Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I get that. It took a long time to get where I am. I treated every job like my future depended on it. This one is going to work out.”
“Your hair is blue,” he observed.
“I know. I wasn’t planning on being by the club today.”
“We’ll grab you a hat before we head back.”
“Yeah, good idea. So, what do you know about the Gallagher boys?”
“Dad was Irish mob. But he’s too much of a drunk to be of use to them, so the whole family got ousted. So the kids do petty crime. And, likely, will form their own crew once they get enough money going for them.”
“That about covers it.”
“What I don’t know is why Renzo is allowing them to wild out right under his nose, unchecked.”
“Renzo appreciates their entrepreneurial spirit,” I told him. “I think it reminds him of himself at their age. And maybe he’s aligning himself as an ally to a future superpower in the area. Which would only make our family stronger.”
“Makes sense. This where they’re at?” Bass asked when I stopped outside of a dive bar. Not even one of the fun ones that I would pop into on occasion. It was the kind of place with chronically sticky floors, warm beer, and bathrooms that likely had cameras in the stalls.
“Their apartment building doesn’t have somewhere to stash a dumpster. But since their father is always passed out here, it’s familiar to them.”
I walked around the corner to the small service yard.
“Pretty sure a bar this size doesn’t need two dumpsters,” I told Bass, waving toward where a mini one was sitting next to a more normal-sized one. “Want to bet that one weighs something close to two thousand pounds?”
“How could those kids push something that heavy?”
“Industrial casters made the load lighter for pushing or pulling. Most people could easily push or pull five times their body weight with one of these,” I told him. At his blank look, I shrugged. “I may or may not have moved a bunch of electronics that fell off the back of a truck when I was still making my name as a soldier in the family. Did a bit of research on how to move that much shit without a car.”
“Hey, that’s ours,” a wobbly, pre-pubescent voice called, making me turn to see a tall, skinny Gallagher who had to be about twelve.
“Actually, it’s not,” I said. “Where’s your older brother? We need to have—oh, good,” I said when a copy-and-paste of the little kid, but with a solid five years on him, appeared behind his back.
Cormac Gallagher. Seventeen going on fifty, with his kid brothers to take care of and his father to drag out of bars each night.
“Saff?” he said, brows pinched.
“We need to talk about the dumpster. Actually, about the new nightclub in general.”
If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I’d have missed the flash of desperation cross Cormac’s eyes before he tamped it down.
He’d likely already done some quick math on how much he and his brothers just scored. Even selling at a loss, that was some life-changing money.
I felt a pang in my chest seeing it. I’d been on the streets at his age, my desperation for money, food, shelter, an ever-present churning in my gut. I couldn’t imagine how he was dealing with the hunger and needs of five younger siblings.
“I’m listening,” Cormac said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Go back inside.”
I’d bet that all the brothers had helped push the dumpster across town, each celebrating in their success. But Cormac wanted to save the younger ones from the loss. You had to respect the poor kid.
“Look, the family needs that club to be renovated and opened as quickly as possible. They’re going to be a… client of ours.”
“Alright,” Cormac said, jaw rocking side to side.
He had to be close to his eighteenth birthday. He was probably planning to use the marble money to get his own place where the kids could be free of their father’s influence. Where the fridge and cabinets would be full. And free of roaches.
“I want you to help with that,” I said. I could feel Bastian’s gaze on my profile, but ignored him. He might be working with me on the club project, but I was the one in charge. I could make this decision.
“What kind of help?”
“I’m gonna be putting up a security system. But I’d like it if you and your brothers could keep an eye on the place while it’s being renovated. Let me know if you see anything suspicious. Report it to me—or Bass here—immediately.”
“What’re you paying?”
You had to respect his guts.
Most criminals, once they realized they’d fucked around on the mob, would be begging for leniency, not demanding money.
“It’s a round-the-clock kind of job,” I told him, knowing he had other brothers home to keep an eye on the younger ones while he pulled a night shift. “Two hundred a day.”