Page 52 of Wallflower

We have much to discuss.

Meeting?

Mr. Smythe:

Swing by at your earliest convenience.

Mr. Morgan:

Will do.

We actually don’t have anything to discuss but the drop point, since I assume he doesn’t want me to roll up to his front door with stolen civilians and drugs. But he doesn’t need to know that. I can small talk the shit out of him until I’m able to divert to see Rose.

I’m not into kidnapping, it just doesn’t float my boat. The people being “delivered” are employees from my small organization. Ones willing to put their lives on the line to help me dismantle this fucker’s empire from the inside. They’re far from helpless abducted tourists, all having been trained in self-defence and close-quarters hand-to-hand combat by me personally.

My team was firmly against the idea of taking people against their will, and offered themselves up instead. I could've never asked that of them. They’re my crew, and I’ve bonded with each of them.

I’m willing to stoop as low as necessary to see this plan through. However, my people didn’t want me to shoulder that burden alone, and offered a wealth of alternate ideas.

The drugs, well, they’re also mine. A little taste of the cleanest cut I have on-hand before it flows down the river with the dealers and runners who dilute it further. Stretching it as far as possible for maximum profit.

It’s been torture, waiting for him to contact me first while not being able to visit my new acquisition. This pent up feeling within me is liable to explode at any moment, and having someone on the receiving end who can’t tap out is just what I need. Rose has me so fucking tangled up, my cock isn’t working for anything but my hand, and even then I can’t fucking finish. I’ve never had this problem, and it’s a ticking bomb inside my chest. I’ve always been able to fuck out my tension, bleed the stress of the job—of life away with the sight of someone’s streaming tears.

That doesn’t appear to be the case anymore.

I have to safely release the sickness inside me before I act irrationally and blow this whole covert operation.

But I needed to know Maximus was waiting on me, eager for my product, and going to honour our agreement.

Now that I do…the real fun can begin.

Picking up my other burner phone, I shoot off a message to Kyle, my lifelong friend, second-in-command, and previous enforcer. Before he started wearing my old face, which essentially painted a large target on his chest as Maximus’s most wanted, Kyle was my muscle. Someone skipped out on a payment? He went in fists swinging, making sure the dues were collected. Now, he plays his role, masquerading as me, while I follow the plan to topple Maximus from his tower.

Rip:

Things are progressing.

Heading into the belly of the beast later.

Kyle:

Got it.

He was somewhat less than thrilled when informed about having to play dead with a pound of makeup on his face, but with just the right amount of convincing, he agreed that when the time comes, he’ll comply with no complaints.

The fucker already lives in a tropical paradise, why he insisted on a vacation elsewhere is beyond me.

Perhaps, when all is said and done, I should send my whole team on a lavish trip. They’ll have earned it if we pull this off.

Undoubtedly, they’ll need time to cool off once I reveal my plan all along has been to take over Maximus’s empire, not destroy it.

Whoever doesn’t bend the knee, will meet the reaper.

The phone rings in my hand. Thinking it’s Kyle, I answer without checking.

“Hey, Ky tells me you’re heading out soon?”

Bucky’s voice travels through the receiver. I didn’t expect to hear from him for another day or two based on the complexity of Max’s security system, but he’s my head of tech for a reason. “There’s no way you cracked the system that quick. That’s a miracle not even you could pull off.”