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I arrive at the Spicy Crawdad a little before eight o’clock. Lacey leads me through the club toward her office out back. The club is filling up. Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” blasts from the speakers as a girl in a tiny pair of Daisy Dukes and a white tank top dances on stage.
“Like I told Jack, I’m happy to take care of this freeloading piece of shit myself. You know I’ve got plenty of kin who are only too happy to make a body disappear.” Lacey comes from a long line of Appalachian bootleggers. She has family all over the trail who know how to dispose of a body. “But I know I’ve got to clear it with him first. If he says he’ll take care of it, well that’s good enough for me.”
“Luka Silvaro won’t be bothering you once I’ve finished with him.”
She stops walking and looks at me. “Just don’t get blood on my carpet.”
I walk past her. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Inside her office, I take a seat behind her desk and wait while Lacey disappears into the storeroom.
With my back to the door, I watch Luka and two of his men enter the room on the surveillance setup Lacey keeps behind her desk.
Luka Silvaro is a two-bit wannabe gangster and a real pain in the ass. He struts in like he’s king shit. Gold chains. Tight suit. Shiny shoes. Slicked back comb-over.
He tugs on one of his jacket sleeves. “So, where’s my money?”
When the chair turns around and he sees me sitting there instead of Lacey, his face pales. But he quickly recovers. “Who the fuck are you?”
When I rise to my feet and walk around the desk to stand in front of him and his thug sidekicks, his eyes follow my every move. His rat brain is scrambling to work out who I am and what the hell I’m doing there.
“I’m the guy who’s come to let you know you’ve got two minutes to get out of this club and never come back again.”
He scoffs, but it’s nervous. “Oh, yeah, and why would I do that?”
“Because I’ll break every bone in your face if you don’t.”
He smirks as he looks at his two friends, then back at me. “There’s three of us and only one of you.”
I tilt my head. “Then you haven’t brought enough men.”
His smirk drops. He shifts nervously on his feet. “Where’s my money?”
“There’s no money for you here. Walk away while your balls are still intact.”
This loser should recognize I’m doing him a favor. I could’ve shot him and his thugs the moment he stepped foot in here and then sent the bodies to a hog farm to disappear.
But he doesn’t.
Because he’s a fucking idiot.
“This isn’t going to end well for you, my friend,” he drawls.
“I guess that depends.”
“On what?”
“How quick you are.”
One of his goons, an ugly shit with yellow teeth and bad skin, pulls his gun on me, but I knock it out of his hand and break all his fingers before the others have time to react. The second guy fares no better. When he comes at me, I break his fingers and an arm, sending him whimpering to the floor beside his friend.
I step toward Luka, and he takes a frightened step back.
“This is the Kings of Mayhem’s territory. When you come around here trying to bleed money out of people for protection, you poke the bear. A very… fucking… big bear with a very… fucking… bad temper.”
“I didn’t know this territory’s been claimed.”
“Everyone knows.”
