Beautiful Soldier – E. M. Moore Page 0,54

sinking into the acidic bowels of my stomach as I wait to go completely dead inside. As I feared, K releases Johnny and turns toward me. Instead of a hug, he picks up my hand like Johnny always does and brings it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. His lips linger a little too long, and I nearly crack teeth trying to keep the smile on my face.

Enemies close, enemies close, enemies close, I repeat to myself. One of these days, this will all be worth it.

If it isn’t, I’ll just hack that hand off. No big deal.

He lets me go, and I take in a shaky breath. Mag moves closer to me for comfort. He can’t touch me. He wouldn’t dare with everyone around, but he stands as close as he can without arousing suspicion. I want to hug him for it.

Actually, I’d love to do a lot more than that to the red-headed, mature hottie, but that is definitely a thought for another place and time.

I glance around at all the players in the room. Instinctually, I find Oscar first. We share a short staring match, emotions beaming between us before I sit next to Johnny. Magnum stands behind us, and even though it’s stupid, I’m glad to have him there. I don’t want anyone sneaking up behind me.

Other than a few bodyguards catering to K, there are the usual business gentlemen that must be in K’s inner circle. His right-hand men. One of these days, I need to ask Johnny who they are to understand the inner workings of the gang. Dunnegan used to sit at this very table, and he’s dead. I wonder if any of the rest of them are as scared as I am while they sit here. Do they muse over if today will be their last day?

I guess they don’t have to worry if they aren’t doing anything wrong.

Today, the table is set up more like a business table. The oblong silver stretch of metal we once sat at for dinner is now devoid of plates or silverware. In fact, absolutely nothing sits on the solid surface other than Big Daddy K’s forearms as he addresses us.

“I thought it was a good idea to bring all of us together to discuss the incident that occurred two days ago. Firstly, the tower is completely safe despite the attempts to bring it down.”

A guy across the table from us leans back in his seat. He has slick black hair, and out of everyone else here, he reminds me of the gangsters in the old mob films, complete with a red handkerchief in his suit pocket. “I’m glad we went with the extra reinforcements then,” he chuckles.

“From an excellent supplier,” K says, laughing alongside him. When he finishes, he peers around the room as if dissecting us all one-by-one. “Secondly, there are rumors going around about a recruit who was murdered. I’ll let Bat fill you in on that.”

Oscar sits up straight from his usual lazy position. His eyes widen a fraction before he catches himself. Then, it’s as if I’m staring at Big Daddy K, only a couple of decades younger. He’s all smirks and no nonsense statements. “Farmingham had been a recruit, however, he was just recently taken off our prospects list. The intel used by whoever killed him was old. Farmingham’s death is nothing to us except, of course, the meaning behind it, presumably a message. When Magnum inspected the scene, he found Gregory’s calling card. Candy,” he says, in a tone so derogatory that I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing. Candy—and Runts at that—is the stupidest calling card I’ve ever heard. If it wasn’t real, I’d think it was a joke.

K nods at him. “Rocket is getting a team together to work on this, but if anyone hears anything, let us know.”

Everyone nods their agreements.

“That’s everything I have for updates unless anyone has questions...” Big Daddy K inspects the room, traversing all of us with beady eyes before he starts again. “Excellent. New business.” He looks over his shoulder at Trey with a smile like he’ll enjoy this next part. His enjoyment and cool demeanor makes my skin prick. “Bring him in.”

Dear God. What the fuck? Who now?

I immediately leap to the idea that I’m about to see someone’s head get blown off again. Maybe Big Daddy’s name should be something more appropriate. Brain Matter Splatter? Skull Destroyer?

Johnny reaches under the table, gripping my thigh

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