Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Savage speaks up as we come close. “I'm Savage. What do you want here?”
He holds up an ID. “Special Detective Burton. Vice. You in charge here?”
“Right now I am.”
“Okay. I want to talk to you about the Fabbri family. You guys familiar with them?” He scans all our faces, like he's looking for lies. His dark eyes are sharp, no doubt about that, and he's gotta have some kind of confidence to be coming into the compound alone. Either that, or there's a shitload of backup out there.
“I've heard of them, yeah. Why are you asking?”
He points at Paige. “She's just as likely to have that answer as I do. Isn't that true, Ms. Holland?”
“Do I? You told me to go home and stop playing TV detective. Why are you here now?” She crosses her arms over her chest, obviously still pissed about this guy.
Detective Burton nods, not looking embarrassed at all about it. “You showed up poking your nose in an active investigation. If you pushed, it might have ruined months of work. Which it did, I might add, and I was also trying to protect you. If you’d listened to me, this might have gone much differently.”
“Don’t fucking blame her.” Savage looks ready to spit on his fucking shoes. “She’s not an idiot. Would you have backed off in her shoes?”
He nods again. “Fair. Either way it doesn’t matter now. We were trying to build an overview of all the pies the Fabbris were sticking their fingers in. It was a calculated risk. Can't win them all.”
This fucker wouldn't have squeezed out the littlest shit if Paige had become a casualty. We should fucking kick him out of the compound and take a potshot or two if he doesn't move fast enough, but while Savage eyes this guy with contempt and disgust, he gestures for Burton to continue. “Let's hear what you've got to say then. But it better be good, because I don't have much fucking patience for anyone who's willing to let someone die just because it's fucking convenient.”
Burton doesn’t look amused. “Excuse me if I don’t take lessons in morality from fucking criminals, but right now you aren’t my problem, Stefano Fabbri is. Long story short, our informants made us aware of your situation. We know you've got their money, and we know they want Ms. Holland. Good so far?”
Oh, I really don't like this fucker. We can’t trust him, and he knows way too fucking much. The question is, what the hell does he want with us? He has to know he's putting himself in extreme danger here. He's got balls, but I’ll shoot them off if I have to.
“We're listening,” Savage says.
“I'm here to propose a deal.”
Even Savage almost laughs at that. “A deal? With the cops? What the fuck do you expect to get outta us? Why the everliving fuck would I trust you?”
“Enemy of my enemy and all that. Look, I don’t know your intentions, but they’re obviously putting pressure on you and threatening Ms. Holland. We have a common goal, and I'm convinced the easiest way to solve both our problems is to work together.” He shrugs. “Just for this. Would it be the end of the world to build up a little good credit with us? It's the way the world works, right? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.”
“Don’t need your fucking credit,” Crank growls. “But tell us your plan.”
Two minutes later, we're in the clubhouse, us on the couches and Burton on a chair by himself. He doesn't seem bothered.
“Like what you’ve done with the place. I'm impressed. Honestly.” He looks around like he's never been in a church before.
Savage leans back on the couch and crosses his legs, resting an ankle on his knee. “I don't give a fuck whether you're impressed or not. What's the offer?”
“Not much for small talk. I can respect that. Alright, here's the deal. You boys have a meeting with Stefano Fabbri at his Midtown place to do the exchange. I could be wrong, but I’m not getting the feeling that you want to hand over Ms. Holland.”
Paige blushes, but Savage doesn't take his eyes off of Burton. “That feeling would be correct. Let me guess, you want an invite.”
“You're clever. And yes. I would. On the record, I want a look at his operations. Off the record, if he were to come to an unfortunate accident tomorrow, it would save me a lot of paperwork.” His smile is real fucking oily. “I can guarantee that any and all guilt would be firmly recorded on the side of the Fabbris.”
“And after, when his goons realize what we've done? None of us will make it out alive,” Crank says.
“Leave that to me. I'll have backup. More than you guys can muster. This isn't me playing lone gunman, this is the whole damn division wanting to make sure this town doesn’t end up a lawless fucking wasteland where we either bend over for whoever asks, or we give up doing our fucking jobs and live on bribes like some of the other cities. The irony isn’t lost on me that in order to maintain order, we might have to break it, but it’s a price I’ll pay.”