Page 64 of Riot

“I wanna talk more about this fuckin’ ol’ lady shit?” Bronco titters.

“Wait,Cookie?”Nevada looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “You named the dog Cookie?”

I roll my eyes. “No, Halo named him. It’s cute, it suits him.”

Nevada reaches to press a hand to my forehead before I swat him away. “You’re burnin’ up, bro.”

“Like you didn’t agree to shit snaggin’ your ol’ lady.” I point at him. “Your balls were gone when we were in Mississippi.”

“And I’m proud of that.” He pats his chest. “Nothin’ wrong with a man surrenderin’ his balls if it means he gets the girl.”

“Looks like Bronco’s the only one here who might need a nudge in the right direction,” Priest laughs.

“Blueberry muffins!” Manny sing-songs, swanning in the door with a plate full of freshly baked muffins.

“This is gettin’ weird,” Cash grumbles. “First croissants, now blueberry muffins? On a Sunday? What’s goin’ on?”

“Can’t a boy just be happy?” he chirps.

“Not usually without good reason,” I point out.

“Spring is in the air, chaps, and there’s no time like the present to be lettin’ those love handles loose and just enjoying the fruits of our labor.” Manny waves his hand around as he sets the plate down.

We all reach forward simultaneously and snag the muffins before Manny can smack our hands. Well, once they’re out of his grasp, it’s fair game.

“Love handles?” Cash scrunches his nose. “Should I know what those are?”

“The only fruits you’re gonna be enjoyin’ are the ones in these muffins,” Bronco mutters as he chomps two big bites into the piping hot ball of goodness.

“That’s what you think.” Manny gives Bronco a wink as he leaves the room again.

I turn to Cash once I’ve devoured one and reach for another. “So, what’s goin’ on?”

The reason we were all called in here in the first place at this ungodly hour.

“Remember the job you did back in Chicago?” If I expected Cash to say anything, it definitely wasn’t that. I also know who he’s talking about.

“Did a lot of jobs in Chicago,” I remind him. “Gotta be more specific.”

Cash levels me with a look. “You want your ass kicked by an old man?”

I chuckle. “Right now, you’re makin’ no sense. Assume you're talkin’ about the crime lord and his posse who tried to overrun the Bratva some years back?”

Well, they never called themselves crime lords, but other than a powerful underground syndicate, there really is no other word for them.

“Got it in one.”

“Why you bringin’ that up?”

“Got news. There’s some business execs who are lookin’ into things a little more seriously.”

I pat a hand on my chest. “You almost had me goin’ for a second. I thought you were gonna say the Feds.” Although, I know there’s no way shit could ever get traced back to me. It’s why I was the best at what I did. A ghost. I conversed with one person, Lars, who got me jobs, and he’s dead. Still, that old feeling in my bones, that shit can catch up with you at any point in time and tries to force its way through, but I don’t let it.

“You so sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Cash fixes me with another look. “Then explain why all of the men who were associated with the Chicago underworld at that time, and went against Mancini, are now dead.”

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