The Viper snorts out a laugh. "Of course you played fucking doctor on him. Did you package up his meat too? How much do dismembered corpses go for these days?"
I smirk at him, all teeth, and enjoy the disgusted looks of his eavesdropping men. "I've got some rich cannibals on my speed dial. They pay by the pound."
They were sick fucks too, but that's beside the point. Green is green and I plan on dying a rich man. So fucking rich there isn't a fucking man in the Bay who I couldn't buy, just for shits and giggles because a man without a plan is just fucking... bleak.
"I need to know about the supply tracks, Illium. I need it now so even though you're having a fucking laugh at my expense right now... I'll double the fees if you get me the information. I'll even get you some fresh meat for the cage, someone to really push your limits."
Hmm. That's fucking tempting but I won't tell this fuck that. "I'll get it done on my own time."
He nods and drops the butt of his own cigarette, crushing it beneath his heel. "You always do."
I take one last drag of my own smoke and then flick it towards the stinking water, blowing the smoke out in one deep exhale. "Anything else or can I go back to my business?"
The Viper rubs his hands together, his rings catching and making a small tinkling noise that sounds fucking weird as hell coming from him. "Just remember Butcher; the higher the man, the greater the fall. Someday you'll need me and when you do, I'll have your fucking loyalty. Every fucking penny I've paid you will come back to me eventually."
I'd rather fucking die. I'd rather get beaten in the cage and be bled out on the fucking mats than devote my life and freedom to someone else.
Never going to happen.
No matter how much D'Ardo and this fuck want it.
I smirk and give him a mocking salute, one that he sneers back at. Not many people treat members of the Twelve with such little respect but I think they all know I could rule them all if I fucking wanted to. I just couldn't give a fuck about the entire institution. They're all only on top for now, only until change arrives and if my life has taught me nothing else it's that nothing ever stays the same.
I watch as the car rolls away, lighting up again and holding the smoke in my lungs to feel the burn. Fucking perfect to kill some biker trash.
I look down at the slip of paper in my hands and frown.
Chance Graves.
That's fucking familiar but I can't quite place it. It doesn't fucking matter, money is money and as long as it's not one of my many informants on the paper I don't give a fuck. With one last look over the docks I get back into my car and start it up, the engine purring like a fucking dream under me. Time to find Harbin and Roxas, get more info on this Graves and get this job done.
I hope the fight is worth it.
I park behind the Tittie bar and kill the engine, flicking out a text and waiting for the reply. It doesn't come, instead the back door opens and Roxas saunters out, the hitch in his step betraying just how fucking wasted he is.
Perfect to get the goods from him.
"Illi, my man! Tell me you're here for a drink? Juliet is here, the tits on that girl! Perfect to stick your cock between." The grin is wide and fucking dumb on his face.
I shake my head. "Maybe later, man. How much do you know about the Chaos Demons? I'm having some teething problems with them. None of them squeal right."
Roxas roars with laughter, lifting the beer in his hands up to salute me with. "You have a fucking way with words. I know way too fucking much about the Demons. They're enemy number one to the Unseen, man, where have you been?"
The door opens again and Harbin steps out. Never too far away from each other, these two. He's steadier on his feet even with a beer in his hands. "Twice in one week, Illi, what's the occasion?"
I shrug at him. "You tell me, man. Everything leads back to the MC clubs at the moment. Were you warning me away from D'Ardo because your Prez is planning something big?"
I can't stand the Boar, more than any other fucking member of the Twelve. He hates that I'm friends with half his crew and does what he can to fuck with me through them.
Roxas had learned that the hard way years ago. I'll never fucking trust that biker Prez again, not for anything.
"What's going on, man? If someone in our club is stirring shit up with you we'll deal with them." Harbin says. Fuck, he's a decent enough guy but he should know by now decent guys don't survive in our world.
"Why are you guys warring with the Demons? I've got a hit on one of them and I need to know if I'm crossing you guys before I go in there, so we can work it out like men." I say, my smirk only getting bigger.
Roxas shakes his head at us both and stalks off to take a leak on the bushes at the edge of the parking lot, facing the road so every car that drives past cops an eyeful of what he's packing. I roll my eyes but Harbin's attention doesn't waiver from me.
"Demons are bad news. Stay the hell away from them, the money ain't worth it." he mutters, taking one last swig of the beer and throwing the empty bottle so the glass shatters against the side of the building. Zero respect for shit around here.
"I've taken the job, it's set in stone. Anything in particular you wanna warn me about?"
Harbin shrugs. "Stay the fuck away from Grimm if you can, and his original crew. If it's one of the younger guys you need then just lure him out by his dick and make sure you leave nothing behind."
Grimm. Fuck, that's where the name is familiar. Grimm Graves has two sons in the MC; Colt and Chance. Fuck me, I have a hit on one of his fucking sons. "Right. And if it's impossible to get the guy without Grimm being aware of it? What's your advice then?"
Harbin eyes me like I'm testing him and I stare back, unrepentant and unfeeling. Just because he's decided we're friends, doesn't mean I'm changing my business for him. This is a point of pride now, I never fail at a job.
"You should know before you go there the Devil is stalking Grimm. The psycho likes to play with his food before he eats it. Don't get caught up in that shit, Illi. In and out."
Well, fuck.
That's almost enough to keep me home.
Because my night hasn't been busy enough, I get a call from yet another member of the Twelve. I miss the days of dealing with mobsters and drug dealers, I swear it was fucking easier.
"If it isn't my favorite meat packer. I have a job I require your... expertise for."
My jaw clenches at the sound of the slimy bastard's voice. "How about you try that again before I tell you to crawl back into the hole you came from, Vulture."
He chuckles down the phone, his mouth way too fucking close so I can hear every little wheeze of his breath. Fucking disgusting. "Come on now, I'm offering a lot of money for the job I have for you. Let's just cut the bullshit niceties and talk numbers. I have a package I need picked up from the airport and delivered to the docks. Big client, big fucking package. There's more money in this than any other business transaction I've ever taken before so I knew exactly who to call to get the job done. I'll give you ten percent of my cut."
My eyebrows hit my fucking hairline. The Vulture is the richest, cheapest bastard out there. Skin sells for a pretty penny and yet he hoards his wealth like he's going out of business. Ten percent... that would be in the millions.