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I hit him three or four more times, but no matter how hard I swung, he swore up and down Fiona was clean.
Good.
“Okay – last question: you got any other snitches working for you?”
“No,” he groaned.
“That your final answer?” I asked, holding the bat menacingly in the air.
He struggled to get the words out through his agony. “The last one… didn’t work out so well.”
I chuckled. “You can say that again.”
“I answered your questions…” he said, his eyes searching my jacket for the heroin.
“Ohhh… you want your reward, huh?”
He looked at me. He didn’t want to admit it, but yeah, he wanted it.
“Okay,” I said, reaching inside my jacket. “Deal’s a deal.”
I took out my Colt .357 and shot him in the head.
My boys came running in from outside.
“What the fuck happened?!” Eyeball yelled.
“I got bored. Get rid of the body so nobody can find shit,” I said. I handed Eyeball the two phones I’d taken from Eddie’s house. “And get rid of these while you’re at it. Use the cremation oven at the funeral home, or a vat of acid if you can get it. I don’t want anybody to know about this, you hear me? Nobody.”
With that, I left them to handle the details while I plotted my next move.
145
Roach was a lost cause. They’d probably Guantanamo his ass until they had a case on me. But that was fine – losing a few foot soldiers like Roach was no big fuckin’ deal.
What was a big fuckin’ deal was I’d just offed a DEA agent.
Didn’t have much of a choice, really. What was I supposed to do, hand him back over to the Feds, half beaten to death?
I guess I could have quarantined him, just had him sit at home with his dick in his hand – but then I’d never know what he was up to, would I?
And now I knew plenty.
I knew the DEA’d had their sights set on me for almost three years now.
I knew I’d been careful enough that they didn’t have enough to make the bust.
I knew they’d used Venus as a snitch, but she hadn’t given them shit before I had Benjy shoot her.
And I knew that Fiona wasn’t a snitch, either.
As long as nobody ever found Eddie’s body or his phone, the DEA couldn’t prove shit.
I was safe.
146
Or at least, that’s what I thought until I got that surprise visit from Sloane two weeks later.
