𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 52

— Chapter 52 —
Entropy

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N O A H

"Edge," the stranger smiled wryly. "I've been looking forward to meeting you in person."

He stuck out his hand for me to shake.

The guy was shorter than me by a few inches, dressed in an all-black suit and tie. The only pop of color to his outfit was a bright pink handkerchief in his breast pocket. He looked about double my age, shown only through the few lines across his forehead and crow's feet by his coffee-colored eyes. His pale skin was flecked with skin spots by his neck and hands, and his hair appeared to be dyed a deep shade of black. There was something incredibly unnerving about his smile—I couldn't put my finger on it.

"You're Midas?" I asked flatly.

The gentleman put away his hand, his left eye twitching slightly.

"I see you've heard of me—no doubt from that pesky biker upstairs," he said, an annoyed look in his eyes. He waved his hand with disinterest. "Oh-well. It was about time the two of us met. We have a lot to talk about."

Chains stood behind me, his attention on the two men with guns strapped to their hips. A small section by the stage separated by ropes, the area was illuminated by red spotlights that outlined the leather seating and glass table—which was littered with cigars, despite the no-smoking signs.

I side-eyed the two bodyguards standing only a few feet away, mirroring Chains' resentment.

"And the guns?"

Midas tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Apologies. For my own protection, you see. You don't go into my line of business without forming a few enemies."

You don't say.

"And what line of business would that be?"

With amusement, he shrugged, "Contract work."

I couldn't help but scoff lightly at the answer. A contract criminal. Surprising, considering his... flashy personality. It wasn't often I came across people in his line of business. And it meant that he was being paid to be here—he was being paid to follow orders.

From who?

Midas added, "It's quite the cut-throat industry."

He went to put out one of his burning cigars, crushing the end on a messy ashtray.

"Enough," I said, drawing my focus to the topic at hand. "I was told you had information on—"

He cut me off before I could finish.

"I'd be more than happy to discuss business with you, my friend, but I feel there are too many ears listening," he pointed out. "And I think that we could both use a drink."

"He can't be serious," Chains scoffed, out of the old man's earshot.

Midas wiped his hands against his suit and gave me a simple glance. "Join me."

It was an order more than it was a request. He started to walk away from his table while the bodyguards quickly assumed to follow behind, only he passed them a humored grin.

"Please, gentlemen. There's no threat," he chuckled, tilting his head to me with wide eyes. "And besides... Edge here can't even fire a gun. Isn't that right?"