Page 43 of Insurgent

“Yeah. I know you can make that happen. The boy’s going to get caught. Too many people talking about it now. Plus, I got word that some cunt from the FBI agency is investigating him.”

I lift a brow as I hit my cigar. This room is dark, nothing but two small lamps on. Outside of this office is the clubhouse. The boys have strippers tonight and the music vibrates the walls. I look to the door when someone taps on it before walking in.

“Hey, I’m fucking busy here,” Moretti yells at the girl who I recognize. She’s one of his. She’s been working for him for years and it shows.

Moretti’s got his hand dipped in everything these days.

He’s greedy.

And greedy people get careless.

“Sorry, boss,” she says before she slips back out. Too much makeup, yet not enough to cover the telltale sign she’s been used up.

Moretti sits back in his chair, looking at me for a beat. “You need to enjoy life more.”

“I enjoy life,” I reply, tasting the cigar on my lips.

“The hell you do. You’re always so uptight. So goddamn serious.”

My eyes shoot over to him. “Should I not be?”

He shrugs. “You’re cold, Bones.”

I look back in front of me. “Yeah, well, life will do that to you.” I reach up and tap my cigar against the glass ashtray.

He laughs. “This life will.” Moretti sits up and links his chubby fingers together. “You were born for this shit. I saw it in you when you were just a boy. The day you came to me and told me you wanted out.” He tilts his head, squinting his eyes. “You broke my heart. After all I did for you and you came at me with that shit. You know I could have ended you right then. You know Nugget has been itching to do that since you grew hair on your balls.”

I keep my expression bleak, but on the inside, bats are swarming, blood is pumping, and my dark soul is simmering. I once had mad respect for this man, but over the years that has faltered.

He sits back, laughing. “Relax, Bones. I’m just yanking your chain here.”

I shrug. “Who says I’m not relaxed?”

He nods. “Well, let’s get to work. Get down to Atlanta and make this happen.”

Mae walks out of the bathroom, grabbing a hair tie from her arm, snapping me from my thoughts. I exhale as I sit up, running a hand over my bare chest, lifting my necklace as I hit the joint. Ashes fall, and I move my leg, letting them hit the floor.

She lifts her dress from the carpet and slides it over her head before grabbing her heels near the bed. “See you downstairs.”

I lift my chin as she exits my apartment above the bar I own. I haven’t been home for some time now. After Moretti and I had that conversation, I headed to Atlanta. I hung around for a bit and learned all about Bryce’s setup and I watched from afar as the FBI watched him.

Moretti handed me a dump truck full of money to go down there and try to purchase Red so he could have a stable place to run his drugs in the South. Plus, the gambling business is a moneymaker, and that club is the best Atlanta has to offer.

It wasn’t long before Bryce did get busted and I took my chance. You see, I know people, my brother being the mayor and all. So, I worked it out, that if Bryce let me buy the club from him, I’d get him out of his sticky situation, which was some serious time.

Don’t get me wrong. I like the guy and I don’t like many people, but I’m about business first.

I knew he had a girl he cared about, so I, of course, brought her up. I was simply trying to make him see what he had to lose if he chose not to sell.

But Bryce is a smart man. He didn’t get to be successful because of luck and he chose right. He’s now a free man, and Moretti owns Red.

I go down and check on things for him and get a cut of the money coming out of there.

It’s a win-win for us all.

I put the joint out, smoke exhaling from my mouth as I stand up, popping my neck before I walk over to my closet. I grab a black button-down shirt and put it on, taking a seat on my bed as I lean down and slip my feet into some rustic brown dress boots.

Sitting up, I run a hand through my hair. I stand, snatching my black blazer from the back of my chair, slipping it through my arms. I spray myself with cologne, stop the record player, and head out.

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