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“Hey, it’s not wrong to be concerned. We have to look after our little family here, okay? That’s part of the job.”
I scrape a thick slab of browned butter over my roll. “Sure.”
Greg straightens up in his seat, and I noticed he hasn’t touched his food yet. My intuition tells me that he has news.
“Speak up,” I say, waving my roll at him before taking a bite.
“So, I think you were right to be worried about the Triple Six Angels because I got word this morning that the police station that they were being held at burned to the ground last night.”
The roll slips from my hand and clatters onto my plate. “What the fuck?”
He nods solemnly. “Yeah, I hate to bring it up now, but it’s a pretty big deal.”
“Those ugly motherfuckers never learn,” Pasha says, shaking his head. “Don’t they know that the fucking FBI is going to come after them for that shit? Fuck, evenwecan’t do shit like that, and we’re the goddamn Bratva.”
“Right, which is why I’m skeptical,” I say, pointing at Greg. “Where did you get this information from?”
“Wheredidn’tI get the information from, you mean. It’s all over the news. I’m surprised you didn’t see it this morning before you got here.”
“Too busy at his girlfriend’s bar,” Pasha says with a snicker.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I growl, picking up my knife and jabbing it at him. “You’re on thin ice as it is. Don’t test me.”
Pasha throws his hands up defensively, scooting his chair back. “Woah, I was only kidding. I know this is serious. Sorry.”
“Better be,” I grumble, putting my knife down before the waitress has a chance to see it.
I turn to Greg again. “Any other information?”
“The guys who were locked up probably escaped. I think the whole thing was about getting them out and sending a message. I’m sure they probably roasted some cops in the process.”
“Brutal,” Pasha says, but falls silent and tucks his head down when I look at him.
“Brutal indeed,” I mutter. “They’re playing with fire, literally and figuratively. That concerns me even more than the fact that I killed Stone’s pathetic excuse of a brother. They’re not going to be predictable if they’re willing to burn down a police station like that.”
“I suppose their next mission will be to come for you. Honestly, you’re not safe in a public place like this if they’re willing to go to those lengths to get revenge,” Greg says.
“Agreed, which is why I probably need to go back and make sure there’s no trouble at the bar. Oakley has my number, but you never know. I don’t have Maxim posted there right now because he went home to sleep.”
Greg nods. “You could have two people on rotate.”
“Sure, but I think I’d rather have her at my place. It’s safer there. I have a gate,” I reply.
Pasha laughs. “Boss, with all due respect, a gate isn’t going to keep those freaks out. I wouldn’t put it past them to shut down your entire neighborhood just to get to you. You don’t realize how much danger you’re in, and it’s starting to freak me out.”
“Then be freaked out. I don’t care,” I snap. “I have this situation under control. I’ve told you time and time again, but you’re not listening. The Triple Six Angels aren’t some kind of SWAT force with the power of the government on their side. They’re a little ragtag team of alcoholics on motorcycles, shaking down tourists on the side of the road for loose change. They’ve gotten reckless, but that just means they’ll be easier to take down. We might not even have to do anything. The Feds might get them before we do.”
Silence falls over the table, and Greg nods in agreement. Pasha, on the other hand, still doesn’t seem convinced. He has his arms crossed tight over his chest, his shirt wrinkled to an extreme from his defensive posture.
“Let’s hear it,” I say to him.
He shrugs. “You don’t want to hear it. You don’t think they’re capable of doing any real damage, but I don’t agree. They’ve already killed a bunch of people. They’re more than capable of taking you out if they find the opportunity.”
“Let them come. As I said before, I’m more than prepared to gun them all down if need be. I’ve dealt with their kind before, and they scatter like roaches if you hit the leader. My eyes will be on Stone, but my gun will be doing the talking,” I say, standing up. “But you do make a good point about the danger they pose to other, less capable, people, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to the bar and watch over Oakley.”
“Always about Oakley,” Pasha grumbles as I leave.
I pretend not to hear him because if I did, I would have half a mind to turn around and shoot him on the spot. I’m tired of the bullshit about Oakley and my role as the boss. Greg accepts it, Maxim accepts it, but Pasha? No, he has to be such a fucking hard-ass about things.
