Page 62 of Effortless

“Don’t you have a partner for these runs?”

Cross always used a partner, or he should be using one. It was one of the first things the two had learned when Theo taught them about the business of gunrunning. A partner could make all the difference in a good, clean run, or a failed one. A partner could save your ass in more ways than one, honestly.

“Haven’t used a partner in a year or more,” Cross said, shrugging.

“Kind of playing with fire, isn’t it?”

“I don’t have patience for people’s shit, man.”

“Or they don’t have patience for yours.”

“Same difference,” Cross grumbled. “Is the fact you’re busy the reason you haven’t headed back to New York to see my sister, or what?”

Tom smirked. “That’s real smooth of you, man.”

“Wasn’t going for smooth.”

Yeah, Cross never did.

Blunt to a painful point.

Never failed.

“Cam’s not asked me to come back,” Tom admitted. “I mean, we talk and whatever, but that’s not come up yet.”

“You need her permission or something? It isn’t obvious she likes you, or what?”

“It’s obvious. I’m not blind or a fool.”

“So, it is a permission thing.”

“Something like that.”

More like, he needed to know Camilla actually wanted him there. Tom didn’t need to be wasting his time, or hers. When she let him know something worth knowing, then he would make an effort.

Cross’s gaze darted to the clock on the wall. “You busy right now? We could grab some food.”

Today was supposed to be payday for Tom … in a way. Whatever money the crew had made over the last week needed to be on his desk before night fell over the city. It was his rule, and he didn’t allow his guys to bend it, no matter what. He had learned over the last few months that if he gave any of those fuckers an inch, they would not hesitate to take another mile.

Even so, Tom didn’t want to refuse Cross’s offer.

Cross stood still, waiting for an answer.

“Well?” his friend asked.

“Do you mind ordering it for here?”

Two birds, one stone.

Cross passed a look at the flat screen television. “There anything good to watch on that?”

“Any channel you want.”

“Find me a game to watch. I’ll order pizza.”

Tom headed for the couch that faced the television. He dropped down on one end, and Cross took a seat on the other. Both used the coffee table as a footrest while Tom flipped through satellite channels. Cross’s voice carried over the noise of the television as he ordered from his favorite pizza place in Melrose.

“That’s going to be cold by the time it gets to here,” Tom told him.