like a fucking beast. I was the top earner in the famila for a reason. I’m a terrifying fucker to go up against. People tend to pay up rather than piss me off. But even with all the money I was bringing in, they tried to have me killed. They tried, and they failed.
“Boss’s already impressed with everything you did to those pussies.” My gut twists and my chest tightens with pain. They should’ve known better than to come for me. That shit with my uncle had nothing to do with me. Or my father. And they sure as fuck knew my sister and my mother didn’t have shit to do with any of it. They fucking came for us all the same, though. They should’ve made sure we were all dead. Those fuckers left me alive. And they paid the price. Even if they were the only people I had in this world.
I grin at him and huff a laugh. I need the boss to like me. I need somewhere to go, someone to be. I grew up in this life. And everyone I knew turned their backs on me. If I hadn’t been so fucked up, I could’ve started the business myself. I have contacts. A few I still trust. But I made this call too soon. Now I need to go through with it.
I breathe in deep and walk through the hall to the hangar. The meeting’s going down here. I’m ready for this. It’s not an ambush, but they could easily kill me. It’s just me against all of them. They’re not here for that. No one’s touching me after what I did. Revenge will make a man crazy. Unstoppable. Untouchable. But it’s also left me alone. I’m ready to move on and get back to work.
There are a few small planes in the relatively empty hangar. Stacks of cocaine bricks wrapped in plastic are sitting on a folding table. It's not what I’m used to. I’m more of a blackmail-the-politician type. But shipping and selling will have to do in the beginning, I suppose. Onward and upward or some shit like that. I’ll prove my worth.
Four men in black and grey suits surround the table, watching the two workers weigh and bag the product. As they hear our footsteps, they turn to face us. The boss, Abram, walks toward me. His underboss walks next to him, but a step or two behind. The other two men with them are obviously soldiers, judging from their broad shoulders. One has a scar across his face. It looks like it came from a slash that should’ve taken his eye out. The other has a tattoo scrolling up his neck. Both of the soldiers read as highly dangerous, nothing like Abram himself. Their dark eyes stare back at me as they put their arms behind their backs and square their shoulders, waiting for orders. Marco walks behind them and back to the table. He’s just a soldier. And he’s completely happy with that. He’s a dumb fucker.
“Kane,” Abram greets, as he extends his hand to me. He's a tall, slender man, with black hair that's slicked back with oil. I shake his hand firmly and stare into his eyes; they’re so dark, they appear black as well.
Abram’s a deadly boss. I heard about what he did to the cartel in Mazatlan. I’m not all that happy seeing how he cut ties purely for business reasons. And by cut ties, I mean demolished their businesses, stole everything they had, and murdered them. To call him ruthless would be putting it lightly, but beggars can’t be choosers. I know there’s a target on my back. I need to find a place and lie low. And this is the only option I have right now. So I’m making a deal with the devil.
“Abram. Or should I call you Boss?” I ask, with the hint of a grin on my face.
He smiles back broadly. “Boss, I think.” Hearing that allows me to breathe, but I don’t show my relief. He turns and wraps his arm around my shoulders, guiding me to the group of men. It’s an awkward hold on me, because I’m so much taller than him, but I allow it. “Thank you again, for making this transition easier on us. I appreciate the gesture.”
“No problem.” I nod my head and take a look at the product lined up on the table. That’s a lot of coke. No doubt using my hangar