Fair Trade by Dustin Stevens

Author:Dustin Stevens [Stevens, Dustin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Ringer is back in the corner booth where he feels comfortable. Where he doesn’t have random strangers staring out through the front windows of In-N-Out at him. Where he doesn’t have to put up with some overdone woman thinking she can call the shots.

Where he belongs.

Around him, his three deputies are grouped up, each looking exactly as they did the night before. Snapper, leaning back in his seat, engaged but wanting to put distance between himself and the disaster that happened at the Ogo’s. Gamer, pissed at the world, sweating profusely.

Byrdie, the left side of his face resembling the aftermath of an allergic reaction, swollen twice the normal size. Staring straight into the center of the table, his one good eye is narrowed, his nostrils flaring.

In total, it is not a good look for the Wolves. A day ago, they were in control. They were grouped up in the bar, masters of their domain. They controlled the entire eastern edge of the city, nothing able to move without their say-so.

Now, one of their members was dead, another had been beaten badly, and they had been unable to secure a single octogenarian. Making things worse, they had no idea who was behind it, their only thread of a lead some snooty woman that walked right in on them, gun in hand.

Leaning forward in his seat, Ringer let all of this simmer. The bottom half of both arms splayed across the tabletop, he lets it all meld together, each aspect pushing the acrimony he feels higher. Every breath is louder than the one before.

This will never do. Not for him as leader, or for the organization as a whole. If things are left as they stand, if they don’t act soon, word will get out.

And when it does, people a lot more imposing than one veteran and his fat sidekick are going to start gunning for them.

“Meeting was a waste of time,” he opens. Low and measured, the words roll out in a grumble, drawing the attention of the others his way. “Woman had no idea who the guy is, says she’ll get back to us.”

Nobody says anything in response, seemingly waiting for him to continue. Having no more to add, he glances up to each of them in turn.

“That’s it?” Snapper asks.

“That’s all,” Ringer replies. “She asked where Ogo is now, asked about the two men you guys saw, said she’d make some calls.”

He doesn’t add that the entire meeting took five minutes. That the drive there and back was almost ten times as long in total. That the damn line at the place was so long, he didn’t even get a burger for his troubles.

“To who?” Snapper asks.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Ringer replies. “What I do know is, this shit has gone on long enough. Who do we have on the house now?”

Casting a glance between Byrdie and Gamer, Snapper looks his way. Seeming to be the unofficial spokesman for the group, he says, “Gold and Sprout.”

To that, Ringer nods.

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