The point had to be made that nobody should mess with me and that I wouldn’t tolerate insubordination from an underling. All around us, the men watched, waiting to see what I would do after that blatant display of disrespect. I’d been challenged, and it was time to show the rest of them why they shouldn’t do the same.
Forcing an easy grin, I shrugged and slid the gun back into my holster. “No, I’m not going to shoot you. That would bring the boys in blue on our heads, and I don’t want to be behind bars again. Not yet, anyway.”
“Yeah.” The man looked at his buddies, grinned, then tugged on his shirt like he was some thug that had flirted with the devil and lived to tell of it, before turning back to me. “That’s what I thought, man.”
“Sir,” I said from between clenched teeth, still grinning.
“What?” The man laughed. “What did you call me?”
“I said”—I rolled my sleeves up, slow but sure—“you should be calling me sir. I am in charge of this run, and as such, I own your pathetic little soul tonight.”
The man paled, watching my movements with wide eyes. When I took a menacing step toward him, he stumbled back one step before he forced his feet to stand still. “Y-You’re not my boss. I work for your brother.”
“My brother runs this little crew, yes. While I—?” I grabbed the front of the little fucker’s shirt and hauled him close, nose to nose with the twat. “I’m higher up the food chain, because I’ve worked my way there by following the rules. That puts me in charge of everyone on this dock. Did no one teach you about hierarchy? About showing respect to those who can get your death written off as an acceptable loss?”
The man gripped my forearms, shaking his head. “I get it, man. I get it.”
“I told you to call me sir.” I shook the man. “What’s your name, dipshit?”
The man let out a scared little whimper. So much for that budding respect for the man’s balls. They’d shriveled up into the size of raisins at the slightest sign of danger. “D-Doug. Doug Pearson. Look, I’m—”
“Shut the hell up.” I shoved Doug backward, sick of hearing his voice already. “When you speak, it hurts my head.”
Doug stepped back. “I’m—”
“Jesus Christ, you don’t get it, do you? Let me show you how to listen to your superior’s orders in this crew.” Hauling back my fist, I punched him in the nose, grinning as the sound of his septum cracking into pieces filled the silent night. Still, that wasn’t enough. Man, I’d missed the feeling of things cracking under my fists.
It had been too long since I’d had a good fight.
When Doug hit the ground, his hand pressed to his bloody nose, I grabbed his shirt, forced him to his feet, and punched him in the gut. As Doug doubled over, wheezing for breath, I leaned on the injured man’s back as if he was a piece of furniture. To me, he was. He was here to do a job, and that was it. When he stopped being useful, I’d toss him in the garbage with the rest of the shit that was no longer of any use to me. “You stand the hell up when I’m teaching you a lesson, and you shut up, too. And next time, you damn well better call me sir.”
Doug wavered but managed to stand straight. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Good boy.” I grinned wider, knowing I looked maniacal and not giving a damn about it. I patted Doug’s cheek hard. “And you might want to think twice before opening your mouth to someone who doesn’t give a shit if you saw Mother Mary herself over his shoulder. Understood?”
Doug nodded, his lower face smeared with blood. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” I pointed at the crates. “Now, wipe the blood off your face and get the rest of these unloaded. And make sure you clean up after yourself. We don’t need a blood trail.” I threw a scathing glance at the rest of the crew, who’d done nothing but watch. “That goes for all of you.”
They all jumped into motion like obedient worker ants, including Doug. No one spoke, but they exchanged silent glances as they moved the crates out of the container and into the truck that would carry the goods to the old warehouse outside Steel Row where we stored our inventory. I’d busted their buddy’s nose, but in this world? That earned you respect.
They wouldn’t mess with me again.
Chris, my best friend and another lieutenant, came over to me, crossing his arms as he got closer. He watched me with an appreciative light in his brown eyes. Chris was the one exception to my no-trust rule. He’d gotten me into this world, against all odds, and had been there for me when I’d needed him most. “You handled that well.”
It was sick that beating some dude up was a way to earn praise in my career field, but it was what it was. This life was the only life I ever would know. And that was fine by me. “He deserved it for being a dick.”
“That’s because none of these guys take you seriously.” Chris lowered his head, his brown hair hiding his eyes from me, and studied his nails. His green T-shirt pulled at his muscular arms, and his ink spread all the way down to his wrist. He’d been in the gang since he’d been a teen, like me. He’d joined because his pa had been a member, so this life had been carved out for him from the moment he came into this world.