Page 12 of A Pawn in the Game
I grit my teeth, trying to keep my cool. “Lower price for a low-quality product. You know their shit is cut.”
He makes a poor attempt at smiling. “Like I said. Business is business.”
Any trace of a smile disappears after noticing my expression. I grab him by the lapels of his designer suit and push him into the chipped wall, lifting him to his tiptoes. He was a common street dealer before I got my hands on him. Now he wears expensive suits and plans to cut me loose.
“Want to say that again?”
“It’s not personal. This just isn’t profitable for me,” he blurts out, his eyes wide as saucers. I’m at least four inches taller than him and he looks like a frightened little mouse.
“Of course. Your greed has grown. And now you plan to poison your clients to buy more tacky suits.”
“Nobody sells clean anymore.”
My vision grows tunnel, red appearing in the corners. “We do.”
I drop him to the floor, turning away. As soon as I hear him release a breath, I whip around, punching him straight in his nose.
He presses his hands to his face, a wail tearing from him. “We sell clean shit. And so do you.”
With a snap of my fingers, I signal to my men to get him out of here before I get into my Range Rover. I flex my hand, noticing I cracked the skin of my knuckles.
Fuck, I haven’t been an enforcer for too long. Father always had bigger plans for me. But I can’t deny it feels good to split someone’s face wide open.
The motor of my car rumbles to life, and I dial Leon before heading home. “We got a problem. Russians started poaching.”
“I know,” he responds, and I grip the steering wheel tighter. “Uncle Toma came to me, concerned about the way I’m handling things.”
“How convenient.”
“He says I still haven’t avenged his brother, and our territory is being decimated.”
“I’m working on it. On both of those things,” I growl.
“I know you are. It’s an excuse. For him to show others how weak and unprepared I am to lead the family business.”
“Let me guess. He has an amazing plan to get everything back on track.”
“Of course. He gave us ten days to find him.” By him, he means Landers, Sophie’s father.
“And the Russians?”
“He’ll look into it.”
“Jebemu mater,” I groan, running a hand through my hair.
Our uncle is an idiot with a God complex. I’m not looking forward to cleaning his messes.
“Can you do a few more drop-offs tomorrow?” His voice turns lower. “I think some of the guys are under Toma’s thumb, and I’d rather he not be privy to every detail of our business.”
“Of course,brate.”
“We need to find the girl’s motherfucking dad. STAT. We avenge our father and keep control of our men.”
“I’m aware,” I grit out, grinding my teeth.
I hear him swallow a sip of something.Rakia, if I had to take a guess.
A voice sounds in the distance, and I realize someone must have entered his office. “We have a problem, boss.”
