Page 3 of The Killer Who Kept Me

“There are three abandoned warehouses in Eastbury. You aren’t using them—no one is. I want them.”

“Warehouses are clichéd, Frazee. Not to mention, suspicious as fuck. It’s why no one uses them. They’re watched.”

“If you don’t want them, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

I thought about it as the server brought our beverages. I didn’t answer right away, savoring my delicious meal. Frazee didn’t push me to answer, either.

“What are you using them for?”

He wiped his mouth and met my gaze. “We don’t ask about each other’s businesses.”

I shrugged. “It’s in my territory, and there are certain things I don’t allow.”

“I know what you allow and don’t in your territory; it’s nothing like that. But sharing my business dealings with you isn’t happening.”

I could just tell him no, but I wanted access to PTA and didn’t feel much like going to war over the use of it.

“I’ll give the buildings to you, but if I find out you’re breaking my territory rules, this won’t end well for you, Frazee.”

“And you’ll have access to PTA whenever you need.”

“Deal.”

We finished our meals and spent the rest of the time being cordial, asking about our families…you know, normal things.

One of the reasons I liked doing business at The Sky was that there were no wiretaps. The restaurant was swept every hour. If Fernando got word they’d tapped the place with a warrant, he’d tell me. It was also too high for anyone to listen in unless they hovered with a helicopter, and that would be very noticeable. I had a deal with Fernando: I wouldn’t take a cut after the loan was paid off and he’d keep The Sky however he wanted, and I’d never interfere with the stipulation that my words were safe here.

“Thanks for dinner.” Frazee shook my hand as we stood from the table.

“My pleasure. I’ll get those papers over to you by the end of the week.”

“Good doing business with you, Mr. Tancredi.”

Now I was Mr. Tancredi again. “Same.”

I waited until Frazee had taken the elevator down before approaching Marco. “Tell Benny to bring the car around.”

Marco texted, and we took the elevator to the bottom. Once we got out, I went the opposite direction from the main entrance. I didn’t like being seen unless there was a reason. So, I used the back exit.

Marco and I stepped outside, and the door had just closed when a shot rang out. A second later, Marco fell to the pavement.

CHAPTER TWO

“Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths.”

~ Etty Hillesum

Em

My instructions were simple:Go meet with Bear and take the package he gives you. Then bring that package to Grandella’s Art Gallery and leave it with a man named Hubert before nine p.m. Make sure to collect an envelope and bring it home.So simple, even I wouldn’t fuck it up.

The night was brisk but it was November, so that tracked. I zipped my coat all the way up to my chin; I’d have to get a thicker one soon. I took a cab downtown to Ralph’s Pub, where Bear was meeting me. I’d hoped to go inside and warm up a bit, but the second I stepped up to the door, the big man was already there.

“Here.” He pushed it at me, and I jolted away, almost falling. “Don’t drop it, idiot.” He rolled his eyes and slammed the door in my face.

I’d been called a lot of things; idiot was tame compared to some. Grandella’s was a few blocks up West Street, so I didn’t bother with a cab. At the gallery I met Hubert, who looked exactly how he sounded. He didn’t call me names; he didn’t say anything, actually. It was a little jarring.

After I had the thick envelope tucked into my jacket, I left the gallery. I tried hailing a cab but with ten minutes of no success, I figured I’d walk a few blocks and try again.

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