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“Yeah. Honestly, smart enough that I guarantee you he had cash stashed away from any of the home bases. I think he was the kind of man who was even prepared for the family to turn their backs on him, and he would need an escape route. The kind of guy who thinks in all directions at once.”
So that meant one hell of an enemy if any of us found our way in his path.
I mean, yeah, we were all relatively friendly with the Novikoff brothers. We frequented their establishment, at least. But we weren’t involved with them. No one would think we were.
So we weren’t friends with Erion’s enemies.
Still.
Street wars were messy.
Innocent parties could end up suffering too.
“So, you assume he’s here,” I concluded.
“I can’t be sure of shit. Prison changes a lot of people. But if I were placing a bet, I would put it on him being here somewhere.”
We’d had that conversation weeks ago.
And no one had spotted him yet.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t around, of course. It just meant he was purposely staying in the shadows.
Honestly, I was pretty sure the Murphy brothers and I were in agreement that we’d rather he was being out in the open with his moves.
The uncertainty was the worst fucking part of the life we lived.
Exhaling hard, I glanced out of my bathroom window, finding Coach sitting on his yoga mat, his feet unnaturally high up on his thighs, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes closed.
Meditating.
If you’d have told me a couple years back that I’d have a member of my club who fucking meditated daily, I’d have laughed.
But here we were.
I liked Coach.
He’d been a solid choice to join our ranks.
Calm, rational, but ready and willing to do what needed to be done. And, well, I had to say, the fucker had a grudge against his COs from the inside, and he took it out in the fucking funniest of ways.
He stole construction materials from their home renovations to work on his own projects.
At the grocery store when he had a CO in the grocery line, he invited everyone else behind the guard to go ahead of him in the line, tying the fucker up for a solid twenty extra minutes.
He’d tossed a dead fish in the open window of a CO’s car parked overnight on the street.
Petty shit.
But entertaining as fuck.
And since Coach was a good, levelheaded guy, I figured that if he was doing petty revenge, the guys likely had it coming.
Still, I couldn’t wrap my head around the meditating. The yoga, yeah, I got it. Clearly that shit worked because he could do some crazy-ass handstand type positions for ages without his arms shaking. But the meditating, I dunno. To each his own, I guess.
Rolling my neck, I made my way toward the freight elevator that would take me to the lower level, wanting to get some caffeine in me before Riff and Raff showed up later with another car full of guns they’d snagged at shows and shit in the south.
This time, they’d be staying with us for a couple of weeks, since they’d been busting their asses for months to build up a solid supply that we had stashed.
