Four Brothers
Mar. 18th, 2010 08:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veiledndarknessTitle: Strays 16/?
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Bobby/Jack
Rating: R
Summary: What’s it all worth when you’re alone?
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.
Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
X
It was too dark to see much as Jack was carted into a building, his head spinning from another slap upside his cheek. The back of his head still hurt like a bitch. He stumbled along with the two men, his arms held up by them. He tripped over his feet, his boots scraping over the floor.
“Fuck's sake! Can't ya even walk straight?” Luke snarled at him. He raised his hand and Jack flinched, despising himself for it. “Walk proper 'less you want some broken legs.”
Jack clenched his teeth. He stumbled again, crying out when Luke punched him, fresh pain rolling through his head. Luke grunted and picked Jack up, slinging him over his shoulder. He stalked down the hallway, swearing under his breath.
The floor tiles moved in a blur, nausea twisting Jack's stomach. Luke kicked at a door, the heavy metal frame shaking from the force of his boots. He dropped Jack in a heap to the cement floor unceremoniously. Jack bit his tongue to keep his angry words back, his limbs protesting the sudden drop.
“Cuff him to the pipes,” Luke pointed to the wall, where the slim metal pipes curved down the sides, dingy and dirty.
Jack recoiled, his arms shaking. The other man, silent as he'd been from the moment that they had stolen Jack, took a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket, the metal bracelets glinting in the dark room. Jack licked his cracked lips, a whimper building in his throat. “No...” he whispered, trying to scoot back from the large man. “Don't...”
“You think we gonna leave you t' wander this place?” Luke snorted. “Yeah sure, an' leave a phone so you can call your boy t' come getcha, right?”
Jack shook his head wildly. “No...No Fuck, please! I swear, I won't try an' escape or nothin', jus' don't cuff me!”
Luke rolled his eyes and reached for him, cruel fingers digging into Jack's arm, clear through the flimsy coat. He yanked him upwards. “Now!” The metal snapped shut around Jack's wrist, the sound of it a horrible echo in his ears.
“No....” Jack croaked, on the verge of hyperventilating.
Luke dragged his arm up, pulling him along the cold floor. Jack shouted and squirmed and kicked at them, twisting and yanking to free his arms, his shouts drowning out the clanking of the cuffs attaching him to the pipes. “You bastards, you fucking cunts!” he kicked at them furiously. “He's gonna kill you all, all of you! You wait, he will and I'm gonna fuckin' laugh when he does it, you hear me?!”
Luke landed a vicious kick to Jack's side, the tip of his heavy boots digging in. Jack screamed, sharp red-hot pain spiking up his ribcage. Luke grasped a handful of Jack's hair and lifted him up several inches, shaking him about, relishing the screams that tumbled over Jack's lips. “Fuckin' pussy,” he spat, tossing him back down to the ground.
Jack curled up as best he could, tears streaming down his cheeks. He hitched in a breath, his left arm hanging limply from the metal pipe above him. He let out a sob, the pain unending, raw and fiery. Luke looked him over and nodded to the other man. “C'mon,” he gestured to the door and walked away from Jack, ignoring the pained cries behind them.
X
Bobby let his hand drift to the holster he wore under his coat, his gaze focused solely on the men milling about outside the building across the street. He tugged at his knit cap, the fabric tugged down over his hair and most of his forehead. He frowned, watching the men leave in pairs. The building was one of Sweet's, Bobby was sure of that. What looked like a nondescript building was actually a facility he used to transfer weapons, to strip serial numbers and what not.
One man he watched with great interest. He appeared nervous, smoking a cigarette and looking about every few seconds, eyes wide. Gradually all the men left but the smoking one, his shoulders twitching as he paced.
“Twitchy,” Bobby whispered. He smiled, a cold and unfriendly smile. He slipped out of his car, one of his older, run of the mill cars and crossed the street casually, his boot steps muffled by the gritty snow underfoot.
He fumbled one hand in his coat pocket, drawing out a package of cigarettes. A pang flickered. They were Jack's. He drew one cigarette out and held it between his fingers. He tucked the pack back in and nodded at the kid as he neared him. Twitchy looked at him, the cherry red glow of his cigarette illuminating his face in the fading light.
Bobby patted both pockets and frowned. “Fuckin' hell,” he muttered, “Forgot my damn lighter. Got a light?”
Twitchy nodded, his blue eyes darting about still. He held out his lighter, flame extended and Bobby leaned in, lighting the tip. He stepped back, inhaling deeply on the acrid smoke.
“Thanks man,” Bobby eyed him. The guy looked ready to fall over. Bobby exhaled, smoke rising above his head, watching Twitchy pace. “S' wrong with you? Pacin' like you're an expectant father with the clap.”
Twitchy shook his head, his lips quirking. “Y' don't know shit, a' right?”
Bobby felt a twinge of pain flicker through his head. He cocked his head to the side, smoking silently for several minutes. He dropped his hand, the cigarette hanging between his fingers “Waitin' for someone? You hookin' or dealin'?”
A glare answered him and Bobby smirked. Hit a nerve then, clearly. “I ain't peddlin' nothin' so if ya buyin', keep on movin', fag.”
Bobby moved fast, slamming the guy into the wall of the building, his forearm up against his neck, grinding down hard on him. Twitchy let out a startled cry, his eyes alarmed, his own cigarette dropping to the ground. “Shit...Shit man, s' a joke, s' a joke is all...”
The lit cigarette jutted out between two of Bobby's fingers, the glowing red tip inches away from his face. “You know me, man? Do you?” he growled.
“Nah, nah man, can't say I do, you ain't no homo though, I got it, no worries,” Twitchy babbled, squirming against the brick.
Bobby snorted and firmed his grip. The guy wheezed, his fingers scrabbling at the thickly muscled arm across his windpipe. “Who you waitin' for, huh?”
“No one!” he gasped. “Swear it...”
“Bullshit!” Bobby leaned the cigarette closer. “You're waitin' for something, I fuckin' know ya are.”
Twitchy shook his head several time, his gaze glued to the burning ash, abject terror in his face. “Sweet! Victor Sweet's guy, he tol' me t' stay here.”
Bobby lifted the cigarette, hovering it above Twitchy's cheekbone. He whimpered and struggled more. “Don't....Jesus fucking Christ, don't burn me, man...” he looked at Bobby, as if really seeing him for the first time, horrified. “You...You're him...Mercer...Oh fuck...”
A cruel smile spread over Bobby's mouth, his eyes dark with twisted amusement, pleased by the fear in the guy's face. “Yeah....now listen good...what's your name?”
“R-Ryan,” he wheezed.
Bobby plucked the cigarette from his fingers with his free hand and lifted it up. “Ryan, listen real good now, boy. I'm gonna ask you a coupla questions. You tell me the truth, the whole fuckin' truth an' nothing but the truth so help you, God. If you don't...” he wiggled the cigarette close to Ryan's right eye. “Best speak fast, 'fore this burns out on ya.”
“I don't...I don't know nothin',” Ryan pleaded, tears in his eyes. “I don't man...I'm at the bottom o' the line, they don't tell me shit.”
“Then why they got ya stashed out here, Ryan, hmm?” Bobby pointed to the building. “Sweet owns this place an' everybody knows that.” He dropped his hand, the ash dangerously close once more. “So, why....are....you...here?”
Ryan let out a low sob, his eyes closed. “Don't...Please, Mercer, m' beggin' ya, I don't know nothin'...”
Bobby sighed, though he looked anything but disappointed. His head flared with fresh pains at the panicked screams that filled the air.
He smiled.
X
The phone rang on and on, shrill and tinny in his ear. Green dropped the receiver back onto the desktop phone with a sigh, a tension headache gathering strength in his temples. He frowned, holding his head in both hands. "The fuck are you up to?" he whispered.
"You know they say the first sign that you're losin' it is when you start talkin' to yourself, Boss," Detective Fowler slipped into the office, closing the door behind him with his shoe, a cocky grin on his face.
Green almost smiled. "Nah, it's when you start arguin' back with the voices that you hafta worry. Tell me you got me something on Jeremiah?"
"Jeremiah Williams, aged twenty-eight, juvenile record long as my arm, only one conviction as an adult, and well known partner to the ever mighty Robert Mercer," Fowler sat down in the wooden chair across from Green, a manilla folder in his fingers. "Until recently of course."
"Bobby's associate," Green leaned back in his chair. "You know something I don't?"
Fowler shrugged and that little smirk of his widened. "Maybe...C'mon, Green, you telling me you don't hear the gossip? Please. A guy like you, so...deep...in the street culture and you don't know about Jerry and Bobby?"
He glared at him. "Fowler, you're all over my last nerve. And no, I didn't hear nothin' about Jerry until I started hearin' everyone mentioning him since the shoot up with Mercer's place."
Fowler waved the folder and tossed it to him. "Not too long ago, Bobby let Jerry go. Officially, they split partnership. Unofficially, Bobby kicked his ass to the curb for his new piece of ass."
Green blinked, startled. "What...Jerry's not, I mean...with Bobby?"
"Jesus," Fowler laughed and shook his head. "No, no I mean after Bobby took in this kid, it wasn't long till Jerry got his dismissal. First thought I had was how could things change so fast, huh? Bobby runs this goddamned town, we can't touch him, can't make one charge stick, but suddenly his right hand man is kicked out? Smells rotten, hm?"
"I suppose it does," Green murmured. He opened the folder and skimmed through Jerry's file. "They met up in juvie, doesn't that figure. I swear...Bobby is a fucking one off. Never gonna see someone like him in the next life time, I tell you, Fowler, fuckin' Robin Hood in the streets."
Fowler rolled his eyes. "Uh huh, 'cept for the fact that he doesn't wear tights...that we know of..."
"You don't get it. They see him as a godfather, a...a superstar..."
"Ghetto superstar," Fowler snarked. "Yeah yeah, he's the best thing since Jesus to crawl outta the gutters. Stop kissing his ass, you're not on payroll with him."
"Shut the fuck up," Green snapped. He narrowed his eyes at him before lowering his gaze to the papers. "I say we pay Jeremiah a visit an' see why he fell into bad graces. And this kid...Jack, we need to know some shit, now. What the fuck kind of power does this guy have that Sweet was willing to risk his life over?"
Fowler's smirk faded a little. "You know, it's the weirdest goddamn thing...I ran the kid's name through our databases and nothing came up."
"So? Maybe he doesn't have a record."
"I dunno, it doesn't add up. I'm gonna run a check to see if he has a juvie file. Won't see shit in it, but if it comes up..."
Green closed the folder and eyed him levelly. "You got your contacts, I got mine. I say we get to it. This Jack, of no last name, of no fucking info didn't just pop up in the streets a few weeks ago. And Bobby...he's gonna rip this city apart, you know that, him and his fucking vengeance against Sweet. Stop this shit storm before he loses it completely."
Fowler raised one eyebrow, amused. "A lot like the godfather, ain't it?"
"Shut up."
X
Evan waited at the table, drumming his fingers absently. He watched the people around the diner, his patience beginning to wear thin. With a sigh, he took his phone out and checked the time, then his messages. None still. He frowned and resumed looking around.
"Sorry, man," Angel muttered to the person he bumped into as he walked up the aisle to the booth. "Evan..."
"Can't be on time t' save your life."
Angel flashed a tight grin at him. "You know it. What's with the call? On my way t' pick up Em. Bobby ain't takin' no chances with her while he's...busy."
Evan looked behind Angel, to the side and then at him. "Sit first."
"Fine," Angel slid into the booth and leaned in close. "Spill Evan..."
"I got a tip for Bobby, heard some shit about the kid," Evan spoke in low tones, looking away from Angel. "Tell him not to bother with houses."
Angel stared at him. "Y' shitting me? Who'd you hear from?"
Evan grimaced and flicked a glance at him. "Don't ask, I don't need their blood on m' hands, Angel."
"You want your own blood spilled? Bobby finds out ya knew 'bout Jack, he's gonna put you under the ice."
"No, I didn't know they was gonna take him," Evan hissed. He looked to the waitress wandering past them and waited a beat. He leaned in real close to Angel, the words fast and near whispered. "I didn't know, I jus' took a fuckin' guess. Sweet's usin' Jack for leverage, he knows Bobby's gone and flipped his shit for the kid, s' a distraction is all, he knows it, we all know it. Take Bobby out, an' he moves in, clear? Get Em some place safe, get y' self outta here, cause he's gonna take ev'ryone out if it means fuckin' Bobby over."
Angel swallowed. "That puny lil' fucker," he muttered under his breath.
“Tell Bobby what I said, leave my name outta it. I got my own family to protect.”
Angel rubbed a hand over his chin. “How many warehouses does Sweet got?”
X
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Bobby/Jack
Rating: R
Summary: What’s it all worth when you’re alone?
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.
Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
X
It was too dark to see much as Jack was carted into a building, his head spinning from another slap upside his cheek. The back of his head still hurt like a bitch. He stumbled along with the two men, his arms held up by them. He tripped over his feet, his boots scraping over the floor.
“Fuck's sake! Can't ya even walk straight?” Luke snarled at him. He raised his hand and Jack flinched, despising himself for it. “Walk proper 'less you want some broken legs.”
Jack clenched his teeth. He stumbled again, crying out when Luke punched him, fresh pain rolling through his head. Luke grunted and picked Jack up, slinging him over his shoulder. He stalked down the hallway, swearing under his breath.
The floor tiles moved in a blur, nausea twisting Jack's stomach. Luke kicked at a door, the heavy metal frame shaking from the force of his boots. He dropped Jack in a heap to the cement floor unceremoniously. Jack bit his tongue to keep his angry words back, his limbs protesting the sudden drop.
“Cuff him to the pipes,” Luke pointed to the wall, where the slim metal pipes curved down the sides, dingy and dirty.
Jack recoiled, his arms shaking. The other man, silent as he'd been from the moment that they had stolen Jack, took a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket, the metal bracelets glinting in the dark room. Jack licked his cracked lips, a whimper building in his throat. “No...” he whispered, trying to scoot back from the large man. “Don't...”
“You think we gonna leave you t' wander this place?” Luke snorted. “Yeah sure, an' leave a phone so you can call your boy t' come getcha, right?”
Jack shook his head wildly. “No...No Fuck, please! I swear, I won't try an' escape or nothin', jus' don't cuff me!”
Luke rolled his eyes and reached for him, cruel fingers digging into Jack's arm, clear through the flimsy coat. He yanked him upwards. “Now!” The metal snapped shut around Jack's wrist, the sound of it a horrible echo in his ears.
“No....” Jack croaked, on the verge of hyperventilating.
Luke dragged his arm up, pulling him along the cold floor. Jack shouted and squirmed and kicked at them, twisting and yanking to free his arms, his shouts drowning out the clanking of the cuffs attaching him to the pipes. “You bastards, you fucking cunts!” he kicked at them furiously. “He's gonna kill you all, all of you! You wait, he will and I'm gonna fuckin' laugh when he does it, you hear me?!”
Luke landed a vicious kick to Jack's side, the tip of his heavy boots digging in. Jack screamed, sharp red-hot pain spiking up his ribcage. Luke grasped a handful of Jack's hair and lifted him up several inches, shaking him about, relishing the screams that tumbled over Jack's lips. “Fuckin' pussy,” he spat, tossing him back down to the ground.
Jack curled up as best he could, tears streaming down his cheeks. He hitched in a breath, his left arm hanging limply from the metal pipe above him. He let out a sob, the pain unending, raw and fiery. Luke looked him over and nodded to the other man. “C'mon,” he gestured to the door and walked away from Jack, ignoring the pained cries behind them.
X
Bobby let his hand drift to the holster he wore under his coat, his gaze focused solely on the men milling about outside the building across the street. He tugged at his knit cap, the fabric tugged down over his hair and most of his forehead. He frowned, watching the men leave in pairs. The building was one of Sweet's, Bobby was sure of that. What looked like a nondescript building was actually a facility he used to transfer weapons, to strip serial numbers and what not.
One man he watched with great interest. He appeared nervous, smoking a cigarette and looking about every few seconds, eyes wide. Gradually all the men left but the smoking one, his shoulders twitching as he paced.
“Twitchy,” Bobby whispered. He smiled, a cold and unfriendly smile. He slipped out of his car, one of his older, run of the mill cars and crossed the street casually, his boot steps muffled by the gritty snow underfoot.
He fumbled one hand in his coat pocket, drawing out a package of cigarettes. A pang flickered. They were Jack's. He drew one cigarette out and held it between his fingers. He tucked the pack back in and nodded at the kid as he neared him. Twitchy looked at him, the cherry red glow of his cigarette illuminating his face in the fading light.
Bobby patted both pockets and frowned. “Fuckin' hell,” he muttered, “Forgot my damn lighter. Got a light?”
Twitchy nodded, his blue eyes darting about still. He held out his lighter, flame extended and Bobby leaned in, lighting the tip. He stepped back, inhaling deeply on the acrid smoke.
“Thanks man,” Bobby eyed him. The guy looked ready to fall over. Bobby exhaled, smoke rising above his head, watching Twitchy pace. “S' wrong with you? Pacin' like you're an expectant father with the clap.”
Twitchy shook his head, his lips quirking. “Y' don't know shit, a' right?”
Bobby felt a twinge of pain flicker through his head. He cocked his head to the side, smoking silently for several minutes. He dropped his hand, the cigarette hanging between his fingers “Waitin' for someone? You hookin' or dealin'?”
A glare answered him and Bobby smirked. Hit a nerve then, clearly. “I ain't peddlin' nothin' so if ya buyin', keep on movin', fag.”
Bobby moved fast, slamming the guy into the wall of the building, his forearm up against his neck, grinding down hard on him. Twitchy let out a startled cry, his eyes alarmed, his own cigarette dropping to the ground. “Shit...Shit man, s' a joke, s' a joke is all...”
The lit cigarette jutted out between two of Bobby's fingers, the glowing red tip inches away from his face. “You know me, man? Do you?” he growled.
“Nah, nah man, can't say I do, you ain't no homo though, I got it, no worries,” Twitchy babbled, squirming against the brick.
Bobby snorted and firmed his grip. The guy wheezed, his fingers scrabbling at the thickly muscled arm across his windpipe. “Who you waitin' for, huh?”
“No one!” he gasped. “Swear it...”
“Bullshit!” Bobby leaned the cigarette closer. “You're waitin' for something, I fuckin' know ya are.”
Twitchy shook his head several time, his gaze glued to the burning ash, abject terror in his face. “Sweet! Victor Sweet's guy, he tol' me t' stay here.”
Bobby lifted the cigarette, hovering it above Twitchy's cheekbone. He whimpered and struggled more. “Don't....Jesus fucking Christ, don't burn me, man...” he looked at Bobby, as if really seeing him for the first time, horrified. “You...You're him...Mercer...Oh fuck...”
A cruel smile spread over Bobby's mouth, his eyes dark with twisted amusement, pleased by the fear in the guy's face. “Yeah....now listen good...what's your name?”
“R-Ryan,” he wheezed.
Bobby plucked the cigarette from his fingers with his free hand and lifted it up. “Ryan, listen real good now, boy. I'm gonna ask you a coupla questions. You tell me the truth, the whole fuckin' truth an' nothing but the truth so help you, God. If you don't...” he wiggled the cigarette close to Ryan's right eye. “Best speak fast, 'fore this burns out on ya.”
“I don't...I don't know nothin',” Ryan pleaded, tears in his eyes. “I don't man...I'm at the bottom o' the line, they don't tell me shit.”
“Then why they got ya stashed out here, Ryan, hmm?” Bobby pointed to the building. “Sweet owns this place an' everybody knows that.” He dropped his hand, the ash dangerously close once more. “So, why....are....you...here?”
Ryan let out a low sob, his eyes closed. “Don't...Please, Mercer, m' beggin' ya, I don't know nothin'...”
Bobby sighed, though he looked anything but disappointed. His head flared with fresh pains at the panicked screams that filled the air.
He smiled.
X
The phone rang on and on, shrill and tinny in his ear. Green dropped the receiver back onto the desktop phone with a sigh, a tension headache gathering strength in his temples. He frowned, holding his head in both hands. "The fuck are you up to?" he whispered.
"You know they say the first sign that you're losin' it is when you start talkin' to yourself, Boss," Detective Fowler slipped into the office, closing the door behind him with his shoe, a cocky grin on his face.
Green almost smiled. "Nah, it's when you start arguin' back with the voices that you hafta worry. Tell me you got me something on Jeremiah?"
"Jeremiah Williams, aged twenty-eight, juvenile record long as my arm, only one conviction as an adult, and well known partner to the ever mighty Robert Mercer," Fowler sat down in the wooden chair across from Green, a manilla folder in his fingers. "Until recently of course."
"Bobby's associate," Green leaned back in his chair. "You know something I don't?"
Fowler shrugged and that little smirk of his widened. "Maybe...C'mon, Green, you telling me you don't hear the gossip? Please. A guy like you, so...deep...in the street culture and you don't know about Jerry and Bobby?"
He glared at him. "Fowler, you're all over my last nerve. And no, I didn't hear nothin' about Jerry until I started hearin' everyone mentioning him since the shoot up with Mercer's place."
Fowler waved the folder and tossed it to him. "Not too long ago, Bobby let Jerry go. Officially, they split partnership. Unofficially, Bobby kicked his ass to the curb for his new piece of ass."
Green blinked, startled. "What...Jerry's not, I mean...with Bobby?"
"Jesus," Fowler laughed and shook his head. "No, no I mean after Bobby took in this kid, it wasn't long till Jerry got his dismissal. First thought I had was how could things change so fast, huh? Bobby runs this goddamned town, we can't touch him, can't make one charge stick, but suddenly his right hand man is kicked out? Smells rotten, hm?"
"I suppose it does," Green murmured. He opened the folder and skimmed through Jerry's file. "They met up in juvie, doesn't that figure. I swear...Bobby is a fucking one off. Never gonna see someone like him in the next life time, I tell you, Fowler, fuckin' Robin Hood in the streets."
Fowler rolled his eyes. "Uh huh, 'cept for the fact that he doesn't wear tights...that we know of..."
"You don't get it. They see him as a godfather, a...a superstar..."
"Ghetto superstar," Fowler snarked. "Yeah yeah, he's the best thing since Jesus to crawl outta the gutters. Stop kissing his ass, you're not on payroll with him."
"Shut the fuck up," Green snapped. He narrowed his eyes at him before lowering his gaze to the papers. "I say we pay Jeremiah a visit an' see why he fell into bad graces. And this kid...Jack, we need to know some shit, now. What the fuck kind of power does this guy have that Sweet was willing to risk his life over?"
Fowler's smirk faded a little. "You know, it's the weirdest goddamn thing...I ran the kid's name through our databases and nothing came up."
"So? Maybe he doesn't have a record."
"I dunno, it doesn't add up. I'm gonna run a check to see if he has a juvie file. Won't see shit in it, but if it comes up..."
Green closed the folder and eyed him levelly. "You got your contacts, I got mine. I say we get to it. This Jack, of no last name, of no fucking info didn't just pop up in the streets a few weeks ago. And Bobby...he's gonna rip this city apart, you know that, him and his fucking vengeance against Sweet. Stop this shit storm before he loses it completely."
Fowler raised one eyebrow, amused. "A lot like the godfather, ain't it?"
"Shut up."
X
Evan waited at the table, drumming his fingers absently. He watched the people around the diner, his patience beginning to wear thin. With a sigh, he took his phone out and checked the time, then his messages. None still. He frowned and resumed looking around.
"Sorry, man," Angel muttered to the person he bumped into as he walked up the aisle to the booth. "Evan..."
"Can't be on time t' save your life."
Angel flashed a tight grin at him. "You know it. What's with the call? On my way t' pick up Em. Bobby ain't takin' no chances with her while he's...busy."
Evan looked behind Angel, to the side and then at him. "Sit first."
"Fine," Angel slid into the booth and leaned in close. "Spill Evan..."
"I got a tip for Bobby, heard some shit about the kid," Evan spoke in low tones, looking away from Angel. "Tell him not to bother with houses."
Angel stared at him. "Y' shitting me? Who'd you hear from?"
Evan grimaced and flicked a glance at him. "Don't ask, I don't need their blood on m' hands, Angel."
"You want your own blood spilled? Bobby finds out ya knew 'bout Jack, he's gonna put you under the ice."
"No, I didn't know they was gonna take him," Evan hissed. He looked to the waitress wandering past them and waited a beat. He leaned in real close to Angel, the words fast and near whispered. "I didn't know, I jus' took a fuckin' guess. Sweet's usin' Jack for leverage, he knows Bobby's gone and flipped his shit for the kid, s' a distraction is all, he knows it, we all know it. Take Bobby out, an' he moves in, clear? Get Em some place safe, get y' self outta here, cause he's gonna take ev'ryone out if it means fuckin' Bobby over."
Angel swallowed. "That puny lil' fucker," he muttered under his breath.
“Tell Bobby what I said, leave my name outta it. I got my own family to protect.”
Angel rubbed a hand over his chin. “How many warehouses does Sweet got?”
X
