Page 64 of Effortless

“That’s the story I was told, Skip.”

Tom yanked a drawer open on the desk, and reached for the weapon inside. He placed the gun carefully on the top of the desk, and stared hard at the man across the room. Dale kept glancing at the door like he was going to bolt. Tom had no intention of letting the fucker get that far—thieves had a habit of spreading, after all.

“Those bookies know to make up what they don’t have because we allow them to keep the other part of the cut when it does come in. All the Capos have a good working relationship with their bookies because we have to. A little bit of trust goes a hell of a long way in this business. Try again, Dale.”

Cross pushed up from the couch, and grabbed a couple of napkins from the desk. Still, he stayed a couple of feet back from the two men conversing, and didn’t try to join in. Tom appreciated it.

Dale, however, couldn’t seem to stand fucking still. His gaze darted in all directions like a wild cat caught in a corner. He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, and edged closer to the doorway.

Tom palmed the butt of the gun. “Adriano thought someone might be skimming off the top of his money a while back. He thought some of the payments coming in were a little short, and that’s why he started rotating pickups between different guys. Some of these payments are bottom line, and don’t change a damn dime. Ones like these, Dale, when I already knew ahead of time from the bookies because they call in to let me know what to expect. I bet you didn’t know that, huh?”

Dale swallowed hard. “I—”

“Is it because I’m young that you all treat me like a fucking idiot? Or is it because I was born with more zeroes in my bank account than you’ll ever have?”

Cross snorted under his breath at that one.

Dale inched closer to the door again.

Fuck this shit.

Tom was done talking.

Talking did nothing.

Not in this case.

“A thief is a thief is a thief,” Tom said. “And do you know what the only good thief is, Dale?”

The man didn’t answer.

Cross did. “A dead one.”

Exactly.

Fast as a blink, he lifted the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

It was only after Dale’s blown out skull hit the floor that Tom realized a couple of other guys on the crew were waiting outside the office.

Tom figured this was what his father would call a teachable lesson for all. It was good for these fools to see that he wasn’t playing around anymore, and he wasn’t going to take any of their shit after today.

“Come on in,” Tom told them with a cold smile, “and don’t mind the mess, guys.”

Tom laughed as one of the guys helping to pack up the guns into the false bottom of the eighteen-wheeler fell flat on his ass. The icy ground had no mercy for the men trying to work.

“Want some skates?” Tom called out.

“Fuck you, Rossi.”

“Want a hand up, then?”

“You would just let me drop back down.”

“Likely,” Tom agreed.

“Asshole.”

Tom chuckled when the guy tried to get back up, but only fell once more. February was one bitch of a month. Nearing the end of winter, it fooled people into thinking spring was nearing, but it was never near enough.