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“How old were you?”
His chair creaks as he shifts his weight, placing his feet back on the floor. “Doesn’t matter.”
It does to me.
“Are you firing me?”
He assesses me, flicking the ash from his cigar in a tray. “Nope. But if you pull a stunt like that, I’ll make you wash dishes for a week.”
My shoulders straighten. “I’d quit first.”
He ignores my statement. “All kinds of shit used to go down on this premises. I won’t lie, even I did some stupid shit. But times are changing. Families come in here on occasion, in case you haven’t noticed—my cooking is damn good. If you want to flirt, make extra tips—fine but don’t pull shit like that again unless it's after midnight on a weekend. Ya’ hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He grunts. “Get back out there and take care of my men.”
A few quick taps sound on his door. “Come in,” Roger barks.
The man he called Smith stands in the doorway. He looks right at me, with cold silver eyes. Damn, the man looks like he could be a ruthless killer, snapping my neck with one flick of his wrist. He’s tall too, well over six feet. His hair’s shaved close to his head, and his leather cut can’t hide the bulging muscles underneath.
“Stop eye fucking Smith and get your sweet butt back on the floor. You know how to make drinks, Dev?”
I don’t stop looking at Smith. “Sure do.”
Smith moves aside as I brush past him, the door closes firmly behind me, and all the air in my lungs comes out with a whoosh.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing. Just personnel shit.”
“Uh huh,” Smith replies not believin’ a word.
“Fuck!” I curse, picking up my drink and pouring one for Smith.
“Salúd, brotha. I wasn’t expectin’ you this week.”
Smith sits across from me and takes the drink, “We’ve got trouble.”
“We?”
“Yep. Zach’s brother is outta jail. He wants vengeance.”
“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, a million thoughts running through my head. I always knew this day might come, and started prepping for it the day my best friend Colin Flynn shot the ex-Prez of Creed dead in his kitchen several years back.
“You got a tail on him?”
“We did. He slipped it last week.”
“Where was he?”
“San Diego.”
“Shit. He’s heading north.”
“That’s what we’re thinking. Duke’s not taking any chances with Shanna. He packed her up and took her to the cabin with a few men for protection.”
I snuff out my cigar, “If I had my way I would’ve taken Zach out to the woods for the animals to scavenge. But Duke didn’t. Do you remember how he wanted to do shit by the book?”