Page 59 of Naughty Santa Daddy

A danger that includes me.

Parking and turning off the engine, I exit the blacked-out SUV, grabbing my newspaper and putting it under my arm. Same shit, different day.

I don’t entirely consider the man who steps out from the building one door over and nods at me. After searching around once more and seeing nothing out of place, I move quickly and enter the building.

The lanky man practically trembles as he greets me. “Mr. Costa, sir. I have the information you requested.”

“It’s all there. Nothing is missing, correct?” I warn, and his hand shakes the envelope along with it.

“Yes, sir. Everything.”

I hold out my hand, and he gives it to me, my gaze never leaving his. He, Adam, owed me for his transgressions, and I kept him on a tight leash. Adam’s hacking skills are impeccable, and I use those skills as much as possible.

“Good man. Talk soon.” I turn to leave.

“Sir…” he stutters. “Are my debts clear now?”

“They’re fuckin’ done when I say they’re done. Got me?”

His head nods as his entire body trembles. “Yes, sir.”

Saying nothing, I tuck the envelope under my arm with the newspaper and make my way to Clyde’s.

Entering the building, the chime above the door goes off, and I instantly hear the chatter throughout the place. Today they have added the spray snow to the windows. We are in Texas; this is the only snow we can plan on having. The likelihood of the real deal is slim, and I hope no one in here is hoping for a white Christmas.

Several tables are full for a change as Hadley runs around the joint, smiling at each and every person. My usual spot in the back is open, and I slide into what I consider my chair. Back to the wall, eyes to the front door, watching even when no one thinks I am—ever diligent to all the details. It’s necessary, the difference between life and death.

Scanning the surroundings, I open the paper and begin to stare at the letters.

“Black coffee for you,” Hadley states, setting a cup on a saucer and pouring the black java inside.

I say nothing, giving her my typical nod.

“You want some sweet rolls to go with that today? Mrs. Janosky shared her traditional Polish recipe. They are absolutely the best!” she asks exuberantly, a bit of hope coming through her tone.

It seems like a challenge to her: getting me to eat something, but it isn’t happening. I almost want to laugh. Challenge accepted.

Shaking my head, she gets the cue, walking off to the next table. The view from behind is just as good as the front. I reach for the cup and take a sip. Same crap, different day. Fuck, this shit is like tar going down and a lead weight once it hits.

An hour and a half later, I learn nothing new, and it is time for me to leave. I’m sure my presence is already a thing of curiosity to her and the others. Staying for her entire shift will make it known she’s on my radar instead of me casually coming in. When I started this a few months ago, I hit the diner up once every few days, then gradually built up to my morning routine.

The bell above the door rings, and my eyes lift. While there are more patrons today than usual, it’s imperative I know who’s around her and their intentions. Until I can make heads or tails of the bullshit that has gone down, I can’t make anyassumptions, and looking into the envelope here is not an option.

Every person she encounters may give me the answers I seek. Immediately, I’m on alert. The man who enters doesn’t fit the mold of those who frequent Clyde’s. Uncertain, Texas is a small town, and he isn’t local. He is suspicious and not because he’s a stranger. There’s something else. He has a large backpack on, and his clothes are tattered, seeing better days. More than likely, they haven’t been washed in quite some time.

With well-worn boots, it appears as if he’s been walking some distance. In my time here, there aren’t many outsiders, and this one stands out.

A man doesn’t make it far in my world taking things at face value. Just because it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it doesn’t always mean it’s a duck. He may not be a threat. Maybe he’s a nomad of sorts, passing through. In the seventies, it was common practice to hitchhike across the country, blindingly trusting the stranger. Now, not so much.

Fuck that shit. I don’t trust anyone except to a point. Emilio, my little brother and right hand, doesn’t even know the full extent of my concerns. Not because he’s the one who crossed me, but because I don’t want anyone realizing I’m onto this shit. Emilio is loyal and will want to do his part to protect me and this organization. Anything that seems out of the ordinary will tip off the people who work for me and even possibly my enemies.

Weakness ends in death, and I will be the last motherfucker standing. I’ve been careful to build this routine, even bringing my son on the weekends for breakfast. Thank fuck the pancakes are good. To everyone, I have simply found a place to start each day before being the ruthless bastard they have to deal with. To me, I’m hunting and watching for the right time to kill.

Who that will be? Well, with each passing moment, I feel like I’m getting closer to knowing who crossed me. Once I can,without a doubt, confirm it, I’ll be personally ending their entire bloodline.

Hadley

Happy, yet tired as hell, the bell rings above the door. I swear that sound haunts me in my dreams from time to time, and considering that today is busier than normal, the noise never seems to stop.

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