Home > Maddox (The Italian Cartel #4)(46)

Maddox (The Italian Cartel #4)(46)
Author: Shandi Boyes

“Ten percent of it is yours. The rest needs to be delivered to this address.” Rocco hands me a device similar to the one showing Caidyn’s firebug skills. “The message will remain until nine o’clock. After that…” He makes an explosive noise with his lips.

“It will blow up?”

Rocco almost falls to the floor, laughing. “Nah, man. This isn’t Mission Impossible.” He continues chuckling while saying, “Smith will perform a magic trick.” Smith is the hacker I mentioned earlier. “No trace of that address will be found once he’s done.” He nudges his head to the tablet in my hand when he says ‘that.’ “So all you need to worry about is ensuring the goods are on site before each fight. Do that, then you won’t need to worry about Col.”

I don’t need to ask him what happens if I don’t.

“What are they supplying me with for this much money?”

Rocco gives me a look that verifies I don’t want him to answer my question. “The less you know, the less chance you’ll get prosecuted.” He jerks his head to the main room of the cabin. “Do you have a babysitter for her? I could pop over around six if need be.”

The riled expression on his face reveals he’s being playful. Unfortunately for him, I lost that side of myself when I killed a man. “I’ve got it sorted.”

I forcefully walk him to the door, my already-slow pace slowing even more when I spot the butt of a lit cigarette in the corner of my eye.

“Sniper,” Rocco says, all calm and collected. “Dimitri put one on the front and back entrances, and two on the road leading to the cabin.” He shrugs. “It’s a little obsessive, but you kinda got to be with Col.” He gallops down the front three steps of the cabin before tossing me a set of keys. “Take her. She’ll make you less suspicious.” He isn’t talking about Demi. He nudged his head to a 1987 Buick GNX. It’s been lowered and is painted matte black. “And she’s got a good size trunk for the goodies.”

Not speaking another word, Rocco signals to a man with a clover tattoo on his cheek to move out before they slide into the back of a single SUV. I wait for the taillights of his ride to sink into the abyss before shifting my eyes in the direction I saw the amber of a cigarette. I don’t like being in favor to Dimitri, but I prefer it over being in his father’s shit book.

After a few deep breaths, I pace back into the cabin. I’m not surprised to find Demi leaning in the doorjamb of the main bedroom. I’ve been gone longer than necessary for a glass of water, and she’s more clued in than people give her credit for.

“You okay?”

The worry etched on her face clears away when I jerk up my chin. “Was just getting some fresh air.”

She pushes off her feet while saying with a yawn, “I’ll join you.”

Her already wobbly strides shake even more when I shout, “No!” She’s wearing one of my shirts as a nightie. It shows way too much leg, and I’m far too jealous to let anyone see how delectable she looks in a STEM Academy shirt. “Both my lungs and veins are replenished, so how about we deplenish them?” Is deplenish even a word?

I shrug off my confusion when Demi asks, “What do you have in mind?”

With my grin as bright as the twinkle in her eyes, I wave my hand over a stack of board games on my right. “We could always play a board game.”

 

 

23

 

 

Maddox

 

 

Six weeks later…

 

 

* * *

 

Crack!

While lurching into a half-seated position, one of my hands claws at the blankets while the other endeavors to remove the vice-like grip around my neck. It’s been almost two months for fuck’s sake, an entire forty-eight days, yet I still wake up most mornings coated in sweat and struggling to breathe through the guilt suffocating me. I thought the guilt of ending a man’s life would have weakened by now. I assumed it would have up and left the instant I stood across from Col without a bullet being lodged into my brain. I had no fucking clue I’d still be grappling with remorse weeks later.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

Some people are born killers.

I am not one of those people.

I’ve played the actions that night in my head on repeat. Considering how the law works, my downfall that eventful day should have commenced right around the time my chest was lit up with two assault weapons.

That’s far from gospel.

I fucked up by believing Agent Moses was an honorable man.

I don’t have any proof to back up my claims, but I’m reasonably sure Agent Moses and Col are working together. Col called me a snitch while reminding me what happens to them if they run their tongues to the wrong people. As far as he was aware, I turned up that night to fight as requested. There was no snitching going on.

Well, there wasn’t.

I’ve shared a tale or two the past couple of weeks. It isn’t to who you’re anticipating. Agent Moses can burn in hell as far as I’m concerned. My thoughts on Dimitri Petretti aren’t much better, but I’d consider pissing on him if he was on fire. His father and Agent Moses wouldn’t be so lucky. I’d watch them both burn with a smile on my face.

While ‘working’ with Dimitri as part of our agreement, I’ve reached the conclusion he’s suspicious his father is coercing with a side of the law his family hasn’t sided with before, but since I’m eager to keep my dark side a secret, I’ve kept my stories on the slender side. Dimitri knows I fought for his father last month. He’s aware Demi was put up as collateral and that I showed my dislike of that by knocking his father the fuck out, but he has no clue the fights have a man stretched out of the ring in a body bag every single match. Will I update Dimitri on my knowledge once my conscience doesn’t feel so guilty? Probably not. Dimitri isn’t a good man. The shit I’m helping him get onto the streets is sure-fire proof of this. I may not be murdering men with my bare hands, but I’m sure the goods I am driving from town to town is slowly killing them.

The goons I deliver a bag of money to every Friday morning explicitly told me not to open the packages they load into the trunk of my car, but only a moron would act as if the brick-size packages are flour.

When I realized what I was distributing, I tried to back out of it. I made it all the way to the street that Dimitri’s mansion branches off when I was stopped in my tracks. It wasn’t two armed men with machine guns strapped to their chests slowing me down this time around. It was Agent Moses and a threat I’d spend the rest of my life behind bars if I didn’t continue following Dimitri’s orders.

He didn’t want to bust Dimitri with a bigger haul. He wanted to make sure his cut of the profits remained high because the more drugs I move for Dimitri, the bigger payouts law enforcement officers like Agent Moses receive to turn a blind eye.

I’m being fucked in the ass from both sides of the law, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

Upon noticing my breathing pattern regulating as it shifts from remorseful to angry, Demi’s hand moves from the bumps in my midsection to my face. “You good?” Her voice is groggy, revealing it is still early.

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