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Chapter1
Frankie's pinkie finger broke with a satisfying crunch. I could've paid an underling to take care of the grunt work like collections, but a sick and twisted part of me liked it.
It made me feel connected to my roots—the dark and dirty years where I'd climbed up the ranks. I'd built myself up from nothing into the ruler of the city I was today.
Some men in charge liked to use an air of mystery to keep their power. I liked a more direct approach.
Leaning down, I stuck my thumb into where I stabbed an ice pick into his shoulder after I'd originally tied him to the rickety wooden chair. I was surprised neither the chair nor Frankie had broken yet, but I could see it in the man's eyes he was all out of fight.
"Now Frankie, I have a meeting I have to get to. I’m going to have to cut this meeting short." Oh, how I wished I had my box cutter in hand for effect, but it was out of reach. "Now you owe me fifty grand and you've been dodging my guys for months. On top of that, you shot at one of my collectors. So now you owe me money and I'm pissed. What are you going to do about that?"
"The building on Fifth!" he shouted, lisping through the gap of the now missing tooth. "I own it. It's yours."
I looked over my shoulder to Sergei. My enforcer was technically in charge of this sort of thing, but I elbowed my way in when I needed to work off some stress. "Fifth Street? That's a shitty neighborhood."
"Mostly whores and bums," Sergei confirmed.
"It's got ten units. Six are checked out. The land alone is worth over thirty grand. There's a bonus. Give me a laptop and I'll show you."
I wasn't letting this filth get his bloody hands anywhere near my tech. "Go fuck your bonus, Frankie. Sergei, take care of the transfer. If you don't think this will cover the debt, you let me know." I removed my thumb from the shoulder puncture, which caused a whole different type of hurt.
* * *
"Boss,you're gonna want to see this." Sergei's Russian accented voice spoke gruffly over speaker phone.
That was usually meant bad news was coming. Fuck. My session with Frankie had worked to loosen some of my tension but since then, I'd dealt with a missing heroin shipment, a judge who thought they could renege on a previously agreed upon verdict, and the goddamn Columbians trying to get a meeting.
Whoever thought crime was easy money had never been the head of a criminal organization. "Get in here," I ordered before snapping the phone shut.
Sergei strode in before stiffly taking a seat across from me. He set a laptop on the desk.
While criminal empires were often run out of back rooms and dirty clubs, our organization was hidden behind layers of legal investments and above-board imports. We had genuine office space, and very luxurious office space at that, in Miami overlooking the ocean and city lights.
I glanced at the computer without touching it. "What is this?"
"I'll get to that. First of all, the deed is transferred into your name. Alek Rishka. So now the building is ours. Our appraisals guy was able to go over and take a look, but a detailed inspection will take more time." Considering it was one o’clock in the morning, that was understandable.
"What was the appraisal?"
"The place is in a dump and located on a toilet. It's big and has a lot of units but would sell more for scrap than anything else. If we unload it tomorrow, we could get forty thousand for the land alone. If we put more time into selling, we could maybe get fifty out of it."
So, Frankie was going to turn a profit. Wouldn't it have been so much easier for him if he'd just paid me my fucking money? "Make sure Ramone's family gets some extra compensation." He was still recovering in the hospital from the bullet he'd taken in the arm. He didn't have a wife and babies or anything, but I knew he took care of his ma and sister.
"So now the fun part. Remember that bonus Frankie talked about? Take a look at the screen."
I leaned over and studied the laptop, twisting it around so I could get a look at the monitor. It was an extra-large one, and on the screen was an assortment of windows, about ten in total, each showing a different camera feed. Some were static with nothing happening, others showed someone sleeping. One showed a guy with a beer gut watching television. Another showed some kid shoving cookies into their mouth in a bedroom.
"What the fuck am I looking at?"
"Frankie was a fucking perv. He had the entire place wired. Every single room has a camera. High-definition shit. Full color and audio. If he ever caught a good peep show, he'd sell it online to make extra money."
I groaned and rubbed at my temples. "Fuck, I should've broken more of his fingers."
"He thought he was doing us a favor by offering this. Probably figured he was opening up a new revenue stream for us."
"Who the fuck wants to watch a porn of normal people having vanilla sex that lasts two seconds?"
"If there's not an instant burning shame after masturbating, is it even worth it?" asked Sergei in a dry tone that makes me wonder if he's even joking.
"Fucking Frankie," I muttered. "Is this his laptop?"
"Yes, sir. There are months’ worth of files saved on the hard drive. There's also a cloud server with more saved. All of the passwords were saved, so no need to hack into anything."
"Nice."
"Do you want me to take care of this?"
"I don't fucking care what John Doe eats for breakfast. Burn the place down if you want. I'm just about to hand the laptop back to Sergei when I see her, and everything stops.
"Get out," I command.
"What?"
"Did I stutter? Get the fuck out. I'll take it from here. Go home for the night."
There's the slightest narrowing of his eyes, but Sergei knows better than to question me more than once. "You got it, boss."
As soon as he was gone, I enlarged the screen and got my first good look at my angel.
