Page 23 of Havoc

“I told you, I was rather sheltered.”

York sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Okay, well, maybe we need to recruit people for you.”

“I think I can handle it, York.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Eat your breakfast.”

He picked his empty plate up and moved out of the room, leaving me to ponder my thoughts while I tossed around the eggs and bacon on my plate.

Lennon

I stood outside the café, waiting for them to notice me again. My phone dinged and I knew it was Hendrix. Rolling my eyes, I opened the message.

H: Update.

I replied: Decision is pending, couple more days. No word on who it could be, they’re keeping a tight lip on that part. Deacon and Wilder are in the mix.

He didn’t need to know about Presley making a play for the seat. That would just concern him and I didn’t have the time for that.

H: Wilder? He can’t run.

L: He’s putting Dunstan forward.

H: Shit. Dunstan could win it with his connections. Where are they standing on Deacon?”

L: Uncertain. Sonora’s out of town.

H: Keep me updated. Go talk to the wise men, they’ll know more.

My heart beat a little faster, but I knew there was no way he could know what I had planned with the wise men. I pocketed my phone again and headed into the café just as Leo, Tom and Harris were packing up.

“Lennie!” Harris called out. “Come.”

I headed to them with a smile on my face. “You come here every day?”

“We’re old, young man,” Tom said with a grunt. “We come here because it’s easier to keep an eye on everyone and its close enough to home.”

“Say,” Leo said. “Come back with us. Let us catch up.”

“You know what, looks like I got stood up anyway, why the hell not. Tell me there’s a beer in it for me.”

“You know beer isn’t our forte, Lennie. But you can have our aged malt whiskey.”

“Sounds even better.”

I let them lead as I followed close behind, with Tom keeping an eye on me the entire time. He didn’t fully trust me and I knew that. He’d make it difficult for sure.

As we headed back to their apartment, I couldn’t help but marvel at the state of the art building they lived in. The doorman greeted them with a smile as he opened the door for us. Leo hit the P on the elevator and we whooshed upward.

“Penthouse?” I said. “Nice move upward, boys.”

“Well, when you need to keep an eye out on things, you need the view.”

I smiled at Harris, and his ever-growing suspicion that everyone young was at fault and he needed to keep an eye on them. He’d never thought that about me though. The elevator opened on their floor and Leo swiped a card to get in through the door of their apartment. I walked in and was almost blinded by the white marble in the foyer. This apartment was huge.

“Take a seat,” Leo said, ushering me into a living area. “We’ll be back with the whiskey.”

I took a seat, feeling for my knife in my side pocket. A gun was messy, and loud, which I did not need in a building this sophisticated. They had a pit in the middle of their living room, with two steps in between a square lounge that went around the entire pit. I’d seen these types of living areas in a magazine from the 1970s, prison had been brutal but getting to know the old runner, Snooze, had been my only peace of mind. He’d been locked up since the 1970s and had an eye for detail. He was allowed a wall, and a pencil, and he’d sketched out what he’d wanted in his own home if he ever got out. When I had commented on the lounge room, he’d shown me a magazine clipping from an old magazine. It was known as a conversation pit.

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