33. Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

It's been two days since I left Sev's house right after breakfast, and I've felt nothing less than strange. I can't help but wonder if he drugged me again, but the way I feel is different from all the other times. It's also distracting and annoying as hell.

I don't feel hungover. There's no headache. No dry mouth or weird taste in my mouth. I don't feel tired.

I just feel empty. Hollow. Like something is missing.

"You good?" Freddy asks.

"Absolutely," I answer automatically.

It's completely bullshit, but I'm not having a heart-to-heart with this guy. I hardly know him.

My phone dings, and it's a text from my uncle letting me know he still hasn't found anything and it's probably a dead end on his part. He doesn't have the means to look into things the way Banks does, but he has other stuff. Like the fact he's my father's brother and inherited a bunch of his shit. Family photographs and documents. Shit like that. I respond, thanking him. He did what he could, and that's that. I still have Banks and Reginald who could give me some good information.

I also have Sev, but I haven't asked him to elaborate on this yet because I don't want to ask the guy for a favor. It seems like he'll take that as me giving in to him, and that's not happening.

Freddy pulls up in front of the Quick Dry laundromat. They're one of the main businesses the Bellancas have ownership over because they're usually low key. Especially nowadays when they're hardly staying in business. Freddy shuts off the car and we both hop out. I grab my handy dandy hammer, and we walk in like we own the place.

The owner, Jimmy, spots us right away and his eyes widen. He quickly schools his features, and that's what gives him away. He gets up from his squeaky, stained grey rolling chair, holding his hands up. Freddy and I stop in front of the counter, not wanting to make a scene since there are a few people in here. Though, two big guys like us walking in here like this… it's obvious what's going on.

"I have it. I swear I do," he whisper-shouts.

"Oh yeah?" I say, twirling the hammer. We weren't trying to make a scene, but I'm also not going to hide why I'm here. "Where is it?"

"Just i-in the back." His eyes dart to the back room. "I'll go get it."

We both watch as he scurries that way, but don't stop him when he disappears into the back room.

"How much you wanna bet he's running?" Freddy asks, nudging me with his elbow.

"I'd bet my left nut," I grunt, taking a step back and pointing at the back room with my hammer. "Go that way in five seconds."

He nods and I turn toward the front door. The few people in here watch me with terrified looks, but I grin at them and keep going. I jog around the building, spotting the fucker running into the woods at the edge of the lot.

"Son of a bitch!" I curse, taking off in a run after him.

"Fucking knew it!" Freddy says once he's out the back door.

"He went into the woods." I point toward the spot I saw him go.

"Fucker is going to pay for making me run. I hate running," Freddy complains.

"Jimmy!" I call out. "It'll be better for you if you stop right now!"

"Yeah, turn yourself in!" Freddy adds with a huff.

I'm not a damn dog, so there's no way we're going to find this guy if these woods go on for a while. Which we soon find out they do. After searching around for twenty minutes, we give up. Pretty sure we're lost, but we attempt to make our way back to the lot.

"This fucking blows," Freddy says as we step out of the trees.

We make our way to the building and head inside, where we're both watched carefully by the same customers. They look concerned but aren't going to leave their laundry. We head into the back office, go through the safe, and grab whatever we can find. Which isn't much. A few stacks of one-dollar bills, a small bucket of quarters, and a pile of porn mags. Who the fuck uses those things anymore? We leave the porn behind.

"Remi is going to be so pissed," Freddy says when we get into the car.

Not for long, I think.

My plan for today, once I get home, is to figure out how to take him out. Reginald had Stone give me a few tips and pointers. I'd considered taking off right after I do it, since he said he'd wire me money, but taking off will only make me look guilty. And though most of us can't stand Remi, Reginald was right in saying he has some loyal people. Since I'm going to Cali to stay around people with kids, there's no way in fuck I can take that risk. Not when I have someone else on my ass too.

Part of me is still worried this whole thing is a set up. Reginald is known to be an honest man. If he wanted me dead, he'd just have me killed. What's the point in a set-up?

If this were something coming from Remi, I could see it. Maybe he's trying to gauge who is loyal to him and who isn't. But that's not how Reginald does things. He doesn't like games.

Remington likes games..

Holy shit, he and Sev really are the same person.

"I am so fucked," I mutter to myself. Thankfully Freddy doesn't hear it over the loud music playing.

When Freddy and I are finished with our runs, we grab food, and he drops me off at my truck. I find myself at a shitty bar not too far from my place, sitting in a dark corner while I figure shit out with Remi.

The easiest way to do this would be to take him out with a sniper rifle. Problem is I'm a shitty shot. I can't risk fucking this up. Next option would be to sneak into his house while he's sleeping. He does have guards, but I could figure out a way to get past them. Third option is to poison his ass, but that's so fucking lame.

Then I get an idea. A very interesting idea.

Maybe I don't have to do this at all. Maybe I can make it seem like it was me, take the cash, and if it comes back to bite me in the ass, I can show proof that it wasn't. This way if this is a set-up, I won't be the one who's caught.

But what proof can I get? That'll be the hardest part.

Or maybe it won't be. Maybe I don't need actual proof that I can hold in my hands, but something else…

"You want another beer?" I glance up at the waitress staring down at me. She looks like she would rather be getting a colonoscopy than asking me if I want another drink.

"Sure."

She goes to the bar and returns a moment later with another beer.

I drink it as I go over all my options again, and it seems like my best choice is to go with option D. All I have to do is talk him into it first. Sidle up a little. Play nice. Shouldn't be too difficult.

When I leave the bar, I pull out my cell to call him, but don't get the chance. I'm shoved into an alley by a large body. There's a familiar raspy chuckle right before something pierces my neck.

This fucker.