Page 18 of Reckless At Raleigh High
I unfurl myself like a cat, straightening up with care, never taking my eyes off the guy. “If I walk back that way, I’m coming back with a shotgun,” I tell him.
“Better kill you where you stand then,” the other guy rumbles. His voice is so deep and rough, it sounds like he eats a side of glass with every meal.
“Jesus Christ, this is fucking ridiculous. Quit it, both of you. Zeth, sit back down,” Monty commands. “We can discuss this like the proper business-minded gentlemen that we are.”
The stranger, Zeth, runs me through with sharp, angry eyes, still staring me down. “I’m not business minded. I’m not gentle. I’mpissed. Sitting down ain’t gonna change that.”
Squaring my shoulders, I take a step forward into the office. Monty grits his teeth, baring them like a rabid dog. “Are you fucking deaf, kid? I told you to go.”
I look him dead in the eye—sharp, cold, and hostile. “I just had an interesting chat with Zander. He shed some light on your relationship with my father.”
“God’s sake, Alex. Now is not the fucking time! If you wanna be useful, go find Q. Tell him—”
Zeth tuts under his breath, leaning his weight forward onto Monty’s head. The added pressure of such a huge guy bearing down on his skull must be pretty spectacular, because Monty quits handing out his instructions and opens his mouth, yelling silently.
“Ever cracked someone’s head open, kid?” Zeth asks. “Seen inside their brain pan? Poked around in their grey matter? Pretty fucking fascinating stuff.”
Damn it. I’m not happy with Monty, but I don’t necessarily want him dead. Not yet, anyway. There are still a bunch of pressing questions that I’d like answers to. I take a step forward, ready to snap out a right hook, but Zeth’s eyes narrow a fraction, barely a millimeter, and I know it would be a bad idea. He sees me coming. I can attempt every trick I know to try and throw him off, but this guy’s a professional. He’s played all the plays. He’s wise to any deception I might try and throw at him. “The brain’s an interesting thing,” he continues. “Shielded by bone, floating around in all that cerebrospinal fluid, it has the power to create worlds. Build empires. Inspire nations. But poke at it with something sharp…in just the right way…”
“I didn’t come here for an anatomy lesson.”
He cocks his head sharply to one side. “I didn’t come here to teach one. I came here for a bag. Wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you? Black? Kind you might take to the gym?”
Monty winces, hissing through his teeth, spit flying everywhere. “Keep your goddamn mouth shu—”
In a black blur of movement, startlingly fast, Zeth reaches around, grabs something silver and shining from the small of his back, and—
CRACK!
A hail of splinters explodes into the air. A curl of smoke, bitter-smelling and acrid, rises from the muzzle of the gun in Zeth’s hand. He just shot Monty’s desk, barely an inch away from the old bastard’s face.
“It occurs to me,” the man in the leather jacket says, “that you’re not taking this situation very seriously. Forgive me for not making myself clear. This isn’t a business meeting. It ain’t a friendly negotiation. The bag belongs to me. If I don’t get it back, I am gonna get fucking medieval on your ass. By all means, decide how the rest of your day is gonna look. No skin off my nose. Iwillfind what I came here for…and I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to hang, draw and quarter someone.”
Monty’s as still as a marble statue, blinking like crazy. God knows what having a gun go off right next to your face will do to a man’s vision, but it can’t be good for you. “I—I—” he stammers. God, he’s a stubborn piece of shit. He nearly just took a bullet to the face, for fuck’s sake, and that shot wasn’t an empty threat. It was a reminder of what comes next if he doesn’t start playing ball.
Suddenly, I’m far too tired and bored by this whole situation to watch it spiral any further down the rabbit hole. Fuck Monty. Fuck this job. Fuck Zeth and his stupid fucking bag. “I have the duffel, asshole,” I announce. “It’s at my apartment. You want it, you’re welcome to it.”
“You little shit. You’re fucking dead!” Monty hollers.
He can be mad all he wants. He’s about to learn just how little I like being manipulated. If Zeth’s surprised by my claim that I have his bag, then he keeps his thoughts well hidden. “Take me to it,” he demands.
Monty kicks out, trying to hit Zeth in an attempt to wrestle himself free. “Alex. You’re gonna cost me a hundred Gs—”
Zeth picks Monty’s head up and smashes it back down onto the desk. “Your life worth more than a hundred grand to you, asshole?” When Monty doesn’t respond, Zeth scoots down and bends over him, getting up in his face. “That wasn’t rhetorical.Is your miserable backwater pimp existence worth more than one hundred thousand dollars to you?”
“Y-yes!”
“Then shut your fucking mouth, stand up straight and head out to the parking lot. Cause trouble and I’ll bury a bullet in the back of your head, and the rest of your staff will be dead before your out-of-shape carcass hits the deck. Got it?”
Monty’s eyes are full of fire and brimstone as he reluctantly pushes away from the desk and stands ramrod straight. He puffs his chest out like he just fought and won the right to stand instead of being told to get up. An angry muscle ticks in his jaw. The cold, hard glare he gives me as he slowly walks out of the office conveys plenty with its leaden weight.This is betrayal. You’re fucking dead to me, Moretti. Don’t expect to be forgiven for this…
In all the time I’ve known Montgomery, he’s ruled his little empire with an iron fist. There’s a measure of pride he takes in his work and a level of respect he commands from the people who deal with him. He’s never been disrespected like this before, and certainly not in front of one of his subordinates. Even if he could forgive me for handing over this bag so easily, he’ll never be able to forgive me for seeing him bettered like this. His shame will turn to vengeance, even though my actions have probably just saved his life.
His intentions are irrelevant now, though. I don’t want to be forgiven. I want to burn his world down to its foundations.
Zeth gestures with false benevolence for me to go ahead of him. In a grim, sour tone, Monty insists on having the last word. “Do whatever the fuck you like, Mayfair. You arenotputting me in the fucking trunk.”
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