Rourke
“He wants us to do what?” I raised my eyebrows in shock.
“Kill him.” My best friend, a muscled brute named Brody, nodded as he spoke.
“We’re not murderers.” I stood up and walked closer to the bars that separated us.
“We might as well be.” He exhaled sharply. “What do you think we’re going to have to do once we get to prison? We’re going to be the biggest fuckers in that place, and you know some asshole is going to push his luck.”
It’s been that way my whole life—someone always wants to fuck with the big guy—try to prove they’re a man.
“Yeah, and I’ll do what I have to if it means I wake up in my cot the next morning instead of getting put in a morgue freezer. But murder? We might as well just give away what little piece of our humanity we have left.” I shook my head angrily.
As if what happened a year ago didn’t do it already…
“It’s a lot of money and if we can get out of here—we’re going to need it. It’s untraceable and sitting in an account. All we have to snap that mother fucker’s neck.” Brody motioned across to the man sleeping in the cell across from us.
“Fuck…” I sighed. “What’s his name anyway?”
It doesn’t really matter. I’m sure as hell not going to murder him.
“Josef Weber. He’s some investment mogul fuck, but I guess he decided that he wanted to be a real criminal instead of just ripping people off with his shady business shit.” Brody shrugged. “You remember those two rich assholes that were in here? The ones that got special treatment? He killed their brother.”
“Ah yeah, those guys…” I nodded. “I kept thinking the younger one was going to open his mouth and get my fist shoved in it—I guess they got out before he made the biggest mistake of his life.”
“I heard one of the guards talking. Apparently, this Weber guy set them up.” Brody shrugged. “Now they want vengeance.”
“Don’t we all.” I shook my head back and forth. “Too bad we can’t buy our way out like they can.”
“If we had that money, we might be able to. We could at least track down the bitch that put us in here and shut her mouth before she gets on the witness stand and buries us.” Brody looked over at me, and then back to Josef Weber. “Just look at him—he’s soft as fuck. He’s just going to be someone’s bitch when he gets to prison. He’d probably beg us to break his neck if he knew what hell was waiting on him in the big house.”
“Maybe.” I nodded and walked back to my cot. “That doesn’t make it our problem though.”
I’m not the right hand of justice, nor do I want to kill someone just to make a buck. If I wanted to do that, I could have done it a long time ago—and I probably wouldn’t be sitting in this fucking cell.
I stretched out on my cot and stared at the ceiling. My mind immediately started thinking about her. Anabelle Prescott, the princess in Louboutins. I loved her once—thought she loved me—but that was all a lie. I found out the hard way that she was nothing more than a stone cold bitch with ice in her veins. She’d do anything to save her Daddy—even if that meant pointing the finger at Brody and me when the patriarch of her family was the one holding the smoking gun. Of course, they’d believe her over us. Her lies put handcuffs on our wrists—and our trial wasn’t going to be anything more than a sham, so the state could feel like justice was served.
We were convicted before the body was cold on the floor. I was barely more than a thug—not even a made man because I wouldn’t squeeze the trigger for my boss just because he told me to jump. Brody was from the wrong side of the tracks, and all he knew was violence. Two lowlifes—the scourge of society in their eyes. Fuck my dreams—fuck the things I wanted—it didn’t matter to them. Princess Anabelle’s Daddy dearest just needed a couple of assholes to a hang a guilty verdict on before someone realized he had a lot more to gain by killing his business partner than either of us.
I bet Princess Anabelle got a new pair of those red-soled shoes for doing it too—not like I was ever going to be able to buy her any.
The next day
“Rourke, come here.” Brody walked over and motioned for me to come closer.