Page 14 of Scream For Me
“What, Frank?” I answer.
“S-sorry to disturb you, boss,” he replies, voice shaky. I already know where this is fucking going.
“You have ten seconds to tell me why you’re calling me when you’re supposed to be on a job.”
There’s an audible gulp down the phone.
“Tick-tock, Frank. You don’t want to know what happens after ten seconds.”
“I can’t find the location, sir. I’m at the marked point on the map, but there’s nothing here.” Panic laces his tone. “If you could double check the coordinates, I’m sure there’s been some kind of mista—”
“Frank, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were accusing me of an error?”
“No, no, sir. I’m sure there’s just been a mistake!” he replies quickly, the tone of his voice rising. I can smell his fear from two states away.
“Frank, I could go down into my bar right now and pick anyone out of the crowd, and they would be able to read a map. If I can find someone else who can read a map, what the fuck do I need you for?” I hear the frantic rustling of paper on the other end of the line. “Figure it out before my good nature runs out, Franklin.”
I disconnect the call and pocket my phone again. My cigarette has burned down to the filter, warming my fingers. I light another as I feel my shoulders stiffen with the tension threatening to return.
I never imagined myself being the boss who leads with fear, but that’s the only thing these bastards understand. So if I have to play the bad guy so that things get done around here, I’m happy to wear that hat. I just wish they would stop asking for absolutely fucking everything.
A knock on my office door has me releasing a frustrated breath, and I barely contain the growl that forms in my throat.
Can’t I get a fucking minute?
“Come in,” I grind out.
“Boss.” Gareth nods as he closes the door behind him. He looks… tired. I’ve been working him hard recently, but as my second-in-command, he knows the trials of the job. But as his friend, I can’t help but feel responsible for everything on his shoulders.
“Problem?”
“I just had to take care of a guy. He had too much to drink and was… causing a scene,” Gareth replies, taking a cigarette out of his own pack and lighting it. “I also found this in his pocket.” He reaches into his breast pocket and drops a small Ziplock bagof white powder on my desk. The sight of it makes my jaw clench and my fists tighten.
“I trust that it’s taken care of?” I enquire, a single brow raising.
Bridgeport is strictly a drug-free city, I made fucking sure of that. But it’s not uncommon for out-of-towners to bring in a personal stash. This guy just had the unfortunate luck of walking into my bar with it.
“Cain is on it,” Gareth replies, flicking a cylinder of ash into the glass ashtray.
I grunt in acknowledgment, leaning back in my chair as the faint hum of the city bleeds through the windows. Things are always easy with Gareth—no expectations, no ass-kissing, just Gareth and Elias. Who we were before this world was shoved down our throats.
Gareth moves to stand, stubbing out his cigarette on the way. “The band are about to start,” he says as he reaches the door. “Thought you should know,” he adds with a knowing grin.
My chin dips in a curt nod as he leaves. Fucker can always see right through me.
I wait a few minutes before turning off my computer monitor, leaving my office painted orange with the glow of the streetlights outside.
Walking downstairs, the scent of beer and sweat fills my senses, and I feel the music before I hear it. The buzz of the riff and the pounding of the drums finds its way into my chest. It’s like a feeling of coming home. Headstone wouldn’t be what it is today without the music. But I’mparticularlyinvested in the band currently occupying my stage.
Stepping out into the bar, my eyes immediately find the stage, and what I see makes my brow raise. I stop for a moment. Every one of them, apart from the vocalist, is wearing a dark face covering. I can’t deny it adds an air of mystery to the performance. They definitely sound professional. I had Gareth go and buy a whole new sound system yesterday. I told myself—and Gareth—it’s because we’re due an upgrade, but he knows as much as I do that it’s because it’ll be her playing from them. I want her to play through something only she has touched.
I don’t need to see her face to notice her. She’s hiding her features, but fuck, her body looks good. She’s wearing a band shirt with strategic rips along her ribs, giving everyone a glimpse of her soft, pale stomach. Her full breasts spill out over the shirt while her black leather pants hug her thick thighs.
My cock grows hard in my slacks, and I subtly adjust myself. Not that anyone in this room would notice. They’re all bewitched by the four people on stage in front of them. They can fucking play—they’re wasted in a bar like this.
I shove down the strange emotion that rises up at the thought of them playing anywhere but here.
And they’re mine.
