Page 17 of Darkness and Duress

“Arms dealers? Really?” Henny’s head appeared between the front seats. “I mean, I'm glad it's not heroin, but really?”

“Yeah. Talk to my dad. I had the same reaction.” I flexed my hands on the steering wheel and instantly regretted the brief candor. These guys didn't need to know about my personal issues. Especially not Henny.

“Lucrative. You're going to want to get this thing tuned up.” Jericho slapped the dash with his fingers. “Literally every arms dealer has a locker, reinforced panels, and a much bigger engine. The tint could use some work.”

I glanced toward the strange man beside me. With his fawn skin and straight black hair, I suspected some Asian heritage. That was literally all I knew about him besides his name, though. Hearing him ramble on about cars piqued my curiosity. Gian loved his mods and aftermarket gear. Maybe that's why they were friends.

“Is that something you can do?” I kept my eyes glued to the road in front of me.

“For a price,” Jericho quipped back.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” I scowled briefly at the man and turned my frown back to the windshield. “Gimme a ballpark.”

“Five Gs base, probably higher.” Spoken with the confidence of a man who knew his shit.

“Sold.”

I caught Henny’s glare from the rearview mirror. “Nice, wonderful. Please, your Highness, continue to do whatever the fuck you want with my car.”

“A car provided to you by my father?”

He grumbled under his breath and slouched in the backseat. It was too easy to be a prick with him. Defensiveness was the only weapon I had left in my arsenal. Even that one seemed flimsy.

Our next stop was a lot closer to home, but no less nerve wracking. The job was only considered complete once the goods were with our distributors. I hated dealing with that roughcrowd of thugs and dealers. They dealt all sorts of shit for my father—drugs, papers, money, protections. Apparently, they would also be dealing in firearms now. I swung the SUV into an underground garage that promised cheap parking in midtown Manhattan but was miraculously always at capacity. The front was an effective one. As I pulled up to the gate guard with a nod, he pointed to the left and pressed a button to open the barricade.

The space was a lot dingier and darker than the garage under my building. Cars of every make and model filled the parking spaces. I had it on good authority that at least half of them weren't even operational. Those that were still functioning served as runners and convoys for deliveries. It was all for show. Smoke and mirrors was the name of the game in the underworld. The echoing rumble of the engine bounced off the low ceiling as we cruised deeper into the parking garage.

I eased around the last corner and stopped the car in front of a motley collection of card tables and plastic lawn chairs filled with people. The place was a fucking wreck. Garbage, empty beer bottles, and crates of God knows what turned the parking spaces into a makeshift holding area for stock with a recreational space in the middle. I laughed at the plethora of scales and baggies that were swept into waiting totes upon our arrival.

These were my father’s people, so my nerves were not nearly as amped as they had been. I was still wary, though. I always was. My anxiety ratcheted up even higher as the group meandered closer as soon as I climbed out of the SUV.

“Marco, I almost thought you chickened out.” The leader of the group, Pacio, reached out to shake my hand. His clammy mitt and sweat-streaked face instantly soured my gut. The hand on my shoulder as he clung to my hand set my nerves on edge.

“You know the deal. We’ll be back in a week for the money. Depending on how it goes, we’ll be bringing another shipment too.” I nodded toward Henny, who lugged the duffel bag fromthe backseat and hoisted it to the nearest table with a grunt. The ominous metallic clatter from within the bag grated like nails on a chalkboard all the way down my spine and back up again.

“Sounds good, baby boss.” Pacio clapped my shoulder again before releasing my hand. “Here’s something I'll give you for free—watch your back out there, kids.”

My head tilted just a bit as I eyed the man’s back. He was too busy rifling through the firearms to notice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a glance over his shoulder, Pacio smirked. “Moretti’s guys are talking shit. Seems our little alliance buddies aren't too excited about all the changes on the horizon. Watch your backs. It's going to be popping out there.”

He laughed, brassy and big and loud, as he waggled a gun from the bag at me. I took an instinctive step back. My instincts also drove me to shove Henny behind my body. Pacio guffawed in delight, the rest of the thugs and goons joining in until the underground garage echoed with their hyena cackling.

“Noted. If that’s all, we’ll be on our way.” I gave Henny another push toward the car. “See you next week.”

“Ciao, baby boss!” The laughter continued, each abrasive sound clawing at my ears and constricting my chest. Even after I was behind the wheel with the doors locked, the grating sound echoed in my head.

I only took a full breath once we were back on the street level. A quick glance at the rearview revealed Henny’s unwavering stare. Jericho, busy on his phone, muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” I prompted, waiting at the mouth of the garage until traffic cleared enough for me to pull out.

“Something came up,” he mumbled, turning in his seat to address Henny. “Are you cool with postponing our plans?”

“Lemme guess, you got the call?”

He nodded in response, a smile playing over his features. “Big pool tonight. I could really use the money.”

“It's cool, man.”

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