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“An interest in you?” Stanley asked, casually. “What sort of interest?”

The young man, though, didn’t seem to sense danger and he went on talking, apparently unable to resist the urge to brag. The idiot even smiled arrogantly.

“To tell you the truth, she begged for me to fuck her, so I did,” Simon said, smugly. “And, well, they found out.”

The stupidity was truly stunning. Roberts almost covered his face with his hands.

Stanley nodded slowly. Then he breathed in through his nose deeply and then held the wad of cash out to Simon.

“Thanks for your help.”

Slowly, Simon reached out to take the money as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck. The greed in his eyes sparkled as his fingers closed around the bills. He was still too busy staring at them to notice that when Stanley lifted his hand and put it inside his jacket, he was reaching for his revolver, not his cigarettes. The young man had enough time to widen his eyes in surprise before Stanley put the barrel of his gun against his forehead and fired.

The young man dropped like a sack of potatoes and Jerry shouted, slapping his hands over his ears.

“Jesus, Stanley,” Roberts said, resisting the urge to do the same. The unpleasantness of the ringing in his ears was eclipsed only by the horror of the dead young man on the floor, bills scattered around him like funeral flowers.

“Shut up, Jerry,” Stanley said in a sharp voice. Jerry obeyed at once, though he stood there shaking like a baby deer, staring at the dead young man on the floor, covered in a fine mist of blood. Stanley had shot the young man with his back to the open doorway, so most of the brain matter and blood had been propelled onto the upper part of the doorframe and out into the hall. A sticky, dark pool of blood was leaking out onto the white marble underneath his head.

“Go find someone to clean up this fucking mess, Jerry,” Stanley said. “And pick up that money, it’s yours.”

Not looking remotely like he was interested in having it, Jerry bent quickly and gathered up the bills from around the dead body. He stuffed them in his pocket and stumbled out of the room without looking back.

Stanley turned to Roberts, eyes dark with rage. “We’re going in tonight.” He looked over at Andrews. “Everything they own is going to burn.”

Chapter sixteen

Lindsay

“I think we have a problem.” Lindsay nearly tripped over his cane in his haste to get the front door of the Crystal shut behind him.

Sal stood behind the bar in his maroon jacket, polishing glassware. Sitting at the bar, Ryan and Hiloha were playing cards, and Joey was watching nearby, smoking a cigarette and likely egging them on. Alex stood behind the bar with Sal.

All of them looked at him with varying degrees of amusement and trepidation.

“What kind of problem?” Ryan asked first.

“I think we’ve been compromised.” The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“What do you mean compromised?” Alex said impatiently.

“Word on the street is that Simon was seen with Jerry Hannah this morning and no one has seen him since,” Lindsay said. “Jerry works for–”

“Walter Stanley.” Hiloha finished, dropping his cards on the bar top with disgust.

“He’s been offering a reward for information about her,” Joey said. They all exchanged a look.

“You don’t think he’d–” Lindsay said.

But he didn’t miss the way Alex was glaring at Ryan. “I wonder why it would occur to him to do such a thing,” Alex said, voice smooth in spite of the anger on his face.

Ryan deliberately avoided looking at him. A long-suffering look flickered over his face, but was gone in an instant. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he reached into his pocket and drew out of his pack of Lucky Strikes. All eyes were on him, though no one said anything.

Finally, face twisting with annoyance, Ryan looked around at them. “Okay, Christ. I’m sorry for beating the piglet’s ass.”

“Are you, though?” Alex asked, rolling his sleeves back down as he talked, eyes sharp.

Ryan didn’t answer, just folded his arms and gave Alex a look that could have easily cut a diamond.

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