Page 37 of Devil's Deal

He said it like we were two buddies out for drinks after work and not like I was his boss. Did he think I was going to bullshit about Harlow with him? Did he think I didn’t mind paying him for nothing as long as someone else got it done? I knew I was an easy-going guy, but I didn’t piss away money. This was my livelihood, and I loved The Gin Mill. “Huey, can you sit down, please,” I said, hoping that he understood by my tone that I wasn’t playing around.

He frowned. “Are you seriously upset with me?”

I spread my hands out in front of me. “Can you blame me? I only wanted to see if there was a way I could help you with your schedule or whatever. Help you out a little. And now you’re making fun of one of your coworkers and basically admitting that you don’t work or care about your job.”

His eyelashes fluttered rapidly before his eyes filled with tears. I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Plus, I’d seen authentic crying less than twelve hours ago when Bosley brought in a traumatized Charity. I knew when someone was faking, and he wasn’t even that good at it.

“You don’t understand how hard it’s been. The only person who ever cared about me was my grandfather, and I told you he died right before I started this job. I’m so stressed all the time. My girl’s always yelling at me that she needs money for diapers and for food and for formula and…”

He mimicked talking with both his hands. “And, and, and. I can’t catch a moment of peace at home, and I can’t smoke there because she complains about me wasting money on cigarettes. But you probably don’t get it since your husband handed you a hotel before he conveniently died in a car accident.”

The fuck? I bolted up, slamming my chair back into the wall. “I don’t like your implication, Huey. Not that it’s any of your business, but Mac and I decided to invest in this hotel years before he was killed in the car accident.” I stressed accident. How dare he imply I killed my husband off. Or that I didn’t work hard and earn every penny I made.

He rolled his eyes like a teenage boy getting a lecture from his mother for not cleaning his room, and I was over it. Over him. “Yeah, whatever. I used to believe you until all these mafia guys showed up. My grandfather was right. Guys like you get away with everything,” he said with a sneer, sticking his hand in his pocket.

I scrubbed my hand back through my hair. “I think you should leave for today, Huey. We can talk again tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to decide if you really want this job, and I’ve had a chance to calm down.”

I had a feeling that if I told Bosley about this conversation, he’d strongly suggest that I fire the guy. Hopefully, he wouldn’t slit his throat.Applesauce.This had turned into a shit-show I wasn’t prepared for.

Huey snorted, then moving swiftly toward me, pulled his hand from his pocket. The silver object in his hand gleamed just enough for me to recognize it as a gun before he struck me on the side of my head. His face, a mask of cruel malice, was the last thing I saw before the world went black.

Chapter

Fourteen

BOSLEY

All in all,it had been a decent day so far. After making sure that someone was taking breakfast up to Charity, I’d headed over to the Port Authority to wander around. Going by Bosley Taylor was really working out for me. It helped that I worked primarily in Chicago or on the West Coast. I knew Romeo Caputo had a reputation on the East Coast, but only the old-timers in the Buccelli Family knew me by face.

Before I left this morning, Cory had assured me that he’d take lunch to Charity personally and check in on her. If I’d thought about it, I’d probably have suggested he just have food delivered to her again, but I was so in awe of him willingly helping out this girl—in her skimpy clothes and covered in snotty tears—that I brought home off the streets that I didn’t consider how a conversation between the two of them might go.

I hated admitting it, even to myself, but I was nervous about the reception I might get from Cory. What if Charity told him what I’d done? He knew I wasn’t squeaky clean, but that didn’t mean he thought I was a killer.

As I entered the lobby, Harlow hissed my name, waving frantically for me to come over to the check-in desk. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Cory took Huey into the office to have a conversation with him a while ago,” he hissed urgently. “I’m getting worried.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Amy, the concierge, who I’d only met a couple of times, said, checking her watch. “No, on second hand, it has been at least forty-five minutes.”

Dante wandered over. “What’s the problem?” he asked me while keeping one eye on Harlow. What was that about?

Harlow flapped his arm back toward Cory’s office. “I already told you. Bosley and Huey are still in there.”

I didn’t love Huey, but I didn’t think he was any real threat to Cory. My boy was jacked. Shit, he wasn’t my boy. I wasn’t staying. I needed to get my head together.

“Well?” Dante asked, staring at me with confusion.

“What?” I barked instead of admitting that I’d gotten lost in my head.

“Do you want me to go check on them?” Dante asked, obviously repeating himself.

I wanted to make sure Cory was okay, but I also didn’t want him to feel like I was treating him like he couldn’t handle his own employees. This was his business, and he’d been running it successfully long before I showed up. There was also the fact I’d come back early so I could check on Charity myself. I didn’t want the girl pulling a runner, heading back out to that alleyway where Tad and her friends were until I dealt with that piece of crap pimp.

“No, I’ve got it. I need to run upstairs and check on something in my room really quickly, then I’ll be back down.”

Harlow’s shoulders fell as he relaxed, relief crossing his face. “Thank you, Bosley. I’d do it, but it feels awkward.”

Chuckling, I reached across the counter and patted his shoulder. “No problem. Take a breath, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

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