Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“You should go ahead. I’ll join you shortly.”
Just as I say that, a customer I recognize walks out of the shop. Simon Kemper is the owner of the casino affiliated with our family, the one in which Dalton lost all the money he never had in the first place. This is as good of an opportunity as any to ask some questions about that night, but I can’t do that until Dalton’s gone, and he’s standing there, eyeing Simon like a tiger assessing potential prey.
Despite the earlier sulking, he leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the lips, which has me stiffening, because we’re surrounded by people. It’s a good thing this is New York City, and the strangers walking past us wouldn’t even care if I wore full plate armor. “You good?”
I am in fact not ‘good’, but I’ll live. “Tell everyone I just need a smoke,” I say and offer Dalton my best smile. I don’t believe he buys it, because the one he offers in return is equally fake. I suppose I just have to bear with the tension between us for a while longer.
“Simon.” I nod, acknowledging my associate as Dalton disappears inside the shop.
I shouldn’t be surprised to see him here, as the guy is always dressed so sharply it figures he gets his suits made to measure. He’s a few years older than me, a smart businessman, and a loyal associate. Pretty handsome even. Not that it matters.
“Corvus…” he says, staring at the door where Dalton disappeared. “What’s happened there? Isn’t that the guy who was supposed to…”
“There was a change of plans,” I tell him, summoning a little smirk, because I like having the power of deciding whether someone lives or dies. “I see he was memorable to you too?” I ask and light one of my cigarettes, and the first inhale of tobacco and clove instantly puts me at ease.
He lights one of his own, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think I recall his name, but he fucked up big time. I was sure he was a done deal.”
“How come he lost so much money?” I ask, watching two men argue on the other side of the street. I suppose that’s what this cold morning does to everyone. “He only had the credit because you authorised it.”
“He played big, lied through his teeth,” he says a little too quickly for my liking. But he’s probably confused after seeing us kiss. “To be honest? I’m surprised to see you with that guy. He’s a notorious liar, and…” Kemper stands a bit closer, exhaling smoke, “just between us? Any time I saw him at the casino, and that was often, he’d be there with a new guy. I’d keep him on a short leash if I were you.”
Heat rushes to my head, and the cigarette breaks between my fingers. I utter a curse and light a fresh one. “That… why did you watch him so closely? He’s just one of many gamblers, surely,” I say to divert Kemper’s attention from my embarrassing reaction.
“Sure, but not many of them are that big, and like to cause trouble when drunk.” He raises his palms. “I’m sorry if I’m misreading the situation, but you’re a solid guy, and I’d rather give you all I know. You can do with that what you will.”
The sour taste of disappointment crooks my lips, so I take a deep inhale of smoke and let it sit in my chest, along with the darkness Kemper has just cast on the new life I’m preparing for.
“That wasn’t what his file said. Did he really? Cause trouble, I mean.”
Kemper stalls for a second, his dark eyes settling on me like a warm hand on the shoulder. As if he’s feeling sorry for me, and fuck, do I resent that. “His file would probably not have such minute details, since what mattered to your family was his debt. It’s not like the broken hearts he left in his wake, or the fights would have made a difference.”
The moments of vulnerability I’ve shared with Dalton are suddenly tainted with the ever-growing danger of being duped. I try not to choke on it all as I think back to the times where I’ve told him things I probably shouldn’t have. Have I misjudged Dalton? From the start, he seemed rather naive, but what if it’s only a mask I chose to accept because of how good he makes me feel?
“Broken hearts, you say?”
Kemper chuckles, but when he chokes on some smoke I can’t help a hint of satisfaction. It might not be his fault that he’s the bearer of bad news, but I resent him all the same. I know from Dalton’s Grindr that he was popular, but to have the reminder thrown in my face with the suggestion he might cheat if not kept in line? Every man passing us in the street now feels like a threat.