There was a moment of silence before a long heavy sigh came from the other end, followed by a muttered, “Why do all these crazy people come to me? Do I have something written on my forehead?”
Who he attracted was his problem, but I was in a giving mood. “You have a gun. Take them out.”
“Ah, to live in a world where it was that simple.”
It was that simple. I didn’t see the problem. “Perhaps these people aren’t the crazy ones?”
It was a valid argument. Not everyone could handle the guilt that came with our work, and Snake had spent time in prison. I’d seen more formidable men crack from less.
“Have you ever found a girl tied up in your closet?”
“Yes,” I said.
Why was that odd?
“One that you didn’t put there,” he clarified.
“I grew up with Ava.” Finding random people throughout the house was a typical Saturday night. It took three days to find our nanny, who Ava declared the winner of hide and seek, despite not volunteering to play.
“So, your sister was always….” He paused for a fraction of a second, then said, “No, I don’t want to know. What did you call for?”
An enforcer wasn’t the same thing as a hitman. Snake fucked people up for a living. Sometimes that involved death. Often it didn’t. But we ran in similar circles. He may have heard something I hadn’t. Socializing wasn’t something I did. Most of my clients contacted me directly.
“I’m looking for someone?”
“A mark?” Snake asked.
“No, more like my competition.”
“So, your line of business.”
“Correct.”
“Okay, what’s the name? And calling card?”
“Lucky. He used to leave four-leaf clovers?”
He didn’t say anything for so long that I had to check to make sure I hadn’t lost the connection.
“You there?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Did you say, Lucky? What is he, a fucking leprechaun?”
Yeah, it wasn’t the best name for a hitman. I never got that. I didn’t see the point of picking an alias. People were going to call me what they wanted. Besides, I already had a name.
“I guess it’s better than Weasel Legionnaires.”
My brows knit. “Who?”
“Oh, it’s just a rival club.”
“Who the fuck would name their club Weasel Legionnaires?” The president of that club should be drawn and quartered.
“Listen, man, if you’d seen the shit I have….” Snake sighed, and I could picture him shaking his head. “Anyway, you got a real name?”
“Chad Brunswick.”
“Of course, his name is Chad. Let me guess. He’s a douche?”
