Page 2 of Silver Sinner

That reason is the highlight of my day, three times a week.

"Anyway." Moses turns us back to his point. "Delilah lands in eight hours. If all goes well, we should have the loan paid off within the day, and then we can go back to spending like there's no tomorrow."

Delilah. The ship bringing in my crate of weapons that, after inspection, will end up in the hands of the cartel for an eye-watering amount of money. That healthy injection into my bank account will mean bonuses for everyone.

"And," Moses continues around his next mouthful. "If you really wanna break Delilah up, then, as I was saying, we could go for shorter trips. I mean, if you think about it, the rich yachts that dock up every day with drunken trust-fund kids inside barely get checked. That could be our in."

"You want to trade our ships for trust-fund yachts?" I pick up my coffee and glance outside as I drink. A sleek, black car rests against the curb on the opposite side of the road and as soon as they catch me looking, they flash their headlights.

Everything's good.

"You're the one who wants to chop everything up into itty… bitty… pieces." He stamps his words with his final, aggressive sawing of his steak and then sits back, triumphant. "Trust-fund cunts could be our way in."

"And how do we stop those same drunken idiots from taking a close look at their cargo hold?"

"Easy. We pay them in the drugs they're so keen to get high on. Although assholes like that could easily pay us for the privilege to ship our stuff. Nothing quite like a rich kid desperate to act out against his daddy."

"Okay." I finish my coffee and set the cup down. "We'll try it."

"Excellent." Moses abandons the remains of his steak with a sigh. "We have a private chef at home for a reason. I miss her."

A light, amused smile creeps across my face, and as Moses turns to his eggs, my attention drifts. The jukebox changes song again, and a soft, romantic song fills the air above the quiet hubbub of the diner. Everyone here exists in their own little bubble. It's part of their charm. We could all be discussing equally heinous acts and no one would ever notice.

My bliss shatters suddenly when loud, rambunctious laughter rises up from a group of three men seated two booths away from me.

The cold, mean-spirited sneers caught up in that laughter catch in my mind, so I shift in my seat and glance over at them.

They're young, huddled together and cackling like hyenas.

"Ugh," Moses scoffs lowly.

"Bad eggs too?"

"Nah, the eggs here are always amazing. It's those cunts I hate."

"Them?" I continue to stare, narrowing my eyes slightly as I try to hone in on their hushed conversation.

"Aye. When I was ordering last week, I overheard them snarking shit about which waitress would be the easiest to get into bed and they started betting on it. They tried it with the blonde one."

"Tanya?"

"Mhm. She shut them down really fucking fast though."

Another wave of cold snorting laughter ripples through them and they all glance toward the counter where several members of staff dart about, busy with orders and everything else that keeps this place running.

"Looks like they've got a new target," Moses mutters, echoing my own thoughts. "Cunts."

I agree and turn back to Moses, but all thoughts of those assholes melt away when the reason I come here three times a week suddenly appears at my table.

Layla.

She flashes Moses and I a wide, cheery smile. A stray strand of her black hair escapes her bun and she quickly tucks it behind her ear.

"Hi! Is everything to your liking? Is there anything else I can get you? We have a deal on the pies right now because they're near the end of their life so if you want, I can cut you up a couple of slices if you like?"

My heart skips a beat just like it does every single time she comes to talk to me. Her smile is what brings warmth to this entire place, as is the slight pink blush that rests on the apples of her cheeks.

She stands a full head shorter than me, dressed in black pants and a black t-shirt with a white apron that strains over her voluptuous figure.