Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Dad holds my gaze. I don’t look away. I’ve finally reached my limit, and now I’m ready to get rid of my father and move on with my life. For so long I kept waiting for him to fix himself, to become the man I wanted him to be, but I’m finally realizing that nothing ever changes and nobody ever gets better. My father will always be this way, always be a problem, at least until he finally crosses a line and gets himself or the people around him killed.
Which means I have to be finished. I won’t let this wound fester, not forever.
“How much cash?” he asks.
I push open the door. “Just go now. Key’s in the ignition.”
He moves over to the driver’s side as I stand in the street. “You really got me good there, son.” Dad grins at me out the window. “You know, maybe I could go back to Spain for a while.”
“Forever.”
“Sure, right. You wouldn’t really kill me, would you?” I turn and stare at him. He clears his throat and starts the car. “Well, uh, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Don’t call. Don’t contact Mom. I’ll find you, and I’ll send the divorce papers.”
“Sure, kid, sure. Sounds good. And hey, good luck in there.” My father pulls forward and I watch him drive off. The brake lights flash and he makes a right, and I wonder how long it’ll be before I have to make an example of him. I hope forever. But knowing my dad, it’ll be sooner rather than later.
I stalk across the street and approach Zorbo’s. The two goons out front give me a wary look but say nothing as I push open the door and head inside. The lighting’s bright and everything’s painted in blue and white. Tables line the right side, small tables packed tightly together, and the floor’s done in black and white tiles. The men and women behind the counter ignore me as I walk past them, breathing in the smell of lunch meats and lamb skewers and olives and hummus and a dozen delicious-looking breads and sausages and more.
The man sitting in the table at the very back waves me over. I slow and approach, heart racing. He’s big, broad, muscular, with dark eyes and dark hair, and he grins jovially at me. “Warren?” he asks. “Or do you really go by War?”
“War,” I say. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Kazan.”
“Call me Evander.” He stands and shakes my hand. I catch a glimpse of a gun in a holster at his hip. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it. Evander’s dressed in all black, a nice shirt, nice slacks, with a gold chain around his neck and a watch worth more than people make in a year on his wrist. He gestures and I sit down and briefly wonder where his bodyguards are, but based on the size and apparent strength of this man, I doubt he really needs any.
“Thanks for taking this meeting,” I say and try to push my nerves away. I’ve dealt with men like Evander before, criminals and thieves and killers, though Kazan’s Greek mob is one of the more powerful organized crime families in the country. I’m aware that I’m swimming in the deep end now, and there are shadows of monsters lurking beneath me.
“I’ve heard your name before, War,” he says and waves at a guy behind the counter, who brings over a small, dark coffee for me. I take a sip out of respect, then another when I realize it’s really good. “I hear you perform services. You take hard, ugly jobs, and you do them well. You do them discreetly. When I realized who your father is, and heard you wanted to talk, well, I’ll admit that I was curious.”
I nod slowly. “My father owes you money.”
“A lot of money, yes, he does.”
“I’m here to ask for a favor.”
Evander’s eyes flash and he studies me. “I don’t know you. I know of you, I have heard of your reputation, and that got you in the door. But that’s not enough to earn a favor.”
“I want to take on my father’s debt.”
That gets his attention. Evander’s eyebrows raise and he folds his hands over his stomach for a long stretch. I sip the coffee, genuinely enjoying it, and trying not to let the big Greek mob boss see my trembling hands. I’m not afraid of Evander, and I don’t fear death, but I know I’m on the edge of something right now and if I fuck it up then all my plans are worth nothing.
“Tell me why you would do that. And don’t say out of a son’s love for his papa, because while that is admirable, it’s also stupid and I wouldn’t believe you.”
I nod and adjust the coffee cup before speaking. “My father is going to get me killed one day. He’s going to get my mother killed too. He has been nothing but a problem since I was a teenager, and I’m tired of him. I’m so fucking sick of him.”