“Tell me what you need,” he says.
“I need you to look into his personal accounts. Taxes, emails, browser history. Anything you can find. I need you to deliver all the bad shit to me, within two days. Can you do that?”
I unzip the bag and show him the cash. I can see the green reflect off his pupils.
“You really going to tempt me with this shit?” He asks.
“It’s part of the job, right?” I laugh. “Come on. You know you want to help me. For old time’s sake.”
He takes another long drag and looks out my window. “Man, fuck this city. I’m kind of shocked it’s still here.”
“It ain’t going anywhere anytime soon,” I say. “And you have a wife and two kids to think about. How’s that house mortgage working out for you?”
“Fuck you,” he says, chucking the cigarette onto the floor. He stomps it out with his boot.
“Exactly,” I mutter. “Do the job. Work for me. It’s to your advantage.”
He takes a deep breath and coughs. “You always knew what made me tick,” he says.
I hold my breath. “Does that mean you’ll do the job?”
“You knew I’d do the job, you son of a bitch,” he says.
“I sure as hell hoped you would,” I say. “Look, you’re doing me a huge favor. Byron has lost his mind.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” he sighs.
“You know?” I ask him.
“That he’s insane? Shit, everybody knows that. He’s been buying kilos of cocaine,” he says. “The lunatic hired me to do a job three months ago, and I swear to the lord above, it was a fucking bloodbath, a scene from a horror movie. I mean, I did the work, but I could barely get to sleep that night.”
“His time is past due,” I say. “But I’m not going to kill him with any lead bullets or anything. I just need him out of the way.”
“Prison will suit a man like him,” he says. “Hate to say it, but it’s true. Don’t worry. I’m on your side.”
“Thanks, Ricardo.”
I pat his shoulder, and he grabs the bag of money, headed toward the front door.
He stops right before grabbing the handle, turns around, and asks, “Why exactly are you doing this? Just business? Or is it something else?”
I glare at his sunglasses. “Did they really put needles in your eyes?” I ask him.
For a moment, he’s silent. “Who told you that?”
I shrug. “Some people. I heard the Syndicate cut your pupils out.”
He smiles and shakes his head, chuckling. “You son of a bitch.”
“I guess some things are better left unsaid,” I say.
He walks out the door and leaves me to my solitude.
Byron better watch his back.
I’m coming for him.
Madison