Not that it made it any better.

“That’s how the market works. I come up with a better product for cheaper, and everyone flocks to me. If you can’t handle that shit then you’d better go fuck off somewhere else.”

It was Clifton’s turn to look tense. His face twitched as his teeth clenched together.

“I’m asking for an understanding,” he said, speaking slowly and carefully. “You take certain territory, I take certain territory. No more crossing over. No more stealing customers. The city’s big enough for everyone if we can play by some simple rules.”

Owain shook his head. “We’re fucking killers and thieves. You want rules?”

“Doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Yes, it does. You came into my store and tried to hurt my people. You burned down Leigh’s shop. You fucked with me.”

“You killed five of my guys.”

“And I’ll kill more if you don’t back the fuck off. I’m going to sell my pills however I want, wherever I want, at whatever prices I want.”

“If we can at least agree to fix prices, we’ll both profit.” Clifton spread his hands. “Think about it Owain. You raise your prices to match mine and—”

“And I lose half my customers. I’ll lose money.”

“You’ll make it up on the higher pricing.”

“Bullshit.”

I made a face. Even I saw that wouldn’t happen. If the prices were all the same across the city, then people would go where it was most convenient—which meant they wouldn’t have to travel across the city to a specific bodega in Fishtown anymore, they could find their local Jackal.

Clifton didn’t seem to understand that facet of human behavior. His men were inherently mobile, whereas I was stuck in one place. That gave him the advantage. Owain could only compete if he sold cheaper.

I wasn’t sure if Clifton was dumb or if he thought Owain was.

“Come on. This’ll be good for the city and good for both of us. We can avoid an unnecessary war. No more blood, only money. That’s what we’re both in this for anyway, isn’t it?”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Owain’s face turned dark as he stepped closer toward the trio. Patchybeard’s eyes narrowed and his hand drifted toward his waistband, but Owain didn’t seem to notice. He gazed at Clifton like a man appraising a piece of meat hanging in a butcher’s window.

There was a hunger in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re still going on about that testing shit.”

“I like the bloodshed. I like the fighting. You used to know me, you small dicked cocksucker. You know this sort of shit gets my blood going. I love a god damn war more than anyone else in this city. You think I’m going to step down to avoid a fight?” He laughed, sharp and unhinged. “You lost a step.”

“I didn’t lose shit.” Clifton’s voice was a growl. “I’m trying to help you our here for old time’s sake. You got lucky Owain, but your luck’s going to run out. I got more guys and more guns than you do. If we make this war a real thing, you’re going to lose, bit by bit. All that blood’ll be on your hands. I tried to be reasonable.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Patchybeard took a few steps forward. “Fuck this,” he growled. “I’m going to—”

A shot rang out. A single gunshot echoed through the sapce. A board about a foot from Patchybeard’s head flipped over and clattered to the ground with a brand-new hole in it.

“Better not move again,” Owain said, “or Viktor won’t miss next time.”

Fear sparked in Patchybeard’s eyes and for a second I thought he might turn and run. But instead, he stayed still and glared at Owain like he was caught in quicksand.

Clifton reached out and yanked Patchybeard back by the collar. He stumbled and ran into Cannonball, and the two of them pushed at each other, almost coming to blows.

“I’ll be seeing you around then,” Clifton said, ignoring his two underlings as they bickered.

“Can’t wait.” Owain sneered.

Clifton turned and shoved his guys back the way they came. Their footsteps echoed as they moved back down the side hall. Owain didn’t move until their motorcycles started up again and pulled off, engines roaring until they faded in the distance.

He turned to me, his expression grave.

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s an idiot.”

“You’re right about that. So the price fixing’s a bad idea?”

“Very bad. You’ll lose all your customers. Only reason they come at all is because your prices are lower, but if your prices aren’t any better, they won’t bother coming out to the bodega. Clifton can ride up wherever they are and deliver.”

Owain snorted and shook his head. “I knew it was a bad idea. I just couldn’t put it into words.”

I let a little smile spread across my lips. “That’s why you got me.”

“Guess so, business girl.” He laughed and reached out. I let him grab my waist and pull me against him. I stared up into his eyes and smelled his masculine scent, like motor oil and dirt. “You were a good investment.”

Tags: B.B. Hamel Volkov Crime Family Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net