Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“What—what the hell, Trowley?” Zolt choked out, despite the firm arm pressing on his Adam’s apple. The items on display swirled around him when the yeti briefly cut off his air supply. As adrenaline kicked in and turned everything red, the silhouettes of the Jackals were a stark black color on the background of the open door.
“Someone roughed you up pretty bad,” Trowley said, pacing around the dark store. He stopped between Zolt and the fish tank, and with the uneven dreadlocks coming out of the shag at the top of his head, he looked like one of those deep sea predators that lured smaller fish straight between their needle-like teeth.
“Yeah... uh, I was in a bar fight,” Zolt said, painfully aware that the door to his home was unlocked, and if the Jackals chose to enter, they’d find Leo still sleeping soundly and unable to defend himself. Delivered to the Jackals on the platter of the mattress Zolt and Leo had made love on so many times. “You know how it is. Got drunk, said the wrong thing, and those three guys took offense. Hardly the first time—“
He stilled when Trowley looked straight at him, a smile pulling at his unshaven face. “That’s not really what happened, is it?”
The cockroaches had nested in Zolt’s gut and were now crawling around, eating their way through his flesh as the Jackals dispersed, staring at items he suspected would leave his stock without compensation. But that was fine. He did have money stashed all around the property, and robbery, while humiliating, wouldn’t leave all that much of a dent in his savings. They could take all of the jewelry, and guns, and even the freaking antique shoes worth several thousand dollars, as long as they kept away from his apartment. From Leo.
“What do you mean?” Zolt asked, but with some of Trowley’s men already looking his way, he knew the answer to his question even before the dirtbag approached and slammed his fist against Zolt’s breastbone so hard that for a moment if felt like he might never breathe again.
“You got roughed up by the Smokeys, didn’t you? They found out you were ours and took the drugs to undercut us!”
Zolt stared back at him, and the blood pumping through his bloodstream resonated in his head in loud, frantic beating. “What? No.”
One of the Jackals stepped closer, his fist hitting Zolt’s stomach so hard his legs gave up, leaving him at the mercy of Vince’s bruising force. He choked when the arm tightened around his neck to keep him standing, but the hold was gone before darkness could have consumed Zolt’s mind.
His knees hit the floor first, and he managed to break his fall with both arms. With his entire body still hurting from last night’s beating, he was like an injured deer among seven coyotes playing with their food.
Trowley sighed, and his dusty boots approached Zolt at a slow pace. “I don’t need to hear the truth about last night. I want results, and from now on, you will do exactly as I say.”
There was a stain at the front of the thick sole, which looked suspiciously like dried shit, but Zolt stayed put, staring at it without a word. This was not a moment for pride.
“Okay, so… what do you want? If you need guns, take all the ones I have in the shop. I’ll register them as stolen.”
Behind him, Vince released a humming laugh. “So they can be found at ours? Don’t think so.”
“No, Zolt. You’ll get us something clean. Something from beyond the border. Are you sure you don't have those drugs you promised us?” Trowley asked, tapping the underside of Zolt’s chin with the dirty shoe. From the floor, even Trowley’s flea-bait hair looked imposing.
Zolt choked up, his thoughts going to the neatly packaged cargo hidden in the antique television set in his apartment. One of the Jackals was trying out the high-end mobility scooter, but what if the vermin moved to search for drugs beyond the pawn shop doors? He could give them up, but that would have meant he’d lied five minutes ago. And he would have made the Smokeys his enemies for life. Not to mention that once he led the Jackals into his living room, they would be only one doorway from a sleeping Leo. Too much of a risk.
“I told you I never got them in the end.”
Trowley extended his hand, and one of his men handed him a baseball bat. Swiping his gaze over Zolt in a way that had him freeze, Trowley stepped back, spiraling as if he wanted to do something similar to a hammer throw, but when his dreadlocks tossed through the air all too close to the fish tank, Zolt cried out.
Too late.
The glass broke with a shriek, and all forty gallons of water flooded the floor, carrying movable decor. And the fish.