Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Ben Basuldo is a big guy, dark hair, dark skin, big blue eyes. He’s heavyset, likes to laugh, and loves to tell anyone that’ll listen that he’s from New Jersey and this whole Georgia thing is basically bullshit. Part of me thinks that’s a lie—he talks with a damn Georgian accent like he was born here—but it doesn’t matter either way. Ben was my boss back when I got started in the Famiglia, and he’s the man most responsible for bringing the Valverde organization down into Atlanta and the surrounding counties to begin with.
If anyone knows about what happened back then, it’ll be him. He’s the eyes and ears in the South and even if there are crews that act independently of him these days, he’s still the man through which all information flows.
He grins as we approach, a smile like a rocket ship taking flight, and spreads his arms. “Well, well, look at you, fucking Nolan Vandello here to see his former master. I didn’t think anything would drag you into the city ever again. What was it you said last time we spoke? Ben, Atlanta is a bug nest, and you’re the king roach.” He laughs, throwing his head back, and gestures at the chairs.
“Good to see you too, Ben.”
“Go ahead, take a fucking seat.” Finally, he notices Cora standing behind me, awkwardly crossing her arms over her chest. His smile fades into a quizzical frown as he tilts his head to the side. “Did you bring me a fucking stripper, Nolan? You know they don’t like that shit in here, but I’ve got a place nearby.”
I clench my fists to keep myself calm. “You remember Cora Stone, don’t you?”
His eyes widen and his smile is gone like the breeze. He leans forward, staring at her. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s really the girl that talked. You grew up, Cora.”
“Ben.” My tone’s warning. “Don’t get hostile.”
“What are you thinking, bringing a rat to see me?”
“Let’s talk before you start losing your cool and saying shit you regret.”
He sneers at me but leans back. “All right. Sit, talk. Go ahead and try to make me understand why you’d have anything to do with that rat ever again.”
I sit down and basically pull Cora into her chair beside me. She’s stiff and not saying anything, only staring at Ben with a hard expression like she’s not sure if she wants to hate him or if she wants to turn and run away. I keep my hand on her knee to try to steady her, but I’m not sure that’s helping.
We need to get through this conversation in one piece.
“How aware are you of what’s going on in my territory?”
He glares at me. “You’re tangling with the biker gangs, or at least that’s what I hear. You don’t call me much anymore, kid. I gotta get my news through other sources.”
I don’t ask him which sources those are—I can already guess he’s got a couple moles in my crew.
“Don’t call me kid.” I tap my finger against the table. “The ORB’s been a problem for a while now and you know it. They’re finally crossing the line and it’s time to put them back where they belong, which means things are going to heat up for a while.”
“None of this explains her.”
“I’m getting to that. The ORB’s dangerous, Ben, and I need to make sure I have the Famiglia’s support when that heats up.”
“You know we support you.” His eyes narrow. “But maybe I’m starting to rethink that position, what with the smell of rat all over you.”
“This is bigger than the war, Ben, so listen to me.” I lean closer and drop my tone. “Cora’s here because of what happened seven years ago. She’s here because we both know that shit was fishy, and what happened afterwards was fucked up, and neither of us ever felt good about any of it. She’s here because the chaos with the ORB is the perfect time to smoke out the real traitor in our midst.”
Ben lets that sink in. I’ve found over the years that there’s no skating around a topic with the big man—it’s better to dive right in, lay it all out, and let him do his thinking without trying to wrap it all up in a pretty bow. He can see through that shit from a mile away and it only pisses him off, like you think he’s too dumb to know what you’re really saying. Ben’s a natural salesman, and while he respects another player, he can’t stand being played.
“Even if I agreed with you that doesn’t excuse what this girl did.” He looks at her, face twisted into disgust. “You can hide behind all that dark eyeliner and you can scowl as much as you want, but I see through you, rat. I see what you are.”