Page 36 of Demise

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sweep

“Fuck!” Tony hits his fist against the table.

“I’ll have a conversation with him,” Paul says.

Tony looks at Paul and sneers. “Yeah, you better, or these two and your brother will rot in prison for the rest of their fucking lives.”

Paul lifts his chin. “I told you I would.” His voice is calm, eerie. He stands. “You gentlemen have a nice day. I’m assuming the boys here will be fine as long as they don’t leave Postings?”

“Yes,” Henry says, cutting Tony off before he can speak again. Tony doesn’t look pleased.

“Stay around here and let’s try to work something out. We know what our main goal is.”

Paul agrees and the pigs exit the office.

Trig lets out a rush of breath. “Goddamn,” he says. “We’re fucked. First degree murder. I knew something wasn’t right with that asshole Simon. He set us up. Fucking rat.”

I recall the help Simon wanted from us. I didn’t even have a bad feeling about it, but now I’m thinking he took advantage of the fact I was worried about Bones.

“We’ve got a problem,” Simon says. “There’s an issue with one of our dealers.”

“Don’t you have men for this?” I say.

“They’re tied up. I could use your help. I’ll throw in some extra.”

I narrow my eyes. “How about you put that extra to the side? Bones and I will grab it the next time we come. And I want the powder that’s been stolen.”

He grins. “You really think you’re going to find him, huh?”

“I know I will. Whoever has him wants something. It’s only a matter of time before they come for it.”

He nods, lighting a smoke. “So, I got your help then?”

“Yeah. You got my help.”

Getting rid of the guys was no issue. We went in with silencers and shot the three guys in the back of the head. One tried to run. We got him as he was climbing out the window.

We put them in body bags and found an old cemetery. We dug up a grave from the 1800s, tossed them in, threw the dirt back over it, and were on our way.

Not having any fucking idea we were being set up. Having no idea this whole time, Simon, the tiger owner, who like Scarface, had a small mound of cocaine on his desk every time we visited, was a narc.

That means the Feds do have something on Bones. They have him for drug trafficking. He’s just not thinking clearly.

Fuck.

“What are you thinking, John?” Paul asks me.

I exhale. “I’m thinking we gotta get Bones to listen.”

Paul nods. “He’s a stubborn bastard, but I think he’ll come around. This is too important.”

I nod in agreement, standing up. “I appreciate you setting this meeting up. I’m going to speak with Bones.”

Trig scoffs. “I’m going to have a drink.”

Chapter Thirty

---