Delilah's Tears

Chapter Ten

Chapter 10

"Nice to meet ya." Jose, aka Demitri, offers a strong hand covered in distinctive black tattoos. I wonder if they're real, because they'd be a dead give-away to anyone wanting to ID him later after this shit goes down.

"Same."

We're seated at the small conference table in Neil's office. Two other undercover goons hover near the coffee.

"Danny here is up to speed on Zimm. Anything new to report, Demitri?" Neil riffles though a file folder as he speaks. For a quick second it doesn't register that he means me when he says Danny. Having an alias is new to me. Better get used to it.

"He's getting antsy. Wants this deal to go down yesterday. He needs the influx of cash to pay his monthly bills." Jose chuckles, clearly a double-meaning intended.

"Ah, yes. The Abretti family is leaning on him again, eh?"

"Putting it nicely, yeah. Overheard him talking to Big Daddy Alfonso the other day. I believe there was discussion regarding Zimm's need for all his fingers."

Neil cocks his head in mock sympathy. "Poor Donnie. Playing with the big boys isn't all fun and games."

While this conversation is amusing, I'd prefer to get to it. My impatience is on display as my leg bounces up and down. "What does this mean? Are we setting up an initial meeting or not?"

Neil considers me for a moment, then leans forward. "In a hurry to jump into the trenches with your brand new toys, Danny Boy?"

I snort. "No. In a hurry to get this job started and finished. If Zimm has mob tentacles wrapped around his dick, I'd prefer not to spend too long in the same sandbox. You know me, Neil. Go in, get it done, get out. Wipe fingers clean."

Jose and Neil exchange meaningful glances. Great, they operate on a silent code. Finally Neil speaks up. "He's right. Dragging this out is a waste of time. The longer you and your pals over there spend with Zimm, the more danger you're all in. Jobs are stacking up here. Zimm's a bottom feeder whose destiny is written in cement blocks. Let's nail his ass and move on."

Jose nods agreement. The other two, meanwhile, have rejoined us, listening carefully to the conversation. I make a mental note to quiz Neil on them. That little prickle poking at the back of my neck right now has never steered me wrong. One or both of them isn't on the same page.

"Didn't catch your names. I'm Danny Russell, as I'm sure Neil has mentioned." I allow my gaze to burn hot, sending a "don't you dare fuck me over" message of my own. Two sets of inky black eyes glare back.

The guy to my left speaks up. "Jaxon. This is Arno. We're Jose's backup." Jaxon's the bigger, meaner looking of the two. My money's on Arno as the plant. Not quite as imposing as Jaxon, but still a big guy. "Heard you're Neil's new go-to. Welcome aboard." While Jaxon doesn't spare anything in the way of facial expressions or tics, an almost imperceptible flinch passes on Arno's. And, he knows I noticed it.

I return my attention to Neil and Jose. "What's the plan, then." Whatever it is, I'm amending it after Goon 1 and Goon 2 are out of sight. In this game, trust is everything. Goon 2? Nope. Don't trust him.

Neil clicks a series of buttons on a laptop, and an elaborate flow chart appears on a large screen. Between him and Jose, the well-crafted plan is explained. I slip a few glances at Jaxon and Arno, who are both absorbing every detail. As they should. Soak it in boys.

About an hour later, Jose and friends head out to meet up with Zimm.

"Who don't you trust?"

"Don't mince your words, Neil."