Page 164 of Always: A Legacy Novel

That’s what Wolf taught him. That’s what men like him did.

“You made a mess, principe,” Rick said.

Cross tucked his weapon into the holster at his back. “Yeah, seems so.”

The barkeep poked his head over the bar top.

Rick chuckled at the sight of the man. “All’s good, Roger. Cross took care of it, go back to napping.”

“There’s a body on the floor, Rick.”

“I’ll have the boys carrying it out the back, no worries.”

“There’s brain on the wall,” Roger mumbled, looking green in his cheeks.

Zeke hid his laughter by taking a drink of beer.

Cross smirked into his own glass.

“I’ll get it cleaned up—go back to sleep.”

Roger pulled down whiskey from the shelf instead, and started sipping straight from the bottle.

“Check that bag,” Cross said, “and see if he actually brought cash, or if this was his plan from the jump.”

Rick pulled the bag out from under the weight of the dead man’s legs. “There’s a bit in here, but not enough for what he wanted to buy.”

“How many deals have you done with him?”

“A few.”

“This spot for each pickup?” Cross asked.

Rick sighed. “Yeah, principe, what the fuck about it?”

“He’s just one of several that’s going to start trying to pull shit on you, man. They’re noticing that you’re using the same place for a pickup, and that you either don’t have much backup, or the place is usually empty. They don’t follow rules like us—there’s no morals in this business when you’re supplying street gangs. If they think they’ve got an opening on you, then bet they’re going to take it. That’s all I’m saying.”

Rick’s jaw clenched.

Cross shrugged. “Probably should change venues a bit, or mix it up. Also, have someone else do the deal once in a while. Keep it fresh, and then it messes with them so they can’t make plans like that fucker tried to do today.”

Zeke shot Cross a look across the table.

“What?” he asked his friend.

Rick was waving at Roger to pour him a glass.

“Nobody likes an arrogant know-it-all, man, especially not in this business,” Zeke said.

Whatever.

“Let his ass get killed, then,” Cross said, pushing away from the table.

He had better places to be, anyway.

Cross did his job, so …

“Where the fuck are you going, principe?” Rick asked from behind Cross.