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“Do it. I’m dead anyway,” he spits.
“Who is Forger workin’ for?” I repeat.
Jett looks at me dubiously. He thinks this is all useless, but I could always smell a rat better than he could. I can thank prison for that one.
I cut his cheek with my blade, and he cries out like a pussy. I can’t kill him. Harlem and Tag would kick my ass. But since they’re not here, and we’re on a timeframe with this thing, I don’t think they’ll mind too much what I do.
“Fuck, man! I don’t know shit. I’m one of the runners, that’s it.”
I frown. “What’s a runner?”
He pants, hands tied behind his back, sitting on a wooden chair.
Frankly, I’m running out of patience.
I’m pissed I got dragged away from Aspyn last night babysitting this asshole because Tag and Harlem were out of town chasing down a lead.
Jett kicks his chair. “Answer him!”
“I run the drugs,” he says. “I get it ready for the deal and distribute accordingly.”
“So he’s the one who cuts the drugs with cheap shit and passes it off as pure,” Jett scoffs.
I shake my head. “Did you ever see that other scumbag that we caught a couple of weeks ago?” I ask, as he looks from Jett to me. He wouldn’t have, the assholes at the bottom of the swamp.
“No, I don’t know who you mean…” he stammers.
“He was yours. Was being the operative word. He was also a runner. Do you remember, brother, what we did to him?”
Jett smirks. “Right. I almost forgot. The alligators had a feeding frenzy that day. Had a bit of meat on his bones.”
The man's eyes go wide, and we both laugh. Works like a charm every time.
I doubt these idiots know anything. They’re bottom-dwellers in the grand scheme of things.
Forger is being protected, not just by the underworld criminals, but it’s something so much more… I’ve even thought about the Irish... Would the mafia really betray Cash? I doubt it since their leader, Ronan, almost got shot the same night I did. We have an alliance with them and the Mexicans. As long as they stay out of our territory, we’ll look the other way.
And the Irish have at least been helpful. The cartel…maybe not so much, but then again, getting too involved with them could only lead to more trouble. Cash won’t deal in anything illegal, especially now that he has Deanna and their daughter, Caprice.
He’s not risking shit and hasn’t for years. So keeping the cartel and the Irish at arm’s length unless we need them is for the best.
“Alligators?”
“The bayou,” I sigh. “Take it you’re not from around here, bud?”
He shakes his head.
“That may be a good thing,” Jett says, side-eying me. “If he doesn’t see what’s comin’. Snap, snap.”
“No! I swear…” Blood drips down his face.
“If I hear you swear one more time…” I warn.
Jett shoves him back. “Any piece of information, no matter how small, can be useful. I’d start thinkin’ if I were you, my brother isn’t known for his patience.”
He shakes his head, and I shake mine at what a pussy he is.
“Should we leave him for Harlem?”
