Page 70 of Indecent Lies

He didn’t do to get something in return.

So when he ended his furious run out by the distillery again, he started to nose around, curious like. And he happened to click a few pictures of the operation inside.

He wondered if they had a permit for that kind of deal.

He figured because there was no security presence, the likelihood of it even being legal with all the proper documentation was slim to fucking none.

He was no longer part of theSoulsinner circle; didn’t mean he hated those Russian’s any less. He remembered the near death state of Grinder and the threats againstSoulswomen just like it happened yesterday.

Maybe if he could do something about it, he’d feel better about looking at himself in the mirror one day.

Whatever the case may be, after a few minutes, his camera roll was full of the filthiest shit he could probably get arrested for in at least forty states.

He hooked his phone on his bicep and got back to running.

He wasn’t far when the same black car rolled up alongside him and Texas internally cursed.

The blackout window in the back rolled down and Texas came to a stop, breath churning through his lungs, the cold air nipped his skin, but more than that, it was irritation looking at the smarmy smirk of the man looking out at him.

“We meet again, Mr. Hunt. One would say kismet,da?”

One would say you’re a colossal dipshit. He didn’t say it of course, because he started thinking as the other man was waxing on about business blah fucking blah.

There was an upside to being the twin to one of New York’s premier ATF agents and that is, Malachai liked to brag.

He liked to brag on all of his accomplishments and how he achieved them.

This meant, Texas knew of every underhanded, sneaky and sly way that Mal extracted information from his rats and sources. He knew how to be charming and friendly, to get the enemy on side and soak up every inch of that knowledge until it was time to bury him.

He went all in before he could stop himself.

“What did you have in mind? And if you say doing the dirty on my club, you can just choke on your own fucking vomit.”

Grigori sounded genuinely amused when he laughed.

“Climb in, we talk over scotch.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. You can tell me now.”

Reaching inside his wool coat, Texas braced for a bullet to the chest, but it was only a business card he offered out of the car window. “Meet me tomorrow evening at this address. You were the treasurer, were you not?” Texas didn’t confirm. “I admire a man who can turn water into wine.”

“I’m no Jesus.”

He flipped the white rectangle of card over in his hand and read the address. It was the apartment blocks they’d supposedly vacated last year after Rider issued his warning to get gone. The same apartments the Russians held a get to know the local assholes party when Grinder helped his now wife steal something from them and then nearly got himself killed.

What Texas gleaned in those two minutes was, the Russian was playing smart, making theSoulsbelieve he’d packed up all his ties in town. If Texas looked into the owner of that building, he’d bet his dick it was not owned by any conglomerate associated to Grigori at all.

Someone was fronting for him.

He just bet it was Rex Marinos.

Turning on his heel, he didn’t offer the older man a word.

Texas started running again on the edge of the road.

The car sped by him, and he kept going until his chest burned.

And a plan as stupid as his first one started to form in his mind.

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