Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
She pouts and leans back. “I have a feeling I’m going to be highly entertained.”
“Doubt it. Come on.” I push my door open and march toward the back entrance, feeling like a damn fool as my wife hurries to keep up.
She peppers me with questions. How many bays? How many trucks? How many employees? Frankly, I don’t even know half the answers, and I start making shit up just to keep her happy. I give her a brief tour, showing her the interior of the loading bay and the repairs station before walking her along the enormous exterior lot where most of the unused trucks are stored.
“How many cameras do you have out here?” she asks, sounding curious.
“Dozens. More now than before.”
“Why, did something happen?”
“We had an incident.” I glare at her as she opens her mouth to press me for details. “And I’m not going to talk about that anymore.”
She snaps her jaw shut and looks thoughtful. “I’m guessing it was serious. I can count about a dozen cameras from here.”
“Security’s always been tight for obvious reasons.”
“Still…” She trails off, tapping a fingernail to her chin. “You ever think about installing motion trackers?”
“Probably.” Except I don’t actually know. That’s Davide’s department. “We should head back inside.”
She’s got a million more comments as we head back into the office. I do my best to deflect, not sure why she’s so interested in the depot all of a sudden. As we head down the back hall, we nearly run straight into an old grizzled man wearing grease-stained jeans and a dark long-sleeve shirt. He’s got a bandana tied around his salt-and-pepper hair and he grunts when he spots us, coming up short.
“Stefano, I was looking for you.” Giorgio turns to Charlie with a deepening frown. “Is this that new tire guy I asked for? She seems a little small, no offense, dear, and maybe too pretty—”
“This is my wife,” I grunt at the foreman. “Charlie, meet Giorgio. He runs this place.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says, beaming happily.
Giorgio brightens, giving me a quick grin before shaking her hand. “Well, this is a nice surprise. I heard the old boss got hitched but never thought I’d see the famed wife here of all places. What brought you to our kingdom?”
“Curiosity and boredom, mostly. Stefano was just giving me a tour.”
Giorgio feigns exaggerated surprise. “Was he now? Here I thought he didn’t know where anything was in this place, considering the way he behaves.”
“Easy,” I grumble, annoyed.
“I actually noticed that. He hasn’t been the most helpful.”
“I wouldn’t mind showing you around a bit.” Giorgio glances at me. “I’ve got some spare time.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I’d be delighted.” Charlie steps toward him, not bothering to ask for my permission. “I was hoping you could show me around inside.”
“Happy to.” Giorgio grins at me. “I’ll bring her back soon.”
I watch them walk off with a sinking feeling.
Giorgio’s a good foreman. He keeps the place ticking over. Trucks come and go, and he makes sure all the usual jobs get done. Patching, repairing, loading, scheduling. The guy practically keeps the whole depot moving.
But he’s talkative. And I have a feeling Charlie’s going to eat him alive.
Ah, fuck, nothing I can do about it now.
I head back to my office and try to concentrate on the morning’s tasks. There’s the usual scheduling, inventory, and phone calls to clients I’m forced to deal with. I hate that shit more than anything. So much of my life years back was spent on the streets battling rival gangs and breaking knees. I was steeped in violence. But now my role in the Famiglia is slowly changing from that of a street-level thug to a goddamn paper pusher, and I hate it.
I feel worthless. I know what I do here in the depot matters, but that doesn’t help the soul-crushing boredom. My lower back aches, not because I spent the morning punching jaws and cracking skulls, but because I’ve been sitting for too goddamn long.
It’s pathetic. It’s worse than that—
It’s fucking mundane.
I didn’t join a crime family to feel like an average fuck. I joined for power, money, and glory.
Instead, I’m sitting at a desk, worrying about suppliers.
Yeah, I’m managing a multinational drug smuggling operation, but still.
That’s peanuts compared to the thrill of facing an opponent in the ring.
I’m practically prowling my office by the time I hear Charlie’s laughter down the hall. I throw my door open and find her heading toward me with Giorgio, both of them acting like they’re the oldest of friends.
“Uh-oh, the boss has that look again,” Giorgio says, his grin fading slightly.
“Isn’t that his average face?” Charlie squints at me. “Oh, you’re right, that’s his annoyed frown. You can tell by the eyes.”
“I’ve been saying that for years and nobody believes me. They all think the boss only has one look, and that’s pissed.”