An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) Read Free

make her displeasure known, she wasn’t sure. Did the buyer hold the upper hand in these things or the seller? Too bad that wasn’t something she could Google.
    “Eberto’s gonna take over from here,” Crooked Hair informed her, eyes on his dirty boots. “I’m moving on.”
    “Very well,” she said instead of the “why” she was dying to ask. Could they know she wasn’t doing her part? But how? How could they possibly be aware that she bought their shit and did nothing with it but burn it to ashes?
    They don’t know anything. Relax.
    To his credit, at least attempting professionalism after the initial eye-rape, Eberto slowly stepped forward and offered his hand. A hand she was loath to shake but did anyway because it was expected of her. He released her immediately but continued to stare at her in a way that spooked the shit out of her. Not at her body anymore, but straight into her eyes. “You have the cash, chica ?” he asked.
    Striving to appear unaffected, she moved to the side and reached behind an exposed steel girder to bring out a plain black over-the-shoulder carrier bag. Her movements were slow and measured, careful. She held it tightly in her grip, not stupid enough to hand over $50,000 until the drugs were in her possession.
    Machete lifted the back of his shirt, and she heard rather than saw her bouncers tense as he went into the waist of his jeans. But all he did was pull out a package the size of a hardcover novel. She took it from him when he offered it to her.
    “What’s this?”
    “A goodwill gesture from my brother,” Eberto said, making her nerves stretch. His brother ? She was now dealing directly with the freaking drug lord’s immediate family?
    “Why is he extending it?” She fished some more, desperate to know what was going on here.
    “He wanted to let you know he appreciates the business and hopes to continue working with you. Maybe he thought to soften you up before you meet to discuss a new deal.” The smirk that pulled his full lips up showed no humor, and Sydney knew right then that something had changed. This wasn’t a goodwill gesture but a message of some sort. But because this wasn’t her world, she was clueless as to what it meant.
    Oh, Emily, what have I done? she wailed silently.
    Emily had been her best friend, and she was the reason Sydney was standing here praying she made it through this. They’d met in the hospital and had been sent to the same halfway house after giving birth to their babies. Emily had had a girl. After struggling for nearly a year to make ends meet, they’d eventually gotten jobs in the club Sydney now owned. They had helped each other by trading off; when one worked, the other babysat. Their children had grown up together, the four of them eventually sharing an apartment. Until last year, when everything had changed.
    After Sydney had bought Pant from the previous owner in the deal of a lifetime, Emily had become one of her full-time managers. Much to Sydney’s dismay, her friend had also started using drugs. She had excused herself to use the restroom before leaving work that last night, and Sydney, exhausted and ready for bed, had gotten tired of tapping her foot and had gone in to hurry her along. Emily had been slumped against the far wall, half-dressed, eyes staring straight ahead, an open baggie in her limp hand, spittle running off her chin.
    OD , the EMTs had said. Looks like she got some tainted product.
    Grief-stricken, Sydney hadn’t even begun funeral arrangements when another blow had landed. A gruff social worker had shown up to take Emily’s eleven-year-old daughter, Eleanor, away the morning following her mother’s death. Sydney would have done anything to have been able to keep the young girl with them, but the worker had told her they’d found Emily’s father and he wanted his daughter. Because Sydney wasn’t a blood relative, she wasn’t entitled to any more details and no further contact would be allowed.