Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I need space. I need to think.
My father was a member of his mafia. Stellan knew him personally and apparently knew him really well. They had a relationship, and I had no clue about it. All this time, I must’ve looked like such an idiot.
He played me.
From the start.
And now Gem’s trapped in this nightmare too.
God, what did I just get myself into?
STELLAN
“Took me longer than I like to admit, but I traced that plate back to here.” Frankie takes a drag on a cigarette and gestures at the rental car place. It’s one of those off-brand companies with dirt-cheap vehicles. “What should we do?”
“We’ll talk to the owner.” I head inside, hands shoved into the pockets of my jacket. Frankie follows and pauses only to put out the cigarette before flicking it away.
The lobby is shabby and in terrible shape. The few chairs are dingy, and their cloth seats are universally torn. The guy behind the counter looks bored and seems startled to find two big men suddenly waiting for his attention.
“The manager around?” I ask, glancing toward the back, but I don’t see anyone nearby.
“That’s me tonight.” The guy clears his throat and gestures at his name tag. It says Tim, Store Manager. “What can I do for you folks?”
“We need your help finding my cousin.” I slip a piece of paper across the desk toward him. It’s resting on top of a couple hundred dollar bills. “He rented the car with this license plate number. I was hoping you could tell me what address he gave you or anything else that might be helpful.”
Tim the manager frowns at the hastily scrawled plate number and glances at the money. He doesn’t touch it. “You said you’re looking for your cousin?”
“That’s right. My cousin. His parents are worried. He’s never done anything like this before.”
The look on Tim the manager’s face suggests he thinks I’m full of shit.
“Right, well, I can’t give out any customer information. It’s against store policy.”
“Huh. I see.” I take another hundred and place it down. “He’s a good kid. But he’s a little lost.” Frankie lurks behind me, looking bored, but I know that’s an act. He’s on high alert.
Tim shakes his head. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t.”
“You sure?” My heart picks up. I would’ve been disappointed if he had taken the cash. This will be more fun. “You definitely positive?”
“I’m very sorry, sir.”
“Okay. I understand.” I take my money back before vaulting the counter and kicking Tim the manager right in the face.
My boots crunch into his chest. He grunts in shock as I knock him back. Tim yelps, letting out a piggish squeal as he tries to crawl away from me. I grab his ankle and pull him back, tutting as I do it, and stomp down hard on his knee.
Another scream of pain.
“Frankie, take our friend in the back and make him show you the security cameras. Let’s do a little erasing, shall we?”
“Gladly.” Frankie climbs over the counter, gun in hand, and waves it at Tim. “Come on, big guy, you’ll be okay.”
“Please, don’t hurt me.” Tim’s sobbing, face white with terror.
“Jesus, man, did you piss yourself?”
He moans, a dark stain spreading out across his jeans. “Please, I’m sorry.”
Frankie makes a face. “Fucking pathetic.” He hits Tim and I can’t even blame him, but now it’s almost like beating a puppy. “Come on, you stupid bastard, stop crying and you might survive this.”
Tim gets to his feet, sniffling, and limps after Frankie, gun shoved in his neck.
What a disappointment. I had hoped Tim the manager would’ve put up more of a fight, but, oh, well.
I type the license plate number into the company software manager. It whirs for a second, thinking real hard, before returning the last ten customers who rented the car.
At the very top: Bobby Smith.
The fakest fucking name ever.
But underneath that is a real address on a small street near South. I write it down and call for Frankie. He returns a minute later, whistling like he’s out for a casual stroll.
“Our friend?” I ask.
“Hiding under his desk.”
“Footage?”
“Cameras don’t even work.” He shakes his head. “Pathetic.”
“Come on. We have one more stop.”
The address takes us to a boring row house on a packed residential block. There’s nothing special about it. Black bars over the windows, but those aren’t all that unusual in the city. There’s no decoration on the door and no indication that anyone lives inside, but still, also not that surprising.
Frankie goes around to the alley behind. I give him a twenty count before I head to the front door. I’m not sure what to expect, but I’ve got my gun ready, just in case. I knock and ring the bell before standing with my back to the building so whoever’s inside can’t see my face.