Page 4 of King of the Bronx

Chapter Two

Raven

“Raven! I’ve missed you.” Toby came around the bar to engulf me in a hug. I inhaled his scent of cologne and whiskey. He was the closest thing to a brother I’d ever had. We’d stayed in the same foster home for three years, the longest time I’d been in one place. We stayed in touch, like real siblings. He was much taller than me, and we had completely opposite features. While I was short with long red hair and bright blue eyes, Toby stood well over six feet with short blonde hair and green eyes. He was skinny as a kid, but once he became an adult, he hit the gym on a regular basis. He’d filled out admirably, becoming muscular in all the right places. I doubted he had any trouble getting women at bars. Toby went down a much easier road to business ownership than I had. I pulled back from the hug and tousled his short hair. He swatted my arm away.

“Stop trying to embarrass me,” he complained.

I laughed. “That’s part of the fun.”

The bar was mostly empty because it was still early. Only a couple men sat at the end of the counter, and it looked like they’d been there most of the day.

“Let’s get a booth. You want a drink?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I gotta work tonight.”

He smiled and led me over to a red booth in the corner. The one thing I loved about Toby was that he never judged me. He knew the business I ran, and although he had taken a different route in life, he never made comments about me.

“So what’s up?”

I took a deep breath trying to find my nerve. “I need to ask for a loan,” I blurt out as fast as possible. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid. I wanted to get this over with quick.

Toby’s smile fell into a deep frown. “The Irish bothering you again?”

I nodded.

He ran a hand over his face. “Shit. How much?”

I picked at the loose nail polish on my fingernail. “$30,000.”

His eyes widened, and he ran a hand across his jaw. “How the fuck do you owe them $30,000?”

“I don’t know, Toby. I don’t even know how much the balance is on the loan.”

I’d bought the brothel from an old friend for $10,000. I’d saved up for years to be able to buy it. What my friend didn’t mention was that he was deeply in debt with the Irish mob because of it. My “friend” was smart though and skipped town before I could kill him myself.

“What are they going to do if you don’t pay?”

“Sell my girls,” I admitted.

He closed his eyes as if the thought pained him. “I don’t have it. If I did, you know I’d give it to you in a heartbeat so you can get these guys off your back. The bar does okay but not well enough for me to have $30,000 lying around.”

I dropped my head and stared down at the wooden tabletop.

“I understand. It’s a lot to ask…”

Toby leaned closer to me and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I do have a guy who needs some product moved.”

I was shaking my head before he even finished. “I can’t run drugs anymore. It’s too risky.”

“I agree, but it’s also risky staying in debt with the Irish.”

He was right, but I also didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison. Moving drugs was something stupid I used to do to make quick cash. Most of the money I managed to save up to buy the brothel was made from getting drugs from one place to another. Toby sat back in the booth as we both stared at each other, but I was lost in my own thoughts. I had no idea how I was supposed to pull this off. The sound of a glass breaking made me jump. I turned my head to see the bartender bend down to clean it up. When I turned back around to face, Toby he was chewing on the side of his mouth.

“What?” I asked.

“What about cards?”

I scoffed. “I’m beyond rusty. It’s been years since I’ve counted.”

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