Martin’s eyes went wide and took the proffered weapon. “Wow, thanks!” He held it gently in his hand, inspecting it under the lantern’s fading light.
“You’ve used one before?”
“No, never.”
Nate tapped the barrel of the pistol with a finger. “You point that at who I tell you to, okay?”
Martin barked a nervous laugh. “Yeah, okay.” He squinted at it. “Is the safety on or off?”
Nate sighed. “Off. Just don’t shoot yourself with it.” You wouldn’t be much use to me if you did, he thought.
“Okay,” Martin said, and slid the pistol in the waistband of his pants. His soft fat rolls nearly enveloped it. He may not be much of a gunman, but he was the only one Nate had at the moment.
“I think it would be best if we stuck it out here until morning,” Nate said while Martin nodded in agreement. “Armed or not, it’s too crazy out there to go traipsing around. And your lantern would draw too much attention to us especially if someone wanted to take it.”
“We got guns,” Martin said, flush with his new responsibility. “They could try.”
“Hopefully that stupid apartment building doesn’t take this place down with it.”
“I don’t think so. It’s pretty far over there.”
They both sipped their beers. Nate considered practicing his new managerial style and brooch the subject of Martin’s sob story. He’d learn more about his underling and maybe get a better angle on how to keep him under control.
And if he didn’t like what he heard he could always shoot him.
“How did you get tangled up with the bear?” Nate asked.
“The bear? Oh, Unger. Yeah, that there was a real piece of work. And it actually wasn’t me that got tangled.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No, it was my brother. He became an associate to that Morse guy and started to run errands for him.”
“Poor bastard,” Nate said. He couldn’t imagine having that screw-up as a boss.
Martin nodded. “Had him running packets all over the city and into some really bad areas, too. Then after a while it progressed to stealing cars. My brother had a knack for that.”
“Yeah? He jack a lot of good stuff?”
“Uh-huh, you name it he could steal it. Alarms meant nothing to him. But it was when he stole a mercedes that something went wrong.”
An alarm bell rang off in Nate’s head. There was something familiar about this. “What happened? He get caught?”
“No,” Martin said, his face grim. “He stole a mercedes that was the wrong color Unger wanted. Black instead of grey.”
Now those alarm bells had turned into a full on klaxon. Nate swallowed his beer and waited for what he knew Martin would say next.
“Anyways, he brought this black mercedes into one of Unger’s shops and when Unger found out the color, he went ballistic. Hated it and was crazy mad over the fact it wasn’t grey. Unger actually made him take it back.”
“Take the car back? From where he stole it?”
“Yeah, and it was there he was pinched by the cops. Kid had no choice but to take it back or he might get clipped from not following an order. So the kid gets thrown in jail, waiting to go to trial. While he was in there, Unger roped him into the drug market he was trying to start up. The kid tried to do it for a while, but it’s rough in there and he couldn’t keep up with the other dealers.”
Martin went silent and Nate didn’t pry. He knew this tale by heart.
After another sip, Martin said, “So he received a small shipment of crap from the outside, stuffed up a visitor’s asshole. But before he could hide it, one of the other dealer’s robbed him. Beat him up really good, too.”
“And then your brother owed Unger for the missing drugs,” Nate stated, matter-of-factly. It wasn’t that he knew the details, it was just the natural progression of events in any criminal organization. You lose something the boss owns, you got to pay him back.
Martin nodded. “But before he could even start to try and pay Unger back, he got into a fight and was shanked. Bled out before anyone could help him. After that Unger said the debt was transferred to me. So he got me working for him for free, basically.”
Nate gave him a few moments before asking, “What was your brother’s name?”
“Ernie. Ernie Anway.”
Well, this is awkward, Nate thought. He knew about Ernie Anway’s death intimately, because he was the one who’d arranged it. Unger hated being owed by anyone, and if you took too long to pay, he had you eliminated as an example. Nate was under orders to have the guy killed, so he’d used his connections and got the job done.
Now he’s sharing a beer with the dead man’s brother. Nate took a sip to hide the smile that threatened to cross his face. This was just too funny. Now I got this guy on a leash and he’s completely unaware.
To keep from laughing, he decided to get Martin out of the room. He pointed at the lantern which was dimming more by the minute. “You wouldn’t happen to have more juice for this thing?”
Martin nodded, his face somber. “Sure. Brought a canister with me. Just a sec.”
Nate watched the fat man walk outside and dig into the wheel-barrel. Now he was conflicted. It was obvious Martin didn’t know of Nate’s connection to Ernie’s death, but that could change if he happened to talk to the wrong people. Then things would go from funny to fatal. Nate’s first instinct was survival, which meant eliminating Martin, here and now.
Ah, too bad, Nate thought as he stood, taking a final sip from his beer. When Martin came back, he’d shoot him. After he filled the lantern, of course.
“Uh, boss?” Martin said from outside.
Nate looked over at him. Martin stared off into the darkness then gave a worried glance over his shoulder to Nate.
Nate grabbed the lantern and hustled to the front door, the shotgun in his free hand.
Once outside, Martin pointed. “Someone is coming.”
Sure enough, several figures were walking across the parking lot toward the bar. Nate could see them because each one carried a flaming torch. As they got closer, he could also see they were armed, some with shotguns, others with automatic weapons.
Oh shit, Nate thought. It was too late to run and too late to draw on them. He’d have to wait it out and see what the deal was.
Martin gave Nate a terrified look. “Do you recognize them?”
Nate looked at the approaching men. He could make out details, but he didn’t know any of them. “No, do you?”
“Yeah,” Martin said, nervous. “The big one there with the beard.”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“That’s Orson.”
“So?”
Martin was trembling as he said, “Orson is Unger’s little brother.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Save them?” Wyatt said. The words hung between he and Ethan like wet laundry. “That can’t be it. How can I save anyone if I can’t do the same for myself?”
Ethan shrugged. “Well, that is a good question. And one I hope will be answered soon.”
“You don’t have the answer? You’re the asshole who said I had a job to do.” As much as Wyatt wanted to to doubt what Ethan was spewing, he felt deep down inside that his dead friend was right. That syrupy feeling returned.
“Hey, I’m just like anyone else, full of questions in search of answers. I can’t hold both ends of the rope.”
“What does that even mean?” Wyatt asked.
Ethan shook his head. “Look, Wyatt ol’buddy, I’d love to sit and chat with you some more, but you need to keep your head in the game. Sitting here in this truck will not bring you the answers you’re looking for.”
“Then where should I be?”