Page 11 of Redd

I wasn't too worried about the segment. It didn't really look like the folks in here would put two and two together—new guy strolls in, jewelry missing in a state miles from here. . .

The news meant shit to these people. Not one of them even lifted their head to acknowledge the crackling voice through the speaker.

Watching, I took another long swallow of scotch, letting it slowly burn the back of my throat with a satisfied grin on my face. The police didn't know who was responsible, they didn't have a description of the person or any video of them in the act.

A link hadn't been made between those burglaries, or the two in Texas, or the one in South Carolina, or any of the other places I had hit. I was a ghost.

Guess eyes aren't everywhere. . .

Smiling to myself, I clanked the empty glass on the dull surface. “Tammy, I'll take one more.”

“You got it.”

Sliding my palm back and forth over the counter top, I could tell this bar had once been a diamond in the rough. There was gold etching swirling and swooping in intricate designs around the facing. The mirrored backdrop on the wall behind the bar was layered in glass shelves.

A few of the shelves were missing, probably broken during old bar fights in its hay day, creating a tetris tower of bottles covered in dust and stale smoke. The booths were large, but the seats were cracked like dry skin in the winter.

Too bad, this place could be so much more.

The door swung open, sending a burst of cold air through the small bar. Two men in fancy suits walked in shoulder to shoulder, no smiles, no laughs or talk of a business deal they just scored.

One of the men was a little taller, his hair was greased back tight against his scalp, and a small red handkerchief was poking out of his breast pocket. He had a demeanor to his walk that bled control, power, money.

The other guy was wearing a matching suit, his hair was longer, pulled back in a low ponytail. But he didn't hold the same leveled command as his counterpart. He looked more nervous, with his dark brows arched high and a thin frown on his face.

I knew instantly that they weren't from the world of an actual working man. They didn't sit behind a desk, calculating the next spike in the stock market or the upcoming proposal for a high end condo.

It was plain as day in their black beady eyes and grim faces—these men came from something darker, from a world that was run by orders, fists, and guns.

“Hey fellas, I'll be with you in a second. The usual tonight?”

“Just get our drinks, Tam, we don't have time for small talk.” The taller guy snapped, giving her an angry glare.

“Sure, no problem.” Tammy stalked to the cooler against the left side of the bar, leaning in and sifting through beer bottles.

Keeping my head down, I stared at my fingers and swirled the liquor in my glass. I could assume these men were paying members, but I knew better.

Guys like them, men wearing Armani suits and shoes that shined like a star in the night, they didn't just waltz into a shitty dive bar. . . Not unless they gained something from using it.

“So, he really still has it?” the guy closer to me asked, his eyes jittering in the sockets, looking over both shoulders and darting around.

“Of course he has it, what the hell do you think he did? Got rid of it?”

“I don't know, it just doesn't seem like good business to keep it in his house. What if they find. . .” Shifting a hair closer, he whispered. “Jewel? I mean that could be bad, that could be really really bad.”

The other man looked more put together. He didn't look nervous or uncomfortable. Cocking his jaw, he let his eyes steady on the man next him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shaking his head, he scrubbed his chin. “Are you going to bitch out on this—on him?”Pressing his face in, his brows furrowed. “Do you know what will happen if he hears you talking like this?”

“Val, it just doesn't seem smart, that's all I'm saying. And not just for him, for all of us. If someone catches wind about it, and the feds go there, we're all in a world of shit. How long do you think he plans on keeping it before he finally just gets rid of it? It's already been too long if you ask me.”

“No one is asking you, douchebag. And I don't know, man, but he's not stupid. Would you just get rid of fifty grand? I don't think you would. Besides, you can't just get rid of something like that.”

Fifty grand? What the hell are these guys talking about?

“Are you fucking with me?” Leaning back on the stool, the man scratched at his neck. “He cleans his hands all the time, what difference is there with this?”

“Dom, just shut the fuck up. There's a big difference, he was owed this, now it's his. The man can do whatever the fuck he wants to with it. It's not any of our business, so fuck off about it.”

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