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I drop the duffle.
And collapse against one of the elevator walls.
I know in my heart that this is a turning point for us and I should stand my ground. I can't be with someone who doesn't trust me. There's no future in that. Not a good one anyway. But I also know that my heart is literally breaking.
Chapter 11
I’ll Pay You Double
HUNTER
Aman I knew from my days as an underling in the organization carefully approaches my Mercedes Benz truck, a gun carried somewhat discreetly on his hip under his leather blazer.
I lower my window slowly down, aviator shades on my face to hide the little sleep I’ve been getting since Megan moved out.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Hunter.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“It really has. Thank you for meeting me here instead of the club.”
“No problem.”
I invite him to sit in the back seat of the truck alongside me so we can chat privately.
“So, how can I help you?”
“I have a situation that could use some of your magical mediation skills. You know how I like to stay low, not make anywaves. I have a small boutique business with a very particular clientele.”
“Sure, I get that.”
Jack has moved up since the early days of us running the streets as well. He runs guns but only specific ones to a very exclusive clientele.
“Over the last two weeks, there’s been a new faction poaching some of my clients. Promising them more at better prices.”
“Capitalism,” I shrug.
“No, they’re not sanctioned by the organization to make these kinds of moves. They’re trying to put me out of business and before I start a war, I want to try and have a sit down. Maybe they don’t understand how things work here.”
“Who are they?”
“The Fabre Family. They’re out of New Orleans.”
Fuck.
“I’m not interested in any sort of mediation situation with those people, Jack. I’m sorry.”
Jack’s disappointment is palpable. I understand that he’s been waiting well over a week for this meeting with me. I don’t make it easy for people I don’t have a relationship with to contact me. If I did, I’d get calls from every Tom, Dick and Harry. This isn’t the outcome he was hoping for.
“I’ll pay you ten percent extra your normal rate.”
“It’s not the money.”
“Fifteen.”
“Jack, you’re not listening.”