Private L.A. (Private 6)

“Carmine?” I said.

“Fuck you,” Carmine said, as Tommy tucked his shirt back in.

I sighed wearily. “What’s the proposition, then? I’m a busy man.”

“I heard that,” Tommy said, and laughed. “Saw that too: the expression on your face when Bobbie Newton caught you with the Harlow children. It was worth the price of admission. You’re a television star, brother, you really are.”

“Glad to have entertained you,” I shot back. “By the way, I found it interesting that you designed the security system at the Harlows’ estate, Tommy. The one that was so easily foiled.” I looked at Carmine. “You two didn’t have anything to do with their disappearance, did you?”

The mobster acted insulted. “Do I look like I’m in the business of kidnapping celebs?”

Chapter 66

I SMILED AND said, “You look like a man capable of anything, Carmine.”

Carmine smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Wasn’t meant that way at all.”

That wiped the smirk off his face, which reset as hard and as cold as I’d ever seen it. He sat in a chair across the desk from me, crossed his legs, a man who felt like he was in control. “You fucked me over big-time, Jack.”

“How’s that?”

“Six million in oxy,” Tommy said.

“I can’t control the DEA,” I said.

“But you can tip them off,” Carmine growled. “It’s the simplest explanation, and I’ve come to believe that the simplest explanation is the most likely explanation.”

“Could simply be that someone in your organization ratted you out, or someone stumbled into the load and reported it. Shit luck.”

Carmine shot me his patented shark smile. “Doesn’t matter in this case, now does it, Jack? It’s what I believe happened, am I right?”

I said nothing.

Carmine said, “You gotta pay, Jack. You gotta balance things.”

I did not reply.

“Heh,” Tommy laughed, and I wondered if he’d been drinking. “It’s not like you’re gonna find some horse head in your bed.”

“Miracle of miracles. How about a guy carrying piano wire in the backseat?”

Carmine pursed his lips. “You’re behind the times.”

“Nothing like that,” Tommy said.

“Nah,” Carmine said. “Your brother gave me deep insight into your complicated psyche.”

“Imagine that,” I said.

“Right?” Carmine said, and then made a gesture with an index finger that encompassed the room. “Tommy here says you love this place, Private, more than anything in life, like every day you’re trying to make up for the fuckup your father turned out to be.”

“Deep, Tommy.”

Tommy grinned and turned his palms up. “Truth’s the truth.”

“So?”