James by M. Tasia

Author:M. Tasia [Tasia, M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951055271
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Published: 2019-10-18T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

His hands shook as he clenched his jaw even harder. How could they do this to him? He had been loyal, done whatever was asked of him. Now they act as if they don’t even know me.

“Another drink, boss?”

Avante looked up at one of his faithful crew who had stuck around even after everything he’d worked so hard for was taken away. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name, and never cared to learn it along with the other ten of them, but since he held out a bottle of whiskey, Avante acted like the guy mattered.

“Fill it up,” he slurred. How many have I had?

Whatever the number was, it still wasn’t enough to dull the betrayal.

Once his glass was full, the other man left to join the others. Avante didn’t share his room with anybody. They could all bunk in the next room. He wanted to be left alone so he could think of a way out of this.

Over twenty years of taking all the bullshit, back-stabbing, and hits taken at him, only to be hung out to dry. He had worked his way up from being a street dealer to having his own crew. Years of scrounging for his share of the pie had been washed away in a matter of minutes. No warning or second chance.

“To hell with that,” Avante bellowed, but his men knew better than to answer him. He was close to losing his shit and no one wanted to be in the line of fire. He’d had prestige and power. Gorgeous women threw themselves at him, and nobody dared to tell him no.

Gone, all of it.

All because one cop got all bent out of shape when Avante killed his low-life brother-in-law. By rights, the wife and daughter were his, as the debt remained unpaid. The asshole had begged to leave his family alone, but a contract had been agreed upon. Honestly, he didn’t care how, but he would get his money back, one way or another. The lives of two people meant nothing to him unless they proved useful.

Avante looked around the dingy motel room. Vinyl drapes covered in green and yellow flowers, cockroaches lying dead on the floor, a bed that looked ready to collapse, and strange noises bubbling up in the toilet. This was what he had been reduced to. His downtown condominium, his cars, his suits, his money, everything was taken from him. Fucking Bastards.

The room reminded him of the life he had grown up in. His mother was a prostitute, and his father a drug dealer. He had spent his childhood living in motels, barely able to go to school and always hungry. His clothes had holes and his shoes were always either too big or to small, depending on what Goodwill had available.

His mother brought home men, even with Avante and his dad there. How fucked up to allow a child to watch his mother having sex with different men almost every night. No wonder he was quick to pledge his loyalty to the first group who offered him a job as a runner when he was fourteen.

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