BOOK 3 of the ORPHIC Series
CHURLISH
/ˈCHərliSH/
marked by a lack of civility.
~~~~~
Lucille 'Lucy' Opal Baker finds herself in the 21 century sporting the title of Aunt while lugging along h...
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"Don't trust everything you see. Even salt looks like sugar."
Hell's Kitchen, New York May, 2016
KLAUSE TAPPED HIS FINGER AGAINST the wheel, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to look back at Frank. The man returned his gaze, licking the blood off his lips as he leaned back against his seat, sitting with a sniper rifle sitting between his legs. He frowned and let his eyes shift back to the road.
The night rang with police sirens as they drove past cop cars, vehicles whirring past without a second glance. Stars glittered against the sky, soft music playing from the radio. Lucy turned the volume down as she glanced back at Frank.
"This isn't my territory." Lucy started. "Hell's Kitchen belongs to Wilson Fisk, and it's been that way because Henry Schaffer didn't give two shits about this area. We keep away because it's too much of a hassle. One of our weapons' dealers–Turke–sources from here, but even then, he does his own thing."
Frank cocked his head to the side as he watched her, listening.
"The Blacksmith contacted Klause with a shipment of over 100 million dollars worth of heroin. We don't know if he'll be there or not." She looked out the window, tapping her finger against her thigh. "If you're looking for him, there's a possibility he won't be at the docks."
Frank let out a breath, turning his head to look down at his hands. He didn't trust them–Lucy knew as much–but she was offering most of the information she had. She would, of course, tell him who exactly the Blacksmith is, if she wasn't after him herself.
It sounded weird when she thought it, but, she needed the man's limbs.
Because they were becoming antsy, Klause had mentioned, her so-called business partners were getting confident.
She was doing nothing, too peaceful; too quiet.
They were getting suspicious–except for Matteo, the sweet guy–and this was the perfect opportunity. She was going to utilize the corpse of Ray Schoonover, since he was clearly the scum of the earth anyway. She needed a piece of him and a letter with her signature–honestly, she found it disgusting, but that's what they did in movies and she really had nothing else to base this threat off of. They needed to understand that offering something without any desire to pay would blow their own heads off.
She really wasn't made for this, but hell, she hadn't been made to become a weapon either.
