One thing I knew for certain; prison life hadn’t altered his need for control.
I’d done the unthinkable, finally searching the internet for any article on his situation. I’d refused to do so before. Why I’d decided to delve into his personal life after he’d left for work was more about curiosity. Yeah, at some point my inquisitive nature could just kill the cat.
What I’d discovered had been heartbreaking. He was telling the truth, although the reporter who’d provided a short series of articles about him had been one-sided.
And not in favor of Viper.
I wanted to kill the senator’s son myself. The bastard had been one of those guys who’d thought his shit didn’t stink. A type I knew well.
But I digressed.
My sudden appearance at a seedy-looking bar had to do with another crime. Maybe I’d switch to making the senator’s life miserable when I was finished here.
Grinning, I finally stepped from the truck, now hating that I hadn’t changed clothes before heading out. I looked rough withbandages on my knees and my palms scuffed up, but I wasn’t here for a date.
By the time I reached the door, two more vehicles were pulling in. When I walked inside, I was struck by the stench, a thick layer of stale cigarette smoke, alcohol, and piss soaked into the old wood. The place reminded me of a neighborhood bar, but it had seen much better days.
With several dartboards and two pool tables that were in desperate need of new felt, I could tell the joint didn’t bring in much money.
The old guy was already behind the bar, stacking glasses on a smoky shelf while peering at me with the same level of curiosity I felt.
As I approached the bar, a group of rowdy men came in, immediately heading to one of the tables near the group of dartboards.
“Hey, Sam. Bring us our usuals, please,” one of the men barked, giving me the look before pulling out a chair.
“You know the magic words, Mark.”
“Purdy please. You can toss in a side of the pretty lady if she’s for sale.”
“She’s not,” I snapped, offering a sweet but don’t-fuck-with-me smile.
Sam chuckled and grabbed a remote for the ancient television over his head. “What can I do for you? I’m not sure I can make them fancy drinks, but I do make a mean dirty martini.”
Another two guys walked in and I could feel the heat of their stares. “Just a little information.” I placed the lighter on the bar. “This from here?”
He looked at me for two seconds before glancing down. I could see a hint of recognition. “We haven’t given those out in years.”
“Looks brand new.”
“Then somebody kept it in a little box. Why?”
“Found it at my place. Just wondered who it belonged to.”
“And where do you live?”
It was my turn to smile. “Somewhere. You don’t have any of your… customers who regularly use them?” All I had to do was turn around and smoke billowed from across the room. I lifted an eyebrow when he stared at the piece again.
When he reached out to touch it, I swear it was like his fingers were going to catch fire by the way he reacted. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead,” I told him.
As he picked it up, the hint of recognition continued. He flicked open the lid, studying it. “Nah. It could be one of a thousand that were made.” With a shrug, Sam pushed it toward me.
He wasn’t telling me the entire truth. That was easy to see. I sighed, then a flash on the television dragged my attention.
The reporter was talking about a fire. There were some aerial views from one of their helicopters.
“Where is that?” I pointed, my stomach already in knots.
