Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“I don’t want pussy. I want guns, lots of them.”
He nodded slowly. “I got you covered. I have some guns in the trunk, ranging from handguns to automatic rifles. I would show you, but I figured we should get away from the prison first.”
My frown deepened. “Show them now.”
“Now?” Anthony sighed. “Alright then. Let’s check them out.”
We walked towards the back of the car.
With a click of some button in his hand and a smooth motion, Anthony lifted the trunk.
The first thing I noticed was that the stupid Santa decoration, was now stuck to the top of the trunk, flopping over as if still in that desperate attempt to escape its bizarre predicament.
I raised an eyebrow and pointed at the dangling Santa. “What’s that about?”
Anthony chuckled. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s for my mom. She loves this silly thing. Doesn’t laugh much anymore, you know? Little things like this. . .they help.”
For a moment, a flicker of something flashed, but I shoved it down.
Get back to it.
I put my view on the trunk.
Below the Santa decoration, an impressive array of firearms gleamed in the trunk’s confines—AK-47s, Glock 26s, Beretta 92Fs, Mac 11s, and many more, each in various shapes and sizes. Some were adorned with intricate engravings of viper snakes, their scales glinting menacingly, while others bore plain black matte finishes, their deadly purpose unadorned and unambiguous.
Anthony gazed at me. “Thoughts?”
I grabbed a Colt and Beretta. While they didn’t feel as good as my old guns—La Amante and Il Combattente—I still experienced a renewed sense of energy. Then, I picked up a bulletproof vest. “These will get the first job done, but after that, I go to my guy. But, not bad.”
“Not bad?” Anthony’s voice held a hint of defensiveness as he gestured toward the arsenal. “We have revolvers, shotguns, semi-automatics, and some high-end weaponry that you will never find on the black market.”
Holding the guns and vest, I glanced at the Santa again, and then back at the weapons. “My guy is better.”
Without another word, I turned and started to walk away, heading toward the car.
Anthony slammed the truck down and rushed over to the driver’s side. “Hey, I can grab that big envelope that you are carrying and put it in the back—”
“It stays with me, and when I go off without it. The envelope remains on the seat. You don’t touch it.” I glared at him. “You got that?”
Anthony parted his lips. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”
I pointed at him. “I can tell if this envelope has been touched. Don’t test me.”
“Okay, man.” He held his hands in the air. “I won’t touch it. Promise.”
Fucking right you won’t.
Holding the envelope closer to me, I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.
Anthony got inside, started the car, and pulled away from the prison. The engine hummed, a soft yet persistent sound.
“Oh yeah. I almost forgot.” Anthony pointed to the glove compartment. “You’ve got some presents from the Whisper.”
I put the vest, guns, and envelope down on my lap. “What?”
“Check and see.”
Frowning, I opened the glove compartment and pulled out a black wallet with my name carved on the leather. As I checked inside, I found several thousand dollar bills staring back at me.
Tucked in one of the pockets was a solid black Amex card.
Oh.
I pulled out the card, crafted from titanium. It had a substantial weight unlike typical plastic credit cards. On the front, the standard American Express logo was positioned in the top right corner, featuring the silver Centurion image against the black background.
It’s been five years since I’ve had one of these.
Anthony whistled. “You’re a lucky man. There’s no spending limit on one of those, and when the Whisper gives you that card, it means he’s paying.”
But he’s not doing it for free. My getting rid of Crimson Mob will up his profits by millions. He owes me.
The front of the card had my name discreetly embossed in gold. I tucked it in the wallet and then placed it all in my pocket.
Anthony chuckled. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
Silent, I leaned back and gazed through the rearview mirror.
The prison, with its towering walls and barbed wire, shrank into the distance, becoming just another part of the landscape.
I’m really free.
It was odd, but as the prison faded from view, a part of me felt like I was leaving behind more than just a physical place. Not home, but something. . .important.
For five years, that prison had been my world—my reality. Its harsh rules, the unyielding routines, the constant vigilance—these elements had shaped my days and nights.
They had hardened me, and now, as I sat in the car moving towards an uncertain future, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that a chapter of my life had irrevocably closed.
I gazed down at the envelope and thought of Zuri.