The only way that’s going to happen is if they pry the Mona Lisa, Sakana, and Pepper St. Clair’s wet pussy out of my cold, dead hand.
Applause rings out across the crowded ballroom over some asshole at the podium pontificating about kids that can’t walk. I’m so sick of it. Why can’t we just cull the herd like animals in the wild? Survival of the fittest. Hell, cable could even make a reality show about it. We could stick all those little peckers out in the middle of a field and let the bears loose. If they can run, they can live.
I peek inside and see the Caldwell bastards sitting pretty at their table right up front where everyone can see them as they support their crippled brother. He’s the little one, although I could find something seriously wrong with every damn one of them. All I can see is a towhead in a tiny black suit. There’s an older blonde in the chair between Taryn and Lincoln.
“Now’s our chance,” I say, pointing toward the kitchen of the steakhouse. “No one’s back there except that dipshit, Claude. He won’t know what hit him. Or bit him in this case. All he’ll be able to do is scream les rongeur.”
“Did you call your people at the Board of Health, boss?” Charles asks, holding his furry burden high in the air. I try not to look at the damn thing because its sharp teeth give me the creeps. I can’t wait until it’s out of my sight and chewing through Carter Caldwell’s gourmet food.
“Do I look like I have stupid tattooed across my forehead?”
Charles chuckles and pokes Antonetti in the shoulder. “Ouch! What’d you do that for?” Antonetti snaps, rubbing the area.
“Would you two knuckleheads just get it done? I have to go back to my table before someone starts to miss me. It only takes so long even if you’re cutting a loaf. I slipped my contact a cool thousand, and he’s got someone pulling into the parking lot for a surprise inspection right now. Some lucky diner’s about to get a live present while munching on their porterhouse. I hope to God it’s a female customer. We’ll be able to hear the shrieks all the way into the ballroom.”
Charles looks up and questions me with his eyes, and I fucking don’t like it. No one on the payroll is getting paid to give me their worthless opinion. They’re paid to do a job, and they need to get at it before someone sees what we’re up to.
“Boss? I’m confused about why you’re going after Carter Caldwell? Isn’t it Nixon and Ford that you hate the most? You’re really fucking with the other brother as a cheap replacement.”
“You just need to shut the fuck up and let our little friend here loose in the restaurant at exactly the right time. I’m fucking with him because I can, and Pepper St. Clair is up for the same reality cooking show on The Food Network. What’s good for Pepper is good for me, right? Her celebrity status is going to flock patrons to Sakana, and that’s going to line my pockets. I love the smell of cheap money, don’t you?”
Charles laughs and makes a wavy motion with his free hand. “That Pepper, she’s a looker, ain’t she, boss? Another one that would look even better with a cock down her throat.”
“I’ll get to that after she’s selected for the show. Now get that fucking animal where it belongs!”
“We’re on it!” Antonetti gives a salute, and the two of them fade into the shadows. A smile tugs at my lips as I return to my table. The remainder of my evening is about to get much more enjoyable.
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Kickback by Colleen Charles ©2017 All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Colleen Charles loves reading and writing stories that entertain and sweep the reader away from their everyday life.
Kickback (Caldwell Brothers Book 3) Page 17
