Chapter Six
It was official. I’m fucking forty!
As always, she spent her actual birthday with Madalyn. It was their thing since they’d been in college. While most people went out to dinner, Madalyn always cooked Elodie something special. The tradition continued with a slight change.
Chris insisted on taking over the cooking this year considering Madalyn’s current state. His words not mine. Elodie found his overprotectiveness amusing. Madalyn did not. But her best friend didn’t argue. After all, with Chris in the kitchen and outside on the grill, it allowed them time alone.
It may not have been her usual birthday meal of an exotic recipe Madalyn had come up with, but Chris’s grilled filet mignon, baked potatoes, and asparagus wrapped in bacon didn’t disappoint.
Elodie offered to help clean up, but Chris refused, encouraging them both to relax and chat. And chat we did.
She’d just finished her first glass of wine while rehashing the night at the X-Lounge. In true best friend fashion, Madalyn was highly entertained by Elodie’s embarrassing display.
Elodie sent Madalyn a sharp glare across the table. It did nothing to batten down her snickering. If anything she fed off it, laughing harder. Had it been anyone else, Elodie would’ve been halfway home by now. But this wasn’t just a friend. Madalyn was her best friend, closer to her than anyone else. And in all fairness, if Madalyn tripped and landed face first, Elodie would be the first to laugh, before helping her up, of course.
“Wait, so let me get this right.” Madalyn’s eyes watered. She’d been laughing that hard. Bitch! “After you shoot your shot and miss , you referee a fight between your boy toy and the asshole. Which sexy silver fox club owner overhears and steps in, kicking them both out?” Madalyn wiped her eyes. “But not before witnessing you going apeshit on asshole and our recent high school grad calling you” —she twisted her lips— “lovers. Ewww.”
Recounting the night was hard enough, but having Madalyn play it back with commentary was torturous. Elodie sighed and leaned across the table, grabbing the bottle of wine.
Madalyn knitted her brows. “Hey, you said you were only having one drink because you know I can’t.”
“Yeah, and I meant it up until you became a dick, laughing at my humiliation.”
Madalyn grinned and rested her elbows on the table. “On a scale of one to ten, how hot was he?”
Elodie shrugged and felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Ten! Ten! Who was she kidding? Oz was a fifteen. Between his height and build outlined in his suit, his salt and pepper hair, his dark smoldering eyes, and his voice. God, that voice. Deep and smooth. He didn’t say much, but every word was locked in her brain. Especially “Happy birthday.”
“Holy shit, you’re blushing.”
Elodie immediately straightened, feeling the tension in her shoulders. She brushed her hand against her cheek. Her skin was warm. “It’s the wine.”
“No, it’s not! The only thing redder than your face is the tablecloth. Cut the shit and give me a number. Solid eight?”
Elodie flattened her lips, refusing to answer. That didn’t stop her friend.
“Nine?” Madalyn’s tone spiked.
“I’m not gonna rate a man.”
“Why not?” Madalyn scoffed. “They do it to us all the time.”
True.
“All right, fine. Aside from being incredibly handsome and mysterious, and his voice,” —she grinned and fanned herself dramatically— “Gah, it’s so fucking sexy. But he had this confidence, or maybe it was arrogance, but he just owned it like it was second nature. So damn sure of himself. Not a weak bone in his body. He just…”
“What?”
“So, he’s the polar opposite of other men I’ve dated, right? I like a chill, happy-go-lucky guy, right? But this guy is alpha 2.0. He’s intimidating, intense is putting it mildly, and there’s this aura of power around him.”
Madalyn leaned forward, whispering, “And?”
Elodie bit her lip, hesitating. “I’m so fucking attracted to him. He said happy birthday, and I swear my panties got wet.”
Madalyn’s eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and she slammed her hand on the table. “You need to have sex with him. And tell me everything. Like everything . Even if you don’t think it’s important” —she pointed to Elodie— “tell me anyway.”
Elodie grabbed her glass, sat back in her chair, and giggled.
“It’s just strange. He’s not my type.”
“Girl, he sounds like everybody’s type.”
Elodie chuckled, shaking her head.
All talking about men ceased when Chris walked into the room, grabbing two trays off the table. Madalyn sipped her water, smiling up at her husband. Chris knew the conversation wasn’t meant for his ears and didn’t bother asking. He returned to the kitchen, and Madalyn leaned on the table.
“This guy sounds like a ten, Elle. And I would know since I married one. You should go out with him.”
Elodie scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“You said he comped the entire night, right? That’s gotta count for something. Plus, he basically swooped in, defending your honor with asshole and the eighteen-year-old.”
Elodie squinted. “Twenty-fucking-four!”
Madalyn waved her hand. “Whatever. Same thing. You need to go back to the club. Just casually wander into the elevator again.”
Elodie furrowed her brows. “The wife of a police officer is suggesting I stalk this man?”
Madalyn shrugged. “Some men like that.”
“Not the sane ones.” Elodie sipped her wine, refusing to speak further about Oz. “New subject.”
“Fine.” Madalyn pouted, and her shoulders hunched, but she quickly recovered with a new topic. “Did you get a chance to read through those notes I took?”
Her friend’s timing was perfect. Elodie had finally gotten some downtime earlier in the day to go over Madalyn’s notes. There were a few details she hadn’t known from her own research but nothing explosive. Sal Caruso was suspected of quite a few crimes in what seemed like a forty year reign as an alleged crime boss. Everything from drug trafficking to racketeering, and embezzlement to assault. The one thing all his charges had in common was they were dismissed. The most popular reason being insufficient evidence.
“Yes, I read them. Good notes, by the way.”
Madalyn winked and grabbed her glass of water. “What’s your biggest takeaway?”
Elodie had a few beyond the obvious, but she may have been partial since she knew what she was looking for. There was another common denominator in every case.
“No witnesses. Or at least no one willing to testify against him.”
Madalyn furrowed her brows. “What?”
Elodie glanced up at the door to the kitchen and lifted her chin. “Chris said Caruso had been accused of assault multiple times, right? But the victims refused to press charges. And where are the witnesses? I mean, I don’t know much about running drugs, but I think it’s safe to assume it’s not a one-man operation.” She drew in a breath, eyeing her friend. “I think he silenced them by any means necessary.”
“Well, maybe no one saw anything and…”
“There’s always a witness,” Elodie blurted and regretted it immediately. She was allowing her emotion to take over. She grabbed her napkin and folded it. She needed to calm down. “I’m just saying it’s odd, that’s all.”
“I agree.” Madalyn whistled, shaking her head. “And don’t forget. All those charges and he never stepped foot in a courtroom. That’s nuts. He must have had some legal defense, huh?”
Maybe.
“Or?” Elodie licked her lips. “He had a really far reach within the court system, possibly the police force.”
Madalyn knitted her brows and flattened her lips.
Elodie snorted. “You don’t think the authorities take pay offs?”
Madalyn scowled, making it clear she didn’t like the accusation. “No.”
Of course she would be offended. Shit!
Elodie immediately held up her hand. “I don’t mean officers like Chris. He’s one of the good ones, I know that. But you can’t deny there are dirty cops. And lawyers and judges. Hell, there are dirty boutique shop owners.”
Her small joke seemed to get her off the hook with her best friend, and Madalyn smiled.
“Present company excluded, so yeah, I see what you’re saying, Elle.”
Elodie shifted her gaze to the kitchen door when she heard footsteps. This conversation was officially tabled. For now.
When Chris came back into the room, Elodie settled in her seat, and Madalyn mirrored her, clamping her lips. He eyed them both suspiciously. Chris placed the banana bread on the table and passed out the forks and plates. Madalyn had wanted to get her a birthday cake, but she’d insisted on bringing the dessert. Chris sat beside his wife, shifting his gaze between them.
“Do I want to know what you two were talking about?”
“Just Elle’s interesting birthday celebration at a club.”
Elodie narrowed her gaze giving a stern warning. Some things were not meant for third parties. Or husbands. Elodie’s infatuation with Oz was one of them.
“She had a surprise guest show up.” Madalyn winked. “Dalton.”
Chris glanced over with a stone-cold face. “I thought you had to be twenty-one to get into a club.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake!
Madalyn burst out laughing and even Chris shared a rare smile.
“He’s twenty-four!” She shifted her glare between the couple. “You guys suck.”
But she loved them. They were family.
“Okay, we’ll stop teasing.” Madalyn giggled. “Let’s play a game.”
Elodie was up for anything that took the focus off her and her past conquests.
“I’m in. What game?” Elodie said.
“Let’s play ‘pick the brain of your favorite police officer.’”
“Ah, Jesus,” Chris muttered, rolling his eyes. This wasn’t the first time a simple dinner had turned into an interrogation. Though, Elodie hadn’t planned on it tonight. Chris rarely entertained their interest in true crime, but occasionally he shared some stories with them.
Madalyn hooked her arm through Chris’s and leaned into him. “You know some wives don’t take any interest in their husband’s job. You should be happy me and Elle want to take an active role in yours.”
“Active role?” Chris asked and glanced over at Elodie, eyeing her suspiciously. Elodie held up her hands, shaking her head.
“Babe, we’ve seen about fifty true crime documentaries. We’re experts.” Madalyn snickered. “What can you share about Sal Caruso?”
He narrowed his gaze. “Nothing.”
Chris was usually tight-lipped about his work and current investigations. But this was different. Sal Caruso, from everything she’d learned, was no longer active in the criminal community.
Elodie weighed her options. She could just let it go, and it wouldn’t go anywhere. But she’d probably never get this chance again if Chris shut Madalyn down. It was too tempting, and she couldn’t resist. And unknowingly, neither could Madalyn.
“Come on, Chris. It’s Elle’s birthday. Give us something.”
He turned to his wife with a scowl. “Is this why you were asking last week?”
Madalyn smiled, wrapping her hand over his bicep.
“We’re practically detectives, baby,” Madalyn teased, sharing a look and a wink with Elodie.
Chris grabbed his glass, shook his head, and muttered something before taking a long sip. Elodie had her doubts he’d indulge them. He placed his iced tea on the table and folded his arms.
“Sal Caruso was before my time,” he said. It was a good effort to shut down the conversation, but Madalyn was insistent.
“You have to know something.”
“Fine.” He sighed, resting his elbows on the table. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything!” Madalyn blurted.
Elodie silently cringed. Her friend was coming across as too eager. They needed to ease into the questions.
“I’m going to need you to be a little more specific, baby.”
Madalyn glanced over at her. Elodie drew in a breath, prepared to take the lead. It was imperative she asked the right questions to not raise suspicions.
“He’s local, right? All his alleged crimes happened in Lawry and the surrounding areas. And from everything we know, he was never convicted of anything. How’s that possible?”
Chris stared at Elodie but remained silent.
“Unless he’s innocent with a nasty streak of false allegations.” Elodie said.
Chris scoffed, which led her to believe he wasn’t buying that claim. This was good. They were making headway.
“What do you think, Chris?” Elodie asked.
“About what?”
“Sal Caruso.”
Chris glanced down at his wife, then turned to her. “I’m more interested in what you think, Elle. Tell me your theory.”
Shit! Had she had more time to go over her approach, she probably wouldn’t have exposed so much. Unfortunately…
“Well, he was allegedly the leader and boss of an illegal organization. A mafia, if you will. Lots of charges and none of them stuck.”
“What crimes do you think he was involved in?”
Elodie wavered on what to share. She was hoping he’d be more forthcoming. It could definitely backfire with Chris asking more questions than giving answers. But Elodie made the decision to take her chances.
“Gun and drug trafficking, extortion, illegal gambling, racketeering, murder, and the list goes on and on.”
It was all public knowledge.
Chris stilled, eyeing Elodie. “Who’d he allegedly murder?”
Except that piece of information. Shit! Elodie shrugged, trying to play it off and failing miserably.
“People.” She blurted.
Chris cocked his brow. “What people? He’s never been a suspect in a homicide investigation that I know of.”
Elodie steeled her features, sharing a look with Madalyn. Even her friend was caught off guard by the allegation. Madalyn widened her eyes and mouthed, “Murder?”
Shit! None of that was in any official report. Elodie had slipped. She grabbed her glass, taking a sip of her wine and waving her hand. “Well, I mean, all that illegal activity is under one umbrella, so to speak. Don’t you agree?”
Chris’s gaze hardened. “No.”
Madalyn must’ve sensed the tension.
“Who’s ready for dessert?”
Thank you, Madz.
Elodie immediately held up her finger. “Me!”
She sipped her wine, watching Madalyn slice the banana bread and purposely avoiding Chris. But she could feel his eyes on her. She’d said too much. Initially, Elodie had no plans of bringing Madalyn or even Chris into her personal investigation. But when every lead dried up, she’d ventured out, subtly. That backfired.
Chris cleared his throat. “I’ll take a small piece.”
Madalyn plated the bread and handed it out. Elodie was the first to try it, and she had to stifle a moan. Charley wasn’t lying. It was award winning. She took another bite and then another. To friggin die for. When she glanced across the table, both Chris and Madalyn were staring down at their plates and hadn’t touched the bread.
“What are you guys waiting for?”
Madalyn smiled, though it seemed forced. She picked up the bread and took a bite.
“Oh my God!” Her words were muffled, but there was no denying her excitement. “This is so good.”
Yes, it is. Elodie licked her lips and took another bite. She would definitely be having seconds and taking home the leftovers.
“Seriously, this is like” —Madalyn chuckled— “amazing, Elle.” Madalyn turned to Chris, who was watching his wife suspiciously. He hadn’t touched the dessert yet. “You have to try it.”
Chris looked at Elodie and sighed, grabbing the bread and taking a bite. His reaction wasn’t nearly as animated as his wife’s, but the gleam in his eyes told her he too was enjoying it.
“Girl, you have come such a long way with your cooking,” Madalyn said.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Before she could ask, Madalyn smiled, nodding her head.
“It’s incredible. I can’t believe you made this.”
Elodie shook her head. “I didn’t. Charley did.”
Madalyn stilled, and Chris burst out laughing.
“What?” Elodie asked, looking between them. Neither responded, and Madalyn quickly shoved the remains of her piece into her mouth.
What am I missing?
*
Elodie had stayed longer than planned at Madalyn’s house. Thankfully, there was no further conversation about Sal Caruso. Though, Elodie had a strong sense she’d piqued Chris’s suspicions with her curiosity. It was something she’d make note of next time the subject was brought up and certainly not by her. This topic was her problem, and she’d never purposely put Madalyn or Chris in the middle of it.
She walked into her apartment, tossed her bag on the small bench in the entry, and made a beeline for her bedroom to change. There hadn’t been enough time between closing the store and getting to Madalyn’s on time. Her feet were killing her. She toed off her shoes and stripped down to her panties before grabbing her pajamas.
She was exhausted and wouldn’t last more than an hour, but it was part of her ritual. It was her way of unwinding. She always ended the night with a bowl of ice cream and the late news. She was headed down the hall toward her kitchen when she remembered she hadn’t done the payroll for the week. Work had been the last thing on her mind, especially on her birthday. But, she had no choice. She opened her door and walked down the steps. She made a sharp right, and then turned into her office and storage room. She flicked on the lights and sat at her desk. Seconds later, the phone rang.
It was well after hours, and she could’ve let it go to voicemail, but she reached across her desk and answered.
“The Boutique.”
It was a simple name and easy to remember. It may have showcased her lack of imagination, but it was a terrific marketing strategy. Anytime some looked up boutique , her store came up first.
“Hey Elle, got a minute?”
Elodie cursed under her breath. It was the call she’d been dreading. Margot was the property manager for her building, and her lease was up for renewal.
“Hey Margot.”
“How are you?” Margot asked.
“Ask me after you tell me if there’s a rent increase.” Elle laughed, but she was the only one.
“They’re raising the rent.”
It was the worst timing with her current financial state. “Alright.” Elodie inhaled, prepping herself. “How much?”
The line was silent, and she dropped her elbow to the desk and placed her forehead in the palm of her hand.
“That bad?”
“They’re doubling the rent.”
Elodie gasped. “For the store?”
“And the apartment.” Margot added.
Oh, dear God. She drove her hand through her hair, shot up from her desk and circled her small space in a mini-panic. She was barely covering her rent now. Doubled? She might as well close her doors and pack her bags… tonight .
“That’s absurd. Can they even do that?”
Margot sighed. “As the owner, they can do whatever they want.”
It was the second time in less than a week she’d heard someone say that. The first time when Oz said it, it was impressive and sexy. Hearing it this time? Not so much.
“I’m sorry, Elle.”
Fuck. With her mounting bills, lawyer fees, and now this? Elodie was officially drowning.
“First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to send you a list of rentals in your price range. And I know someone in business loans. It’s untraditional, and they’ll hit you hard with interest, but maybe he can help so you don’t lose the store. I’ll text you his name and number. Okay?”
“Thanks, Margot,” Elodie whispered. She was utterly defeated.
“Bye.”
Elle ended the call, fell onto her seat and tossed the phone on the desk. She grasped the arm rests and swiveled in her chair. Even if she could somehow snag the loan, she still couldn’t afford the apartment upstairs. She’d have to find a more affordable location to live.
When it rains, it fucking pours!
Elodie glanced down at her desk. The small slip of paper was sticking out under the inventory worksheets. She knew exactly what it was. Reaching across her desk, she grabbed it before settling back in her seat.
It was the worst timing. Her life was basically in shambles. She was months away from losing her business, she owed money she didn’t have, and her imminent homelessness was a major concern. The last thing she should be thinking about was calling a man.
Or maybe this was just what she needed.
“Fuck it.”
****
The SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the apartment building. Oz waited while security got out and surrounded the perimeter. He rolled his neck, feeling the tension in his shoulders. This was not a meeting he’d been looking forward to.
“Can’t believe she still lives here.” Nash muttered.
Oz shared the same sentiment. In its glory days, the high-rise hadn’t been much more than affordable housing, though it had never been fully occupied. The owner was strict about who she allowed residency. It could accommodate over two hundred tenants. Last time he’d inquired, there were twelve.
He glanced across the street. The Bowery. The line was out the door with massive crowds. They’d be waiting for hours, he assumed. Rogue and Trey’s club brought in a lot of people. The only club bigger than theirs was Oz’s.
“Are you expecting her cooperation?” Nash asked.
Oz resisted the urge to snort, and he looked up at the seventh floor. Inez had lived in the same apartment for as long as he’d known her. The woman had enough money to own multiple million-dollar properties. Yet, she’d never left. But why should she? She owned it.
“No.”
Security was still lining up when Nash’s phone rang. He slid his hand into his chest pocket and pulled it out. “Yeah?”
He was about to get out when Nash swiftly jerked his head toward Oz.
“ Elle , yes, I remember. This is Nash. How can I help you?” He paused, furrowing his brows. “Let me see if he’s available.” Nash tapped the mute bottom.
“You gave her your number?” Oz growled.
All calls coming from any member of the Underground showed up as an unknown caller. They each had a separate phone for personal contacts, but this was Nash’s business phone.
“No, sir. I hadn’t even gotten around to contacting her to set up Thursday night.”
Oz stilled, staring at the phone. How the hell did she get his number? It wasn’t Oz’s direct line, but it was the next closest thing. Nash’s number was available to most of their associates, but only to people who worked with the Underground. It seemed she’d done her research. There were only a handful of people who’d give her access, and they were all connected.
Oz gestured for the phone. Nash handed it to him, and Oz got out of the truck. “Yes?”
There was a small stretch of silence.
“Hi, this is Elle Martin. Not sure if you remember, but I…”
“I remember.”
Elodie was proving to be a woman he couldn’t forget.
“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
He glanced up at the building. “You did.”
“Oh, well, my apologies.” Her voice hitched followed by a nervous laugh. “I got your number from a friend and wanted to thank you for comping the night at your club. It was very generous.” There line went silent for a moment, and then she cleared her throat. “I’ll let you go. Have a nice night.”
It was obvious that thanking him wasn’t the only reason for her call. Again, Oz was intrigued. He also wanted to know the identity of her friend. He wouldn’t push for that just yet and risk scaring her off.
“You owe me,” Oz said.
“Excuse me?”
“Those were your words. You wanted to return the favor for your drink. Correct?”
“Well” —she chuckled— “as I recall, you weren’t interested.”
Oz watched his men line up for his safe passage inside the building.
“I said it wasn’t necessary. Interest and necessity are two entirely different things. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Oz could hear the faint gasp over the line. He tightened his hold on the phone and waited. Elodie wasn’t like other women. She wasn’t as polished in the sense of knowing the game. He found that fascinating.
“I guess I would.” Elodie paused. “When are you free?”
“Come by the club around ten on Thursday night.”
“Is this a date?”
Oz couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a woman on a formal date. If ever.
“No.” He steeled his features. “This is you keeping your word.”
Her soft chuckle echoed over the line, and he cupped his mouth. He liked the sound a little too much.
“Do you want to take down my number in case plans change?”
“Nothing will change. And I have it.”
“Is that your way of telling me my business card isn’t still sitting on the table or found its way to the garbage?”
Oz resisted the urge to give in to a smile. This was new territory for him. People didn’t tease, taunt, or challenge Oz. Until now.
“Give your name at the door, and someone will escort you upstairs.”
“All right. I’ll see you then.”
Oz waited to hear her hang up then handed the phone to Nash. There were a few takeaways from the conversation, one being prominent.
“Go back to her file and find the connection. I want the name of that friend .”
“Yes, sir,” Nash said.
Oz would give more thought to the situation with Elodie at a later time. For now, he had other business to tend to. He headed to the main entrance of the building. The exterior looked slightly rundown. The interior wasn’t much better. There was a small lobby with two dated chairs shoved against the wall. Décor was not Inez’s strong suit.
They rode to the seventh floor. Oz got out of the elevator flanked by security and stalked down the long hallway. It hadn’t been updated in decades, and it was eerily quiet. He stopped at her door.
“Uh, sir…”
Oz looked over his shoulder to Ridge.
“Don’t forget this.” His lips twitched, and he held up a box.
A carton of cigarettes. Most people welcomed an expensive bottle of liquor. Not Inez. She wanted her brand of cigarettes. To say she was old school would’ve been an understatement. She’d been in the Underground long before Oz came along. She may have started small, but she was the largest manufacturer and distributor in the state. Her connection to Sal had skyrocketed her reach and income. She also served as one of his closest allies.
Oz grabbed the box, shaking his head. He knocked on the door and clasped his hand over his wrist. Waiting. Inez was the only person who ever made Oz wait.
Inez doesn’t give a fuck.
The door cracked open, and she peeked through the small space.
“Inez,” Oz said.
The door widened, and she grabbed the doorframe, eyeing him suspiciously. “Well, isn’t this a fucking surprise.”
Oz arched his brow. “Is it?”
He was well aware Ace had called Inez before the MC had even exited the parking lot after their meeting. The Killcreek Drifters had been connected to Inez for years. And she was very territorial over them.
Inez grinned and ignored the question.
“What do you got for me?”
Oz held up the box, and she lunged for it, swiping it out of his hand. She walked back into the apartment leaving the door wide open. He usually took security with him everywhere he went. It wasn’t necessary with Inez. There was no threat. And…
“Just you!” she shouted. “I ain’t entertaining you all. And tell your goddamn goon squad not to block the hallway. I got paying tenants in this place.”
Oz glanced back at Nash, who settled in against the wall along with Caine, Ridge, and Cyrus. None of them said a word and kept their composure. Except Cyrus, who appeared seconds away from laughing.
Oz walked in, closing the door behind him. He steeled his features, combatting the stench of stale cigarettes. How this woman had survived this long was a miracle.
“This about the shipment?”
Oz stood at the edge of her kitchen counter, tucked his hands in his pockets, and narrowed his gaze. “You admit you knew about it?”
Inez smirked. “Gave them safe passage through my territory. Now what they chose to do once they got to yours…” —she paused— “That’s on them.”
Not exactly. It may have been her territory, but anything traveling through the state was the Underground’s business. A fact Inez knew all too well.
“Actually, it is on you. You seem to forget that your territory is in my state.”
“Sal never had a problem with me making side deals.” Inez arched her brow. “Been doing it long before you were in charge, baby.”
Baby. Some used it as a term of endearment. Inez used it to serve as a reminder of her time and position in the Underground.
“And the sales?”
“We’re all out here hustling, Oz. No one knows that better than you.”
Oz eyed her suspiciously, “I take it you’ve gotten your cut from those sales?”
Her lips twitched as she grabbed her box of cigarettes. “I don’t allow anything for free, baby. Ace collected.”
He clenched his jaw, scanning the room. Oz was known for his control. It was something he’d struggled with early on. Coming from a hard childhood would make anyone angry. For Oz, it was deep rooted. It took effort and mentoring from Sal for him to see beyond the anger and rage, and use his mind as his sharpest weapon.
There was a precise balance he used when dealing with Inez. She’d built an empire and had the scars to prove it. The organization was too much for most men, but Inez had carved out her position, and was one of the most feared leaders in their organization. She’d earned respect a long time ago. But there could only be one King. And that was Oz. Though, sometimes Inez forgot.
“You tell that brother of yours to stop dicking around with my boys. Ace gave me the rundown, and you know bringing that much heat around Killcreek puts their home on high alert. That’s Killcreek territory. That makes it Ace’s. And mine.”
“And it’s in my state,” Oz warned.
Inez clamped her lips and sent him a scathing glare. That was undisputed, and she knew it.
“And you just love fucking reminding us all, don’t ya?” Inez sighed dramatically, waving her hands over her head. “Why you gotta bust my balls? I’m a frail old lady.”
Oz scoffed, shaking his head. Inez was just as smart, quick-witted, and calculating as she’d been when they first met decades ago.
“Who asked for passage through my state?”
Inez peered across the room. Oz already had the answer, but it gave him extra leverage if she gave it up.
“Inez.” His stern tone did nothing to rock her composure.
“I know you took care of the guys doing the transport. Nothing else you need.”
The Underground had handled them, but they weren’t the people in charge or calling the shots. It was an order handed down from someone in power. That was the real threat to the Underground. It wouldn’t be ignored or given a pass.
The corner of his mouth curled, and he stalked toward her. With only the breakfast bar separating them, Oz pressed his hands against the counter.
“The name.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Oz, you don’t come here—”
He cut her off with a growl and slowly leaned forward. “If I don’t get a name, then I’ll have to assume it was Ace who bargained this entire deal. Whether that be the case or not, someone will pay for it.”
“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?” Inez glared. It was telling. “You touch my boys and you and me are gonna have a problem.”
“We already have a problem that’s not going away unless I get a name.” Oz scowled. “I’m not asking again.”
“Such a fucking little prick!” she snapped.
Little prick. It was Inez’s favorite slanderous phrase. She’d been saying it for years. On several occasions it had been aimed at him. She’d used it so much with Rogue, Oz was amazed she even remembered his brother’s name.
He smirked. “You can only protect one.”
She walked over to her cabinet, popped up on her toes, and grabbed a bottle of vodka. Inez was a tiny woman. Incontestable. Had he passed her on the street, he wouldn’t have had any cause for concern. She slammed the cabinet closed and grabbed a glass from the counter. Just one. Inez would only be sharing one thing with him, and it wouldn’t be a drink. She twisted off the cap, poured the vodka, and shot it back.
“The name.”
Inez slammed her glass on the table, her lips twisting in a sneer. “I fucking backed you.” She pointed to her chest. “Me. When Sal was talking predecessor and shit, it was me who said he should get rid of Jimmy and have you take over when he was ready to step down. You think any of those fuckers wanted to report to a little prick half their age? The answer is fucking no, and everyone was vying to stand next to Sal to someday takeover. And I told him you were the right fucking choice.” Inez scoffed, “And this is the fucking thanks I get? You can’t give an old woman some peace?”
Whenever she was backed in a corner, Inez always played the old woman card. It was comical to anyone who knew the real Inez. She’d go to her grave screaming and berating all those around her.
Everything she’d said was true. Oz suspected Sal would bestow the Underground to him, Rogue, and Trey. They’d been the most loyal and never wavered on doing whatever Sal asked of them. But he knew Inez’s voice counted more than any other, and she’d backed the decision.
“All right.” Oz straightened and folded his arms. “In this position, what would Sal do?”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and scowled. She knows.
“Inez.”
“Garner asked for a favor, and I gave it. Then the kid came to Ace asking to sell along the way, and I thought, ‘why the fuck not?’”
Aside from Inez, Garner was the biggest distributor in the area. Oz had been aware of their affiliation considering their line of work but hadn’t been worried. Inez only had loyalties to a select few. Though she wasn’t above cutting a side deal on occasion. That wasn’t the issue. The Underground didn’t work directly with Garner’s operation, but they required permission and compensation. Neither of which had happened.
“Where was it headed?”
Inez smirked. “Polinski.”
He swallowed a smile. Oz worked with a vast network of people who ran other states. But he was especially close to those who bordered their territory. It was imperative to keep the peace. Polinski ran his state a little differently than Oz. He never prepaid any shipment of product, which meant he’d take no issue with Oz hijacking the haul. This would fall solely on Garner’s shoulders for the lost transport and money.
“ This doesn’t happen again, Inez,” Oz said.
She grabbed her lit cigarette from the ashtray, ignoring him.
“Not again, Inez.”
She waved her hand, dismissing him.
“Next time you come by, be a real fucking gentleman and bring me some of those expensive fancy-ass cigars of yours.”
Not many people amused Oz, but the corner of his mouth hiked.
“Noted.”
She charged forward, pointing. “And you fix that shit for my boys. This may be your fucking state! But it’s Killcreek territory, and that makes it mine. They fucking earned everything they got, just like you boys. And I will not let you fucking take that from them.”
Loyalty ran deep between Inez and the Killcreek Drifters. And Oz respected it.
He gave a curt nod, walked down the short hallway and left the apartment.
Never a fucking dull moment.