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“What? Who the fuck do you think you are?!”
“I’m East. The man who can shoot from six hundred yards away. Accurately. Every fucking time. You might want to remember that.” East actually took a half-step closer to the man, standing directly over him, looking down into his sweaty face.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m promising you. I’m a professional, and I expect you to act like one as well.”
Sutton sat down on his front steps, his elbows on his knees as he wiped the perspiration from his face. There were a few small cuts on his knuckles, his left hand covered in dry-wall dust as well. Someone would have to patch a few holes in the house, no doubt.
“Calm now?” asked East. Sutton stared at him, nodding. “Good. I think the guy who blew your tunnel stole your collateral. Before you ask, they’re gone. Someone stuck them on a private plane and flew them out of here. I don’t know who yet, but I’m working on it.”
“How do you know so much?” he said, squinting at the other man.
“I know how to do my fucking job. In spite of the fact that none of your damn businesses have security cameras, stupid by the way, the gas station on the corner across from the Essex Apartments does. I was able to bribe the manager to let me have access. I saw one man dressed in black, taking several women and kids out in a van.
“I tracked the van to the airport. It was a rental under the name James Smith. The plane was privately owned, and the flight plan was sealed. They’re gone. But if you haven’t seen the news, so are your paid city officials.”
Sutton’s head flew up, staring at him.
“You have heard,” smirked East, shaking his head back and forth. “Let me ask you something. What the fuck do all these men do for you? Do they do anything other than barbecue and eat your damn food and drink your tequila?”
“Where are they?”
“They left right after the others. I’m not sure where they went yet, but if they’re on the way to the feds in D.C., you’re about to be fucked.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t do that. They know what I’ll do to them if they dare go up against me. I think the pathetic weak pieces of shit are in hiding.”
“Okay. Let’s assume they’re in hiding. They’re gone. Your collateral is gone. Now what? Do we just sit around and wait for Rivera? And why kill him? He might want in on what you’re doing.”
“I prefer to work alone and make my own decisions. Too many cooks and all that shit. Besides, he’s not as advanced as me. He doesn’t see the possibilities in using new forms of technologies.”
“Says the man with no security cameras,” muttered East.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” he said, shaking his head. “You really are a piece of work, East. No man has ever spoken to me the way you do or defied me and lived to tell about it. Maybe you should stay a while.”
“Nope. I told you. I want to finish this job, get my money, and move on.”
“Alright, I can appreciate that,” he said, nodding, eyeing him cautiously. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
East followed Sutton through the house and into the backyard toward the infamous shed. Inside, he nodded to the guard and continued to follow him down the steps, passing the private rooms. One door was open, a young woman in her early twenties sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but a pair of panties.
“Put some clothes on, Benita,” growled Sutton. “We don’t show everything to the customer before they pay.”
“I’m hot,” she whined. “We need more fans down here. Besides, I thought we could play this afternoon.” Sutton just chuckled, shaking his head.
“Bitch wants my dick because she thinks she can convince me to marry her. She’s a good fuck. Knows how to suck a dick better than anyone I’ve ever had, but she’s high fucking maintenance.”
East just stared at the man, then looked at the woman.
“You heard him. Put some fucking clothes on.” She just shrugged, lying back on the bed, her arms above her head.
“I’ll be back later,” laughed Sutton.
East continued to follow the man through another door at the end of the hallway and down a long underground corridor. There were lights hung by strings along the way, an occasional man sitting in a chair giving a nod or wave.
“Where are we going?” asked East, tired of walking with his head hunched into his shoulders, stooped over.
“Hang tight.”
