Page 19 of White Rabbit

“I’m a patient man, Benny.” I said, taking a smoke and lighting it, careful to blow my smoke out the window. Jules had provided me with lighters and matches. Some to trade, some to keep. “Only those who have a fragile grip on their power feel the need to flaunt it.”

An awkward stillness had filled the cell, and I realized how much I was used to Beans filling the space with his endless chatter. “Your quietness is disconcerting.”

He snorted, rubbing his face with both hands. “I don’t even know what that means, Creed.”

Exhaling a plume of smoke, I savored the quality of the tobacco. “It means you don’t need to fear me…unless you cross me.”

Beans had leaned up on his arms to glance my way. “Yeah. Okay. So, the snacks in my cubby…”

His question made me laugh, it was very Beans to think with his stomach first.

Something else that made me think he hadn't grown up with a lot. “They’re yours. Do with them what you will.”

I hadn’t touched anything else from my stash yet, waiting for the right moment. And when Officer Foxx had tried to assert his authority, I realized maybe it was time to start setting things in motion.

I know Ava’s eyes are still following me as I approach Ilya and his men. I can feel her stare burning into my skin with a delicious tingle that I’ve come to associate with her.

“Levana Ruka,” the large man grunts in greeting as I approach. His pale hair and blue eyes make me wonder if he’s a relation of the Volkov’s, but his face holds none of their elegance. A long silvery scar runs down the left side of his face, cutting into his mouth.

“Butcher,” I return.

Ilya Gorev hadn’t always been an arms dealer. No, like all good Russian Bratva boys, he’d gotten his hands bloody and worked his way up. His reputation still preceded him, and the nickname had stuck.

“What do you want?” Straight to the point, I like it. Sometimes the posturing with The Cartel or even other members of The Family drove me wild. Just say what you’re fucking thinking and make my life a whole lot easier.

“My boss has sent some gifts,” I explain, taking a seat on the bench beside him. “Beans will deliver them to you after dinner.”

“In exchange for?”

“Your support—should I need it.”

“The Volkov’s owe you no allegiance,” he reminds me, his accent giving his words weight. And it’s true. We traded with the Volkov’s, but no official partnership had been cemented yet beyond our deal for firearms. “But still my boss offers it.”

“Speak to Lev often?” I ask with a curious tilt of my head. Lev Volkov hadn’t been seen in public in almost two-years, and I should know. It was part of my job to monitor the risks to The Family and Jules.

Ilya’s face is a blank mask as he turns to look me in the eye. “That’s none of your business, Creed.”

“Da, da, da.” I reply, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from my chest pocket and offering him one. “I’m likely going to do something a little stupid in a few days, I need you and your men to stand back and not get in my way.”

His icy eyes narrow, looking me over for God knows what, but whatever it is, he doesn’t find it as he nods sharply once.

“Hey, where can I get a decent haircut around here? And possibly some new ink.”

Ilya’s brow lifts, and he lets out a small chuckle. “Deliver your gifts yourself and my men will sort you out.”

A bell sounds, letting us know yard time is over, and with a crook of my finger at Beans, I get to my feet once more and we head inside.

Later that evening, once we’re back in our cell, a little tipsy and with my long hair now gone, replaced with comb-over of sorts and shaved sides, and new ink carved into my chest, I crawl onto my bunk. Getting comfortable, I pull my tablet out from underneath my pillow—not that my cell was at risk of being searched anymore. Fucking Foxx-face was good for something.

I pull up the files Cato, Rosie’s right-hand, had sent me on Ava Bishop, daughter of Judge Joseph Walters, and the late Georgina Walters, née Bishop. So many players were on the board with no idea how the game was run. But they would learn.

When it’s lights out, I check the time and see that Officer Bishop should be arriving home any moment now. Opening an app Cato had to install remotely for me, I login and lay back as I watch Ava let herself into her apartment.

Being the Left Hand came with its perks, one of which was having the means to rent an apartment in the building opposite and set up surveillance. Trusting Cato with the task had been a risk, since their allegiance was primarily to the Queen of Hearts, but over the last couple of months we’d become friends, of sorts. If Jules knew what I was doing, he’d call me on my creepy stalker ways, but he didn’t understand—Ava Bishop was different. She was the key to everything. I could feel it in my bones. And if Rosie knew, well, she might just add her to the KC to be a cunt and win.

For the last three days, someone was stationed in the apartment when Ava was home. They also tailed her if she left the building, and it was only when she was trapped inside these walls with me, they were no longer needed. I received daily reports and updates if anything interesting happened. I protect what is mine. Even if I plan to be the one to break it.

I even had eyes on one Chad Wilson, and while he was a dull as fuck finance bro, a few of his clients had piqued my interest. Cato was looking into that situation a little deeper for me, tugging on that red string until the entire board unraveled.

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