Page 90 of Straightened Out

“Problem?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I reach behind me. My hand closes over the piece tucked into the waistband of my pants.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“You wouldn’t be asking me that question if you would’ve just held to your end of the deal and signed the papers,” I volley.

“Come on, man,” Micky cries. “I’m the least of your fucking problems.”

The man is spot on.

He’s a pissant, but he’s about to become an example. It’s the first lesson I’m teaching and not receiving.

I bring the gun around and pull back the safety. Nonchalantly, I lift it and aim it right at him.

One and done.

That’s what Uncle Vic always said.

Sorry big guy, those rules don’t apply here.

Not today.

“Shit,” Micky hisses frantically. “Look, let’s talk—"

My finger closes around the trigger and I stare into his eyes as bullet after bullet whizzes through the air. His eyes go wide with fear and he screams just as the first one pierces his temple. Another punctures the spot right between his eyes. Blood splatters and his head falls forward, slamming against the desk.

It’s quick.

Painless, really.

Fucking perfect.

The door opens and I spin around with my gun still cocked. In rushes Rienzi and the guys but I don’t give any of them a chance to say a word. I point my gun at Rienzi.

Now is as good a time as any.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

One to the heart.

Two the brain.

For a minute, I remain completely still and watch as his body drops to the floor, then I turn to face the men who all stare at me in shock. The corners of my mouth curl as I lower the gun.

“Let that be a lesson to all of you.”

Never underestimate the underdog.

“Now, clean this shit up. There is a chipper in the lot you can use to break up the bodies, then load the dump truck and take the trash to the dump.”

I tuck my gun into the front waistband of my pants and grab my jacket. Pulling my phone out, I walk past the guys and step over Rienzi’s lifeless body. I bring up Joaquin’s contact and hit send. He answers on the third ring.

“It’s time,” I tell him. “Get your ass on a plane.”

Then I walk out of the garden center. Johnny opens the door for me, and I slide into the backseat. Leaning the back of my head against the cool leather I draw in a deep breath.

Some legends are born, others are made.

I’m a work in progress.

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