AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I do.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “And what is your line of work?”
To that, she sucked in a deep breath, gaze moving out the picture window for a moment, watching a couple cross the street, the woman dancing and smiling, the man’s gaze moving over her as she shimmied at him, reaching for his hand, trying to get him to dance with her.
“I’m—“ she started, but was cut off by the clanking of a plate down in front of her. “Fried chicken, fries, onion rings, waffles, and a milkshake,” the waitress said, pulling plates off her arms, leaving red impressions in their wake from the heat. “And fries,” she said, dropping a plate in front of me.
I didn’t even notice the plate clipped the side of my coffee cup until Saylor’s arm was shooting across the table, grabbing it before it spilled all over my lap.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” she asked, squinting at me.
“Thanks,” I said, pushing the coffee further away. “Could do without being burned twice in one day with hot coffee,” I admitted.
“What happened to your face?” she asked as she reached for one of her fries, dunking it down into her milkshake before putting it in her mouth.
“What happened to your knuckles?” I shot back.
“A punching bag.”
“A car door,” I told her.
“Ow,” she said, wincing. “What, were you lying on the ground or something?”
“Tying my shoe,” I admitted with a headshake as I reached for the ketchup.
“Arms,” she said as she shoved an onion ring into her mouth.
“What’s wrong with your arms?” I asked, gaze moving to them.
“No,” she said with a little snort. “No, arms. It’s what I’m in. As a business.”
“Arms. As in dealing?” I asked, looking over her again.
I’d known a few arms dealers in my day. They were usually beefy guys with bodyguards always nearby.
“Should I also question why someone who is so shitty at being aware of his surroundings is in the mob?” she asked, bristling at the idea that I was judging her.
“Just wasn’t expecting that,” I said, shrugging. “There’s a pretty massive arms crew right over the border in Jersey.”
“Yeah, the bikers,” she agreed, nodding. “I get a lot of my stuff from them. They don’t like coming into the city,” she added.
“So, are the Czechs competition for you?”
“The Czechs are thieves who broke into my place and stole my entire fucking inventory,” she said, voice getting tight.
“That explains it,” I said, mumbling to myself, but her head whipped up from where she was cutting off a corner of her waffle, then setting a piece of chicken on it.
“Explains what?”
“Earlier today, a car pulled up, and they unloaded a shitton of weapons into the row house.”
“Did they?” Saylor asked, jaw getting tight, making a little muscle pop in her cheek.
“Guess those were yours,” I said.
“Ya think?” she asked, shoving some of her food in her mouth, thinking while she chewed. Likely plotting revenge, if the fiery look in her eye was anything to go by.
“How’d they get into your place?”
