Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Ashton said, “Want to meet up so I can take pictures of your dead body and collect two million?”
I was a dead man walking, on the phone with a Mafia head, and he was joking about my death contract. For some reason, that relaxed me. “Only if you promise to give your wife the money.”
He laughed. “I could never tell Molly. She’d be aghast that I might’ve benefited off your neck.”
“How about instead you tell me why there’s a hit put out on me? That’d be helpful.”
He got quiet. “You don’t know?”
I snorted. “About the hit? No. I have no fucking idea who’s behind it. My family? Your family? Trace’s? This came out of left field. Someone with a vendetta against me as a cop? Think if I put out a memo that I retired, they’ll take it down?”
“No, but I can tell you that if I wanted you dead, I’d be doing that torture shit personally. You know me. That’s my thing.”
Indeed it was. It was widely known he enjoyed torture.
I picked up my glass of bourbon and went to the living room. With my back to the wall, I leaned there with a perfect view of the bathroom door and took a drag of the liquor.
I never felt the burn.
I replied, “If you’re trying to trace this call, you can’t. FYI, Mr. Cybersecurity Expert.”
“We already got the location bounced back to us, and you sent a virus into my favorite laptop. I was impressed, Worthing. I didn’t know you were capable of that sort of cyber sophistication.”
Of course he’d try to trace me. He was Mafia.
I scowled. “You really don’t know who put the hit out on me?”
Ashton got serious. I heard a squeak on his end, maybe his chair was pushed back as he stood. “All I know is that it’s someone in your own camp. I don’t know the name. You need to clean house in your family.”
My gut twisted.
Fuck that. Fuck that so much.
Frustration welled up, and I said roughly, “Thanks for the advice. I’ve been a cop most of my life. You got any other tips on how to not be a cop and go up and murder half of my family because they’re all fucking criminals? If so, I’d love to know how to get myself to do that.”
Everything I said was the truth. I gritted my teeth.
Ashton was the head of the Walden family. His best friend Assface was head of the West family, and me? According to a call from one of my uncles, my family, who mostly operated out of Maine because it kept them under the radar, said they took a vote and I was the new head of the Worthing Mafia.
Me. The head of any Mafia.
It was a sick joke, and I already knew the hit came from someone on the inside because the second shooter had been one of our guys. He was usually used as a gunrunner, but he was in the city, and he’d tried to kill me.
I was a lone wolf for this. No police friends. No family.
Then again, if I’d been asked my preference, it would’ve been this way. I might’ve had resources offered to me, but when it would come down to it, I wasn’t a guy who stood in the back and gave orders. I was the one who went to the front line.
I was the weapon.
If I was going to order people dead, I was the type who preferred to do it myself. I’d like to say it was because then I knew it was done right, but that wasn’t the truth. It was the adrenaline of being in the fray, of being the monster hiding in the shadows. There was a sick fascination of feeling your enemy’s blood spilling over your hand. In that moment, when you were the reason someone’s life was draining out of them, that was when I felt the most alive.
Ashton replied, “Though, according to the street cameras and how you reacted to the second shooter, you were already aware of that fact. Who’s the girl?”
I ignored that. “I’d hoped you would have a name for who’s going after me in my family. No one’s reached out?”
“I have a cordial relationship with you. I would not with anyone else in your family.” Ashton’s voice cooled significantly. “If you indeed take over your family’s business, I may entertain the idea of working with you, but it would only be under those circumstances. You misunderstood me. I meant that you needed to go and clean house in the legal way.”
I frowned, considering what he just said. “You want me to arrest my family?” Also, “How very not-Ashton of you. I’d assume you were all for me going in and killing everyone.”
“That would be my way, yes. But since your identity is still wrapped up with being law enforcement, I’d assume you would want to do it a way that would let you sleep at night.”