Page 64 of Callan

“My plan is to get a lead from this woman. Carmen. If she’s not involved, someone in her circle is. I checked her place today and found nothing. I’m checking a couple of men who visited with her. Maybe they’ll lead me to their boss. My men have told me there isn’t talk about the heist on the streets, which makes me believe someone’s fucking with me. They may have eyes on me. Although my men have said that no one’s following me around. They better not to. In the meantime…” I muse over my next words. “I will start a different kind of war. A quiet one.”

Our eyes are still locked together.

“If they want to test me, I’ll test them, too. You know who’s on that list,” I say quietly, and he nods his head in response. “Then you know what to do. Just don’t make it look like revenge. Shake things up. Let these people know they can’t fuck with us. It’s either us or them. Money is the best weapon, and we’re about to use it.”

A smile stretches across his lips.

“I like the sound of that, brother,” Alistair says, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “What are you going to do?” he adds.

Faint amusement flickers across his face.

I slide my hand inside my pocket and retrieve my phone.

“I’m playing dumb and fucking with everybody,” I say when a ringing sound wafts from my other pocket.

His eyes dip, filled with questions.

“Don’t ask,” I say, pulling out my regular phone.

I take the call.

“I’m listening,” I say.

“There’s some party going on. A couple of cars just pulled in. They dropped off several men and women in front of Carmen’s building,” one of my men says.

“Fuck me… And I’m not invited?” I joke.

My brother smiles while my man continues, unwavering.

“It looks like a Christmas party.”

“Everything does these days,” I muse.

“Gifts and shits.”

“Uh-huh…” I say, my smile dying out. “The two men are there?” I say, prompted by a hunch.

“It appears so.”

“Their boss?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you know who their boss is?”

“I have a pretty good idea. Ricky The Monster.”

“Ricardo Alvarez,” I say as things start clicking in my head.

My brother’s eyebrows go up slowly, questions forming in his eyes.

“You know him?” he asks.

“I’ve heard of him,” I say.

“What do you want me to do, Boss?”

“Keep an eye on them. And let me know if a short guy with a cross tattooed on his cheek joins the party. I doubt he will, though. It would make no sense. But who knows?”

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