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I stare at the man who has been the sole focus of all the animosity and disruption these last few months and I want to slit his throat. Just thinking about poor little Cami that day makes my blood boil. She must have been terrified. And this man is her own father!
He’s a large, wiry man who hasn’t aged well. He looks like he’s lived a hard life. I can no more see Indigo with this man than I can flying to the moon, but I guess we all do dumb shit when we’re young.
I crack my neck to save from lurching across and choking him, noticing Jett glancing at me in his periphery.
“Thought we’d take the party elsewhere, after the fight,” Forger says, and I immediately get my back up. We’re leaving? “I have some new friends you may like to meet.”
Big Papa runs a hand over his jaw. He told us this may be expected, because there are too many eyes and ears around, but it also means he could be luring us anywhere.
Still, we have the manpower, they just can’t be seen right now.
“Can I take a wild stab at it?” Big Papa jokes. “Mafioso?”
Forger’s eyebrow quirks. “I see good news travels fast.”
“I heard they were back in town.”
“You heard correctly.”
“Pardon my French, but are we sure we want to get involved? The Irish run things in the quarter. If we upset the apple cart, the Irish won’t be happy.” We all know Big Papa doesn’t like change, aside from taking Forger out, but now he’s piggie in the middle.
“Who said anythin’ about the Quarter?” Forger fires back, his eyes land on me briefly.
He commands power, I’ll give him that.
“I just assumed…”
“What the Italians want to do outside of our deal is up to them,” he goes on. “They can fight over turf. Maybe it’ll shake things up a little. The Irish have had it good for too long.” There’s clearly no loyalty anymore.
“Not for me,” Big Papa grumbles. I guess he has to make a bit of a show of his displeasure. “I’m the one in the middle here, takin’ the brunt of it now the Rebels are on the outs with the Irish. If the Irish are on the outs with me, that’s bad for business.”
“Forget the Irish,” Forger says. “The Italians run things differently. They have a setup in Houston they want to expand. I don’t give a fuck about the French Quarter. As far as I’m concerned, that shit’s between the Irish and the Rebels.”
“Then what do you need me for? If we supply to the Italians, then the Irish will be on the outs with us too. Last thing I need is more of a headache.”
He shrugs. “The price we take for bein’ low lives, isn’t it?”
Big Papa scratches his chin. “You’re not concerned that the Irish will turn on you?”
“Not if we blame the Rebels. May as well take the fall for that as well. It’ll tidy things up nicely.”
Maybe because he can’t help himself, or perhaps he’s now got a cross to bear, I’m not sure, but he asks, “What about that kid? Heard there was a fire at the crypt.”
He looks at Big Papa with no expression. Here I was, thinking he might even feel bad about that, but it seems he is a cold-hearted bastard after all.
He shrugs. “Kid got in the way. Wasn’t supposed to go down like that. If you wanna point the finger, point it at the Rebels MC.”
“Go figure,” Big Papa grumbles. “That asshole Cash has had it coming for a long time.”
“Can say that again.” He goes to stand. “Caruso insisted on a more secure location.”
“Understandable. Too many eyes and ears.”
He gives a chin lift. “These fuckers new?”
He nods. “Need the muscle. Apparently, there’s a bounty on my head now that I’m in control.”
Forger grunts. “I know the feelin’.”
