Poor Boy Road (Jake Caldwell #1) by James L. Weaver

Author:James L. Weaver [Weaver, James L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B019X3WELC
Publisher: Lakewater Press
Published: 2016-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“You’re going to end up in jail, man.” Bear cracked open his third beer. “Jail or dead. People who work for Keats don’t tend to have long life spans.”

They leaned back in matching stamped steel chairs on the deck of Stony’s place, the cracked wood frame table in between them. The crickets and bullfrogs around the pond sang a symphony, far more enjoyable and relaxing in comparison to Jake’s normal balcony experience in Kansas City of car horns and police sirens. Jake had spent the last thirty minutes sharing the past sixteen years of his life, except for the mission Keats sent him on. Bear could probably tell him everything he needed to know about Shane Langston, but Jake couldn’t figure out how to delicately launch into his orders to track down and kill the guy.

“Off the record,” Bear asked. “You ever have to whack anyone?”

“This isn’t the 1930s, man. Nobody calls it whacking.”

“Have you?”

“No,” Jake said. “When it came to getting deadly, Keats never sent me on those jobs. Guess he saw that line in me he knew I wouldn’t cross. Besides, he had gorillas who liked doing that kind of shit. I’ve got my anger issues under control.”

“What do you do with it? The anger.”

Jake shrugged. “Push it down. Compact it into a little ball that I shove into a corner.”

“What if the ball gets out?”

“I won’t let it. Not after last time.”

“What happened last time?”

Jake hesitated telling the story to a member of law enforcement. Then again, it was Bear. “Found a guy I was sent to collect on in Oklahoma. Found him in the parking lot raping a woman in the back of his van. I started swinging and it came to me how much he looked like Stony. Once I started pounding and kicking, I didn’t stop until the woman pushed me back. Last I heard he spent the remainder of his days drinking his meals through a straw from his wheelchair. Not saying the guy didn’t deserve it, but the fact I lost control like that scared the living shit out of me.”

“What would you do if Keats asked you to kill someone?”

“I don’t know. Guess it would depend on the reason. Would have to be something better than the guy owed Keats money. That’s for damn sure.”

“Even then,” Bear said. “Even for something the guy deserved to die for like that asshole in Oklahoma. Could you stand over a cowering man and pull the trigger?”

Jake took a long drink and drained the can, crushing the aluminum and tossing it on the table.

“Exactly,” Bear continued. “He may not have asked you yet, but it’s coming one of these days, man. And once you cross that line, there ain’t no going back. That will haunt you for the rest of your life, but it won’t matter because Keats will own your ass.”

Jake popped the top on his second can. “It doesn’t matter because I’m getting out. But this isn’t working an assembly line in a factory.

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