Page 12 of Single Mom's Daddies
I stare at him, unmoving. Discussing killing a federal officer in front of a civilian is one of the dumber things Max has done recently. It’s almost enough to make a man speechless.
He leans back like that settles it. “Shit, I can do it before lunch. No mess, no fuss. Hell, it’d even look like a carjacking if you want to pretty it up.”
Renner makes a noise like he’s swallowed a thumbtack. “You can’t be serious.”
Max grins. “Of course I’m serious. You think this thing stays clean if we let every badge-waving bastard sniff around wherever he wants?”
“You can’t just—he’s afederal agent,” Renner says, his voice cracking now.
Max turns to me. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I don’t answer right away. I make him wait. Because Max wants a reaction. And I don’t give him anything he wants without reminding him who’s in charge.
Finally, I speak. “We don’t kill agents. Not anymore.”
Max snorts. “This is one of those times.”
“It’s not.”
He frowns, more annoyed than surprised. “You’re gonna let him stir shit until it boils over?”
“I’m going to let him dig himself into a corner we can see coming. Then we’ll cut the rope behind him.”
“You boys are getting soft.”
I lean forward, voice low and calm. “You want to test that theory in the basement ring?”
Max’s mouth twitches, amused. Renner looks like he’s halfway to cardiac arrest.
“You’re serious?” Max says.
“I am.”
“You want to put on gloves and dance around like it means something?”
“No,” I say. “I want to show you that I can break your jaw and still make payroll by noon.”
That earns a chuckle. Max leans back again, stretching like a man with nowhere to be. “That basement’s for play. Always has been. You want to show you’re tough, do it in the street.”
“You’d be dead in the street.”
He laughs again, this time a little louder. “You always had a mouth on you, Victor. Even as a kid.”
He likes to bring up our age, like it’s a detriment to running our business. As if that would put me in my place. I meet his gaze.“And you always thought we needed your permission to run things, but you were wrong about that too.”
Renner coughs. “Gentlemen?—”
Max waves a hand. “Relax, gallery boy. If we were gonna kill each other, it wouldn’t be in front of your fancy vase collection.”
“They’re ceramics,” Renner says weakly.
“No one cares.”
I stand.
Max doesn’t move yet.
“We’re not touching this agent,” I say firmly. “Not unless he shows up on the doorstep with a warrant and a bulletproof vest.”
