Page 140 of Unruly

He glanced over his men again.

A few looked away as he met their gazes. Some nodded to themselves.

He smirked.

They all knew.

They didn’t need to be told.

Rick finished his task of collecting the last few stacks of cash from the Capos. Cross’s breakfast had been in front of his face for a good thirty minutes while Rick started with the oldest Capo, and worked his way down to the youngest. It was a process. The men never got their meals until this part of tribute was done.

As soon as Rick sat down, Cross waved a hand over his shoulder. Less than thirty seconds later, three waitresses came from the back of the kitchen. Each held two plates. It took them a couple of trips, but soon enough, the men had food to keep their faces filled.

And their minds distracted.

This was a purposeful move on Cross’s part. A trick he had been playing on the Capos for a long while. They waited on food for so long that by the time they got it, they had little interest in anything else.

It allowed Cross to—mostly—discuss whatever he wanted with Rick and Zeke without someone butting in or listening too hard.

“You’re good?” Cross asked Zeke.

Sitting across from him, Zeke nodded. “Of course, man.”

“Had to ask. And Katya?”

“Relieved. Exhausted.”

“Ready to move on, I would think,” Rick said under his breath.

“That, too,” Zeke agreed.

“Everything is settled and done with, then?” Cross asked, carefully choosing his words about Timur.

Zeke didn’t seem to miss a click. “Somewhere in the ocean, all in little pieces.”

Rick whistled low. “Nice.”

“Trust me, that wasn’t the nice part.”

Cross smiled a little at that. “Let’s keep the details scant, huh?”

Zeke nodded once. “Got it, man.”

“Catherine’s heading out to Los Angeles tonight,” Cross said, “and you both know I have the run coming up.”

“When are you heading out?” Rick asked as he separated bills in to stacks of different denominations.

Cross’s gaze passed over his men to make sure they were still eating and distracted. Thankfully, they were. “Tomorrow morning. If all goes well—we’re not expecting any rain storms for a couple of days—then I will be at the border tomorrow night.”

“Saturday night,” Zeke said.

“Yeah.”

“Usually you hit it on a Sunday.”

“Saturday is good, too. It’ll be around shift change, likely. Point is, I want to get home faster. As does Catherine with whatever she’s handling in L.A., you know?”

“Sure,” Zeke murmured.