Page 109 of Privilege

Her piece said—because she really didn’t have anything else to say—Lucia turned around, and headed for the exit of the private dining area. At her back, her father called, “I could ruin him, Lucia. Permanently remove the problem, if need be. It would take one phone call. Five seconds of my time, and three fucking words to do it. But I haven’t for you. Do you understand that?”

She didn’t answer her father.

She had nothing left to say.

“Lucia!”

“Lucian,” she heard her uncle, Dante, say, “just let her go. Better for her to go and take a moment, than for you two to keep shouting at one another like this. That’s not what you want to do.”

“You don’t fucking know what I—”

“I know exactly what you want to do, brother. I know very well. And it will not help, Lucian. It won’t.”

At the door, the enforcer from earlier stepped in her path. “I will take you home, Miss.”

Lucia gave the man a look. “Oh?”

“And I will be escorting you wherever you need to go for the unforeseeable future, or until your father tells me otherwise.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

Lucia nodded. “Well, fuck you, too, then.”

“Lucia!”

That time, it was her mother.

The first time Jordyn even spoke.

Lucia still didn’t turn around.

EIGHTEEN

Renzo stuffed his hands in his pockets, and ignored the buzzing of his phone. Like he didn’t have enough problems to handle at the moment, he wasn’t about to go and add more to the pile by picking up that fucking phone. He already knew what the calls would be about if he did pick it up, anyway.

Perry, Noah, and Diesel.

One, or all of them.

He didn’t know what to tell his guys—his supply was gone. He couldn’t get any more drugs for them to sell. He hadn’t been able to make a proper connection to do a handoff in a week. He seriously suspected Lucian cut him off like he said he would, but he also didn’t have any definitive proof that was the case. He just couldn’t get anyone on the phone who supplied him. But there also wasn’t any reason for Renzo to think Lucian hadn’t followed through on his threats, either.

Well played, Marcello.

If only because now Renzo’s guys were pissed. They had shit easy when it came to him. They never had to worry much about handling things like where their supply was coming from, or taking care of the cash. He always did that. From getting their shit, delivering it, to taking their money and making sure everybody got their fair and equal cut.

He did it all.

Now, they were scrambling.

Panicking.

Renzo had other shit to worry about. For once, they could take care of themselves. Stretch money for a week, or go out and find another crew to get their shit from to take to the streets. If, or when, Renzo got around to finding himself a new supplier, then he’d reach out to his guys and see if they needed or wanted to work with him again. If not, then fine. They were a dime a dozen.

That was the thing about these streets.

People willing to hustle were everywhere.