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The tall female guard moves back two steps, and Anderson lowers himself on the only chair in the room and leans forward to pick up the telephone.
Even through the thick pane of glass that separates us, I can tell that he looks gaunt, much older than the last time I saw him. I guess two years in prison does that to a person.
“You look well, my friend… “ Anderson says slowly, his dark eyes confidently fixed on mine as if he were trying to read my soul. “You’re more at peace than I last remember.”
“I wish I could say the same of you,” I reply with a casual smirk. “Why did you want to see me?”
Anderson snorts dryly. “That was a long time ago, Pocus. I should ask why you’re here.” He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table in front of him. “I can tell you want something from me.”
“You set Rugal up,” I say, keeping my eyes on his. “What game are you playing, Anderson?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anderson replies in an amused tone. “How can I do anything locked in here?”
I can tell the bastard is lying. He’s playing at something, but I can’t seem to place my finger on what. “I guess I have no business here,” I say, pushing my chair back. I start to drop the telephone, but Anderson’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Rugal came to me a few years back,” he says quietly. “He made a strange request.”
I return the telephone to my ear, my eyes fixated on his. “What did he want?”
“He wanted me to hook him up with the infamous Don Marshal.”
My brows deepen in a confused frown. “Are you talking about the mysterious Italian drug lord rumored to have died in a plane crash eight months ago?”
Anderson snickers. “isn’t that just the thing about rumors? It diverts the attention away from the truth.”
“Are you saying…,” I glance over at the guard to ensure she isn’t listening to our conversation. I return my attention to Anderson, leaning forward in my seat. “Don Marshall isn’t dead?”
“If Rugal is distributing the K4 in the streets, then there’s every reason to believe he isn’t,” Anderson replies. “No one else can manufacture that kind of shit.”
“K4… Is that what it is?” I ask. “The hard drug killing off kids in my territory?”
“Most likely,” Anderson replies with a careless shrug. Like so many things with him, I can’t tell if his indifference is real or an affectation. “Don came to me when he had the formula for the K4. He offered me sole distributorship in exchange for funds, but I rejected the deal. He was already on the wanted list of the NDLEA and even the FBI. I didn’t need the heat… or the money. I guess he found a way to escape justice and manufacture his shit simultaneously.”
“Why are you giving me all of this information?” I ask, searching Anderson’s eyes for the truth. “What do you stand to gain?”
Anderson shrugs. “There doesn’t have to be a complex reason, Pocus. I’m just helping an old friend.”
I scoff quietly, tampering with the irritation in my soul. “I’m no friend of yours.”
Anderson laughs like I just made the joke of the century. “We are more similar than you think, Pocus.” His eyes suddenly narrowed with an intense emotion that wavers between contempt and respect. “You like to think there’s some good in you, and that’s why things have worked out,” he says with a humorless snort. “But really, the only reason you aren’t sitting in here with me is that you’re a luckier bastard than I ever was.”
An amused laugh tries to bubble in my chest, but I only allow a snort. His words might have meant something to me three years ago. I might have even agreed with him. But that was when I had yet to find myself. Now, I know who I am, and a bastard like Anderson Grey has nothing on me.
“Goodbye, Anderson,” I say in a light tone, pushing away from the glass pane.
Anderson’s smirk grows as he watches me hang up the telephone with a definite click. But even as I turn away from Anderson Grey, I can’t get rid of the nagging feeling that I’ll be back here.
And soon.
My phone vibrates in my breast pocket, and I fish it out, glancing at the screen before placing it over my ear.
“Seer?”
“There’s trouble, Prez.”
The urgency in Seer’s voice stops me in my tracks. My grip on the phone grows tighter as I swallow down the panic rising in my throat. “What the hell happened?”
“They captured Hex.”
