Page 52 of Mob Queen

“Hey, I’m about to head downtown, talk to a few of the street soldiers,” G says as I’m looking through the figures Rome has sent me.

“I’ll come with you,” I reply.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been to the streets for a while, and I want to make sure everything is going okay. Besides, the soldiers may have heard whispers about Dad.”

“Maybe.” G clicks his tongue. “How long will you be?”

I close the laptop, stand and walk around the front of my desk. “How about now?”

“I love a low maintenance woman.” He juts his chin toward my arm. “Show me.” I turn and let him see my freshly added ink. “Sniper rifle.” He nods his head with approval. “Alfonso did a good job.”

Dario is waiting for us out in front of the house. I’m glad Dario wasn’t severely injured in the drive-by, as he’s a loyal driver for me. He gives me a curt nod as he holds the back door open. Once G and I are in the back, Dario navigates my long driveway easily, and is heading downtown. “Moonlight is under construction, and should be back up and running by the end of next week.”

“Good,” I reply as I flick through social media.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

I lift my gaze and turn my head to look at G. “Talk about what?”

“The politician.”

My brows rise as I tilt my head to the side. “What about him?” my tone is hard and unrelenting.

G’s gaze following the marks on my throat, then back up to my eyes. “If this is a reoccurrence, then…”

I hold my hand up to stop G. “It won’t be, because we’re done.” G’s brows knit together. “Do you have something you want to add?”

“Frank,” G pauses and intakes a sharp breath. “My job is to keep you safe.”

“He won’t hurt me.” Miller is a cinnamon roll, he’s sweet and soft. He doesn’t have it in him to cause me harm.

G holds his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say, boss.”

I turn to look out the window, opting not to engage further with G about Miller. It doesn’t take long before Dario pulls up to the curb downtown.

The street is filled with high-end restaurants, exclusive boutiques and entries to over-priced city apartment buildings.

G is out of the car and waits until I’ve sidled up beside him before he closes the door. “It’s been a while since you’ve slummed it with the commoners,” G says with a chuckle.

“Slummed it is right,” I reply in an easy tone. Our conversation in the car is now long forgotten.

Between two buildings is an alley-way that leads to an old speakeasy we’ve converted for the boys on the street. With an air of confidence, I head down the alley toward the speakeasy. G knocks twice and steps back to wait.

The door opens and we’re met by one of the soldiers. He looks to G and steps to the side, then he glances toward me. “G,” he greets before doing a double take. “Don DeLuca,” he quickly adds and straightens.

“Relax, Mario,” G says and claps his hand on the soldier’s shoulder.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. Funny enough, it looks exactly like how I remember it. I spot an aluminum baseball bat in the corner. I walk over and smirk when I see the dent. “How did this happen?” I ask Mario as I point to the used bat. He screws his mouth up and lowers his chin. “I’m not opposed to violence, but I want to know who was on the receiving end to cause such an indentation.”

“One of my dealers has been consistently short.”

“Your dealers?” I lift my chin and stare at him.

“My apologies, Don DeLuca. What I meant was I recruited him, so I felt responsible for him. He was always short on collection day, and I warned him twice, but he kept cutting your money short. So, I had to teach him a lesson.”

“And where is he now?”

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