Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(87)

“But this will work,” George insisted. “Then everyone will see that you stop at nothing to tie up loose ends. This thing I’m about to do will send an unmistakable message to anyone who might think to double-cross you again.”

“Perhaps,” Spider allowed. “On the other hand, I would have preferred Winterfield be taken out before he was questioned. There’s no telling what that crazy twat is revealing.”

“What can he reveal?” George asked, soothing Spider’s ruffled feathers. “He doesn’t know who you really are.” None of them did. That was the power of Spider. The man had been able to catch so many people in his web without ever wriggling from the shadows.

“True,” Spider agreed.

George blew out a shaky breath. He absolutely hated talking to Spider. Like the arachnid he was named after, the man made George’s skin crawl. And for good reason. Because also like some species of the creature he was named after, Spider could be frightfully deadly.

Taking a quick glance around the little bakery shop located across the street from the massive iron gates of Black Knights Inc., assuring himself the lone customers seated at the high-top table in the far corner had their headphones plugged into their ears while they sipped overpriced coffee and tapped away on their laptops, he got back to the topic at hand: his plan.

“Their cameras only cover the wall and the exterior of the compound,” he said. From his seat in the window of the bakery, he had a clear view of the cameras in question. “They don’t appear to have any sort of surveillance inside. Probably because they assume no one can breach their perimeter. So once I’m beyond the gate, no one will be the wiser.”

“But how will you get beyond the gate?” Spider asked. The noise of a rustling newspaper carried over the line. Spider seemed to have only two settings, borderline disinterest or murderous rage. It was terrifying how quickly the man could switch from one to the other.

“Easy,” George assured him. “I’ll take out the sorry sod in the guardhouse and simply let myself in.”

For a while there was silence on the other end of the line. It made George nervous. It meant Spider was working through the ins and outs, considering scenarios, contemplating consequences, and staying one step ahead of George and…everyone. From what George knew of the man through their various interactions, and from the dealings George had had with others under Spider’s purview, it was obvious Spider was too smart by half. Which, if rumor was to be believed, was how Spider had crawled to the top of the heap of so many criminal enterprises.

Finally Spider murmured, almost to himself, “I’ve had occasion to run into these Black Knights before.”

“Have you?” he asked.

“Mmm,” Spider hummed. “A few years ago they took my…” He stopped himself. “They took something from me,” he finished.

“And they’re still alive?” George blurted.

When Spider chuckled, it sounded like dead leaves rustling in the wind. “Some things are better left alone,” he admitted.

“Well, today they’ll pay for what they stole from you,” he assured Spider. “And Winterfield will pay for his disloyalty. Two birds with one stone.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Spider said. “I can see how this plan of yours could work.” Then he added, his tone taking on a sharp edge, “It had better work, George. For your sake.”

The hard stone of fear that had been perpetually lodged in George’s chest since the day he’d begun working for Spider started grinding against his ribs. Despite the cool fall day, sweat beaded on his upper lip. “I won’t fail.”

“See that you don’t,” Spider said. “I can’t abide another of my employees disappointing me so utterly. I won’t abide another of my employees being caught.”

Spider always referred to the people he kept under his thumb as employees. Although indentured servants was probably more accurate. They all paid for what Spider had over them by living their lives at his beck and call. And dying at his beck and call too.

As if Spider was reading his mind, he continued, “You know what I’m saying, don’t you, George?”

Oh, yes. George knew. And he barely resisted the urge to puke up the sesame seed bagel he’d eaten. A shudder started at his core and worked its way outward, until his arms and legs were shaking. “You’re saying that, no matter what, no matter how this goes, I am not to be captured alive.”

“Precisely.” Spider’s tone went back to being bored. And George didn’t mistake the sound of a newspaper page being turned.

He blinked away the tears burning in his eyes. “But, Bella… I—”

“Don’t worry about her,” Spider said. “I will see that she continues her education with the money you socked away for her.”

“A-and the evidence against me?” George asked hesitantly, referring to the murder weapon, the gun that could prove his guilt once and for all.

“It will be properly disposed of,” Spider assured him. “Your daughter will never know the truth. Your name will remain clear.”

Smashing. Brilliant. Except I’ll be dead. Although, in truth, ever since joining Spider’s ranks he’d very likely been a dead man walking.

“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” George said softly, trying to convince himself more than Spider. He still had so much to live for. He wanted to see Bella pass her A-level exams. Wanted to see which university she got into. Wanted to meet the man she would eventually fall in love with. Wanted to walk her down the aisle…