The Fall(6)

I hadn’t called the meeting. So if Jimmy wanted a sit down, he was going to have it with my Glock and Heckler and Koch joining the party. I could just as easily walk out the door, and as much as Sal was a nasty SOB, he’d never shoot a man in the back.

“You make a move that is in any way hostile, you’ll be dead before your body hits the floor,” Sal warned, delivering his threat with a smile.

“Are we done with the theatrics now?” I folded my arms across my chest, his friendly advice not needed. “The old man called me; I’ve got better things to do than watch you jerk each other off.”

“Ah, Michael.” Sal chuckled. “You amuse me. That’s rare my friend, but don’t think for a second it makes you indispensable. We all have expiration dates.”

Considering the guy had been a suspect in his wife’s homicide, I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d pull a trigger on anyone if needed. Unfortunately for Mrs. Sal, she’d been caught f*cking her daughter’s drama coach—the irony. And there was only one thing valued higher than family in these circles—loyalty.

Fortunately for me, I had no family so I didn’t need to make the distinction. Everyone was a traitorous bastard, and I was just biding my time until it was time to have my earthy sleep.

“Jimmy ready?” I gave Sal my second let’s-move-this-along, knowing the old man was probably watching the whole exchange on his intricate security system.

“Yeah, follow me.” Sal turned and led me through the main part of the bar, the place still full of drunk-ass wastes of space even though it was well past midnight.

The old wood-paneled walls hadn’t changed in over fifty years with any upgrades keeping with the old-time feel of the joint. And although there was a stage, no one came to hear a band. Most of the clientele were either unsavory characters who treated it as a one-stop-shop of excess—drugs, drinks and *. Or they were adrenaline-chasing *s who got off on dipping a toe into the scumbag pool.

Moving to the back of the bar, we hit a set of stairs that led to the basement. And unlike its above ground counterpart, had been completely gutted and renovated.

My heavy boots echoed off the reinforced steel stairs that had replaced the original wooden ones, descending until we landed in a room so pristine you could probably do surgery on its floor. Chances were, it probably had seen a stitch job or two.

The two meatheads at the entrance gave Sal a nod as they turned and followed us like obedient Rottweilers, our little adventure apparently needing an entourage.

We continued further down the hall to a set of doors. The overhead LED’s flooded the space with so much light it was hard not to squint, Sal doing the honors and beat his fist against the large metal door.

Unlike my initial welcome, we weren’t greeted at the door. A dull metallic thud signaling the lock had been disengaged was the only sound as Sal pushed open the door and stepped aside so I could enter ahead of him. His eyes tracked every step I took as he and two of his ’roid loving friends joined us in the modern office space.

“Michael.” Jimmy didn’t make any moves to stand, instead tipping his head to the vacant chair in front of his desk. His trademark version of a hello and take a seat.

“You called?” My ass lowered onto the fancy armchair I’d been offered; its patterned cloth fabric looking out of place in the testosterone-filled room.

“Yes, I have a job for you. It’s of a sensitive nature.” Jimmy didn’t bother insulting me with the idle small talk, getting to the point on why I had been summoned.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been offered work from Jimmy. While he was fully decked out with his own heavies, every now and then he needed an outsider to handle sensitive issues. I didn’t ask questions, which he liked, and the payout always made it worth my while. It was a win/win for everyone concerned which is why I guessed he was a return customer.

“My gentle touch is legendary.” I smirked, my tightly balled fists resting on my knees. Just because I was smiling didn’t mean I was relaxed. I never did well with company, preferring to be alone rather than chilling with a crowd. “What’s the job?”

“I need you get a girl, keep her out of sight and alive.” Jimmy eased back into his chair, zero emotion in his voice or on his face.

Well, this was a new. I’d done a lot of jobs in my time, most of which involved breaking a few bones. None had ever involved keeping anyone safe. Not my gig, that’s for damn sure.

“I’m not the babysitting type, Jimmy.” I did my best not to insult the motherf*cker, because he was clearly out of his mind. “You best shop around for someone else.” My boots shifted on the floor as I rose to my feet.

“Sit down.” Jimmy tipped his chin to the chair just as he had when I’d walked in, his voice no louder than it had been. “You haven’t heard the price yet.”

Money for a man like me was a big motivator. In fact, it was the only motivator, and the reason why I did what a lot of others found unsavory. I wasn’t bound by the same rules as everyone else. Morality, family, religion, conscience—all met a dead end when it came to me.

My ass lowered back down, hitting the seat as I waited for a figure worth sticking around for.

“One hundred.” Jimmy smirked, the additional clarification on thousand not needed.

Okay, so now he had my attention. “That’s an interesting amount of zeros.” And given I had no idea how long the gig was going to last, I was still undecided on whether or not I wanted to commit. “How long?”