Page 13 of Kingmakers, Year Two

Drink the glass to the bottom

And eat up the lime . . .

By the timehe reaches the chorus, the whole rooftop is shouting the lyrics along with him. Iggy will know that the factory is packed, a mass of people breaking every possible fire code, but it won’t matter by now, he’s in the swing of it.

I told my boy Kelly to video the whole thing. I’ll send that to Victor Kane tonight, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t sign the contract on the spot. Iggy’s going to L.A., where he’ll be free from his bloodsucking relatives.

Right as I’m reveling in triumph, my phone buzzes again.

I pull it out, seeing Sabrina’s number.

My cousin wouldn’t call just to beg to be let back into the party.

I lift the phone to my ear, already sensing what I’m about to hear.

“Your bouncer needs a lesson in manners,” Poe says, in his three-packs-a-day rasp.

“He never passed the etiquette test in the employee training manual.”

“Not you though, huh?” Poe sneers. “You’re all jokes.”

“I’d call that a quip at best.”

“Let’s see how funny it is when I strangle your cousin and dump her body in the alley.”

I let out a slow breath of air. “Not a good idea. You know who her father is?”

“I don’t give afuckwho you little shits are related to,” Poe hisses. “Get down here and leave your fuckin’ bouncers in the warehouse.”

“It’s a factory,” I correct him. “But alright. I’m coming.”

I’m annoyed that I have to leave in the middle of Iggy’s performance. Even more annoyed that they dragged Sabrina into this. She probably hopped out of that cab the second it went round the corner. She’s always been a magnet for trouble.

As I pass Beckett and Anders guarding the door, Anders says, “Something wrong, boss?”

“A small inconvenience.”

I could give Anders shit for not calling me when Poe showed up like I told him to do, but this was coming one way or another.

“Wait twelve minutes,” I tell Anders. “Then come out to the alley.”

He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. I can tell he’d rather follow me right now, but he’ll do what I ask.

“Alright, boss.”

“Twelve minutes.” I tap the Breitling on my wrist. “Use the side door.”

Anders takes a quick look at his own watch to confirm the time and jerks his head in the affirmative.

I pass the long line of people still waiting to come inside, all gazing enviously up toward the roof where Iggy’s ass-kicking performance is in full swing.

Then I turn the corner to the narrow alleyway where Poe waits with his three goons.

The alley is actually quite pretty, the factory wall carpeted with a thick mat of hanging ivy and the opposite side bordered by an ornate wrought-iron fence. The narrow space funnels the sound so that Iggy’s concert sounds much further away than it actually is, and I can hear my footsteps echoing on the concrete.

Poe has one of his idiot friends stationed at the opening of the alley, a rat-faced motherfucker in an oversized leather jacket. He smirks at me as I pass. Poe and his other two goons are holding Sabrina down at the end of the alley in front of a padlocked gate.

The biggest guy has Sabrina’s arms pinned behind her back, a position that pulls her tiny dress up even further. His friend—a stocky dude with teardrops tattooed on both cheeks—is standing slightly behind her so he can enjoy the view. If he wasn’t so busy staring at her ass, he might notice the glint of metal on her upper thigh.

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