She had no idea how afraid of him she should be.
Waiting for the fury to rise up in him, he tried to conjure his father’s words about people like Angie Hunt who helped others game the system. Every time he looked at the state and federal tax bite taken out of his paycheck, he cursed people like her. They were ruining the country.
He hated the smell and the look and the sounds of the pathetic beings that made up the homeless masses. His father’s words rang in his ear again, “Don’t give them anything. They probably go home in a car nicer than mine and live in a house swankier than ours.”
Professional beggars – that’s what they were. They wouldn’t work as long as the government paid them so well not to.
Chapter 41
“The Professor says take care of both of them,” Bones Griff whispered in Earl Perkins’ ear as they sat side by side on the metal bench in the prison yard at Pelican Bay.
Perkins was being paroled in twenty-four hours. Not so much paroled, but released, since they couldn’t make the charges against him stick. On appeal, the defense discovered the prosecution had withheld evidence during discovery. The judge had no choice but to overturn the conviction.
Perkins was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. No doubt he was guilty of the crime, a contract killing ordered by Anson Stark. Sometimes, Griff thought the loopholes of the law were a glorious thing.
“I don’t wanna get jammed up the minute I get out,” Perkins fretted. He was only doing a dime on voluntary manslaughter anyway, because they couldn’t prove the murder for hire.
He was the best man with a knife Griff knew.
“The Professor ain’t asking, dude,” Griff returned, thinking the man was a dumb son of a bitch if he thought he could cross Anson.
“Shit, Bones, you know how it is. I gotta stay clean for a – ” He interrupted himself when Bones reached out and lifted his shirt, pulled at his prison trousers, exposing the jagged scar on the right side.
Bones said nothing, just stared with that accusing look, the one that reminded you of your obligations. Bones would’ve made a good drill sergeant, Perkins thought.
Goddamn!
“A blood oath, a blood price,” Bones murmured, although the verbal reminder wasn’t necessary. Perkins was one of the lucky few who’d been selected to enter into the inner circle of the gang. Not all the Lords were so fortunate.
The Professor had carefully appointed the men who had the skills he needed to keep the organization going both inside and outside the prison. Or in Perkins’ case, to perform a particularly nasty job. “You don’t want the Professor to think he made a mistake backing you,” Bones cautioned. “That would be a stupid move.”
The two men sat close together in seclusion, with other Lords surrounding them in a wide perimeter. If the guards noticed, no one appeared to care.
“Shit, no, man!” the smaller man said, shifting uneasily on the bench as he gazed at the other inmates in the yard, at the guards high up in their towers with their heavy ammo.
“You gotta get rid of the bitch doctor,” Bones emphasized. “Threats didn’t work, the attempt at the Rosedale home was a bust. Fuckin’ new gang bangers. They always do sloppy work.”
Bones swiped at his nose with a finger. “The Professor don’t want another failure. Be quick, be clean, and be efficient. You can do whatever you want with her so long as she’s dead and her body disappears. Completely. No traces back to Anson and the Lords.”
Perkins nodded slowly, catching on to the bonus Bones had just flung him. A slow smile creased his scarred face. “Anything I want?”
Bones laughed aloud. “Just be sure nothing leads back to us.” His face grew sober. “She’s screwing with our business, Perkins, losing us a lotta green. Take care of it.”
“And Cole?”
Bones shook his head like a parent over a wayward child. “Damn idiot. If he’s still alive, just make it quick. He’s too dumb to understand what he did. He’s on the street, should be easy to make it look like an accident. Overdose, hit and run, whatever. Just don’t botch it.”
Perkins nodded in satisfaction. The task would be a snap and put him in Anson Stark’s good graces.
Finally! The idiots were satisfied with the latest merchandise. He’d chosen a girl – young, healthy, and fairly new to the street, a perfect choice. He’d earned twenty-five grand for the job.
A sly smile lifted his thin lips as he remembered.
He hadn’t actually gotten the money in cash, but he had made a tiny dent in his debt to the Moktu Casino. Couldn’t give up the day job, naturally, but maybe they’d let him visit the casino once in a while.
Not often, not yet. Just occasionally. He was making progress.