AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I managed to take two Rolexes, a set of diamond cufflinks, and a gold chain from my father's room while Detective Collings tied his shoe," she went on. "Which, I think, would be worth a good three or four thousand altogether."
"Sounds about right," I agreed.
"Why not put that money to work for us?"
"What? Like in Atlantic City?" I asked with a smirk, never having been the best gambler in the world.
"What did you plan to do for work, Charlie?" she asked, ducking her head so that her ear almost touched her shoulder. "Stock shelves at the grocery store? Pump gas?"
"Whatever it takes," I said with a shrug.
"Why do that when you could... put your particular talents to use."
"To use how?" I asked, the idea of having to find yet another crime boss making my stomach pitch. I'd had nothing but bad luck with that.
"Take that three grand And loan it out. With interest. If someone doesn't make their payments..." she trailed off, letting my 'particular talents' speak for themselves.
"You want me to be a loanshark?" I asked, shaking my head. "Haven't you had enough of crime in your life?"
"I've had enough bad guys in my life. Things that are technically a crime are not necessarily bad if you really think of it. Desperate people need cash. They need people to give it to them."
"Yeah, baby, but if they don't repay it, they get their asses kicked."
"That's a choice they made though, isn't it? There are other ways to make money. Or borrow money. They choose not to go that route. They choose to take those risks. They choose not to pay it back, knowing full-well the repercussions of that. You're not like a normal criminal, Charlie. You're not cold and heartless. It's a business, plain and simple. Your business."
Put that way, I could almost see it, believe it.
I'd never considered working for myself, never having the cash to start up, or the interest in dealing drugs or guns. Besides, this town - if we decided to stay here - had a strong street gang for drugs. And the ever-present Henchmen motor club dealing in black market guns.
The mob was getting into imports.
But as far as I knew, there weren't any loansharks.
It was plausible.
Possible.
"I understand if you want out," she rushed to add, misinterpreting my silence. "If you've had enough of this life. I just wanted us to weigh all the possible options."
"I have no problem with this lifestyle," I said carefully.
"Then I think it's the best bet to work for yourself. Don't you? No one to beat you out or kill you if they are done with you. No one to answer to. And because our living expenses would be minimal, and I could cover them, any interest you get from loans, you can reinvest back into the business, keep building it until we are secure. Until we have a big enough surplus to move to somewhere more permanent."
"You'd be taking care of me," I objected, thinking of her on her feet long hours serving drunks and assholes at the bar and diner.
"We'd be taking care of each other," she corrected, reaching across the table to close her hand around mine, giving it a squeeze. "I don't mind working. I think it's not a good thing right now for me to just be sitting around in a motel room, letting my mind wander."
She hadn't talked about it since she got up, had gone into the bathroom to take a long shower, then told me she would throw together some breakfast from the little basket the room offered.
Not wanting to push her, I'd let it slide, figuring she'd open up when she was ready.
I couldn't claim to have a lot of experience with female emotions, so I didn't even know if this was the right route. Or if I was supposed to tell her to talk about it, to open up, to let me in.
Helen was an odd mix of hard and soft; I had no clue how to navigate her emotions. At least not as they pertained to something as huge as this.
The loss of her mother figure.
The murder of her father.
The framing of her brother.
Blood on the hands was not something new to me, but it was to her.
Was she freaking out?
Was she secure with her actions, given that she didn't have much of a choice in the matter?
I was in the dark.
And this was the first she had even hinted at it, at thinking about it, at worrying about it.
"How you handling all this?" I asked, leaning back in my chair, figuring it gave her physical distance even if I was invading her thoughts and emotions.
"Honestly?" she asked, cradling her paper cup between two hands like she needed the burn. "I don't know. I think I am a bit numb about it right now."
