Page 18 of Wicked Lies

“More like another way to keep us in our place.” Samson’s voice vibrated with anger. “I hope you told him we don’t do that kinda work anymore.”

“I mentioned it, but of course, he didn’t wanna hear it.” Nick knocked a cig out of the pack on his desk and lit up. “I also mentioned how if it wasn’t for us, the Oasis would still be a shithole, but that went unanswered too.”

“He’s got more than enough people to handle this guy Valentin.” Samson stormed over to the bar in the corner of the office. He placed his hand on the tequila bottle, then jerked it away. Samson put the hard drugs behind him months ago, and although he still indulged in liquor, even he knew nothing good came from hitting booze in the early afternoon.

“According to him, we’re still a couple of dumb thugs from Bensonhurst.” Nick blew out a long stream of smoke. “Then he started on all this loyalty shit and how he hopes he still has our respect.”

“Fuck him and his respect,” Samson ground out. “He still treats us like we’re running numbers over on Eighty-Sixth Street.”

“Why don’t we consider this our last job for Frank?”

Samson’s head jerked up. “You talked to the lawyers today?”

“The owners accepted our offer. Contracts signed, money exchanged. Looks like the midtown space is ours. We still got a long way to go, but yeah, soon we should be free.”

Saying the words out loud gave Nick a jolt of anxiety, like the gods who screwed things up all his life might be listening and sending their big dreams to hell. He hated that his mother’s old-school superstitions crept into his brain at the oddest times, especially when Samson’s and his accomplishments had more to do with hard fuckin’ work than luck. They’d definitely paid their dues, and now it was time to break out and do shit their way.

“Already called the contractors about the renovations we discussed.” Nick sighed. “I’m thinking we’ll have the place ready to open in three to four months.”

Their dream of having a club in midtown and breaking away from Frank finally materialized. They had the money, the following, and the space, but they also had Frank breathing down their neck and dogging their every move.

Samson nabbed one of Nick’s cigs and lit up. “I can’t help wondering sometimes if he knows. Fuckin’ guy knows when we take a shit, but I’m sure he would’ve said something or tried to fuck things up.”

Samson was right, Frank’s level of intel freaked Nick out, and sometimes he wondered if the cynical bastard was waiting for just the right moment to lower the axe.

“He knows I wanna branch out.” Nick kept his own paranoia to himself. “But he blows it off because it’s not what he wants to hear.”

“If he knows, I’d rather have him come out and fight us over it than all this dancing around bullshit.” Samson settled on the couch.

“Probably what the meeting with Valentin is about. His way of keeping us in our place, telling us we’re nothing but his lackeys.”

Samson nodded toward the ceiling. “You see the brunette from last night yet?”

“Nah, I just came in the office and called you. She said she was leaving first thing, so she might be gone by now.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Samson smirked around the smoke.

“Thought you were the one who said we shouldn’t trust her?”

“Like that would stop you? You’ve screwed plenty of chicks you didn’t trust.”

Nick huffed out a laugh. “Truth.” Nick shrugged his shoulder. “I just didn’t see her with a lowlife loser like Jimmy.” His gut told him something didn’t add up. And his gut was seldom wrong. “Jimmy wouldn’t let his meal ticket go that easy. Plus, it looked like she ran out in the middle of the night with just the clothes on her back.

Nick’s cell phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket, checked the caller ID, and showed the screen to Samson.

They exchanged a look before he put the phone to his ear.

“Yeah.”

“Is the meet with Valentin all set for tonight?” Frank didn’t waste words.

“Working on it,” Nick answered.

“Make sure everything goes our way.”

“Don’t I always?” he said into a dead phone.

Nick’s ears hummed, and his heart rate shot up. Amazing what a ten-second conversation with Frank could do.

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