Page 96 of Bad Men

I dumped my mug in the sink, grabbed my phone and followed Nero out the door.

The sketchy building stuffed uncomfortably between a knife sharpening place and some store that only advised the passerby to come in in white chalk across grimy glass looked right at home. It did not surprise me in the slightest that that was where Franco was holed up. The inside smelled exactly how a lowlife would smell, like desperation, sweat, raw feet in the hot summer sun, boiled eggs, and sex. Franco, the massive tube of sweaty flesh and hair sat behind a counter lined with abandoned Xboxes, VCRs, a trumpet, a bunch of phones, and something that may have been cock cages, but I didn’t look too closely at them.

“You again.” Franco shoved off the flimsy stool and stood at his full weight. “If you came to talk me out of—”

“We’re here to pay Luis’s debt,” Nero interrupted. “You can take your hand off the shotgun. You won’t get a round off before I get you between the eyes.”

In the gloom of the store, I hadn’t seen the hand tucked beneath the counter, but I knew Nero wasn’t bluffing; he’d get six shots off before the guy even had a chance to draw.

Gingerly, the man raised both hands, palms open. “Let’s talk then, gentlemen.”

Nero approached the counter and pulled out a checkbook, a new thing even for us, but Eduardo had insisted it was ours to use for business. Luis’s debt wasn’t business, but what Eduardo didn’t know, I supposed. And twenty large was practically pocket change in comparison to what he normally spent in a day.

“Are you kidding?” Franco barked. “What kind of store do you think this is?”

“The kind that won’t turn away money,” Nero replied smoothly, setting the book down and flipping through the crisp pages. “You can accept this, plus a little something for your troubles, or forgive the debt and we can all go on with our lives.” He raised his head and fixed the man with cool, focused eyes. “What will it be?”

Franco’s many jowls warbled. Bloodshot eyes went from the open book and the promise of a little something extra to Nero, no doubt weighing the risks. Cash meant more for him to pocket. A check meant a paper trail, but I doubted he had very many people waltzing into that shithole and just offering up free money. Truth was, he could refuse. He could ask for more. I knew Nero wouldn’t have refused. He would have pulled the cash if it came down to it. But like most, Franco only saw the quick payout dangling in front of his nose.

“Fine!” he snapped at last, spraying spittle across the grimy counter. “But only because I’m in a giving mood.”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

Nero wrote the check, tore it from the booklet and held it out. Franco’s hand lunged for it like a cobra sensing a wounded mouse. His fingers snatched air when Nero tugged back.

“You can have this, but you are going to do something for me, Franco.”

Murky, hazel eyes blinked at the request, or maybe that Nero knew his name. “What?”

Nero planted his forearms on the counter and leaned in, bringing his face close to the other man’s. “You’re going to put word out on the street that Luis Martinez is off limits. No one is to work with him. His name is mud. Understand?”

Franco’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I got that kind of pull?”

Nero straightened. “I know you have connections. So do I. You do this for me and maybe, one day, I might do something for you. But if anyone offers Luis relief, no matter how small, my friend here is going to come back and peel the skin off your bones and make you watch as he feeds it to his dogs.”

His attention jumped from Nero to me; I kept my expression blank despite the urge to glance sideways at my best friend. I must have passed the serial killer vibe because Franco shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he grumbled at last.

He waited a full heartbeat before slapping the check on the counter and sliding it over with two fingertips. Franco scowled at the offering but made no hesitation snatching it up the moment Nero pulled back. He eyeballed the amount. It must have passed his inspection because he glanced up at us and nodded with grudging reluctance.

“You can tell Luis he won’t be hearing from me, or anyone else,” he added when Nero arched a brow.

Nero straightened. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

He pushed away from the counter and pivoted on his heels. I waited to make sure Franco didn’t try anything stupid before starting after Nero out into the crisp, clean air. We made it all the way to the car before I spoke.

“My dogs?”

Nero offered me a smirk as he ducked into the backseat but made no comment. I got in behind the wheel and turned on the engine. I heard Nero pull his seatbelt across his chest and the click as it locked into place at his hip. In the rearview mirror, I studied his pensive expression fixed out the window. The deep, thoughtfulness in his expression had my foot hesitating on the gas.

“You good?”

Nero sighed and turned his chin in my direction. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I said a lot of things yesterday.”

His attention reverted back to the grimy sidewalk and the filthy windows lining the street. “About Eduardo.”

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