Puck’s Property by Monique Moreau
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Puck hadn’t been in this neighborhood since the last time he bought a baggie from a corner dealer. Eight years had passed, but some things never change. He poked his head around the corner of the building he was hiding behind and watched a disheveled man stumble toward the dealer, handing him cash with his shaking hand. To think there was a time he thought that shit was cool. The door of the decrepit bar across the street swung open, and Jiggins sauntered out. Didn’t even look up from his cell phone to check his surroundings. Dumb fuck.
Puck tucked his freezing hands into his pocket and followed Jiggins a few blocks, stopping and hiding each time Jiggins paused to chat with the various dealers and runners. He was obviously doing his rounds. So damn confident he was in his ’hood that he hadn’t brought a bodyguard with him.
There were a few abandoned, burnt-out shells of buildings ahead. Perfect. Jiggins kicked off the wall of the building he was leaning up against and strolled down the street, whistling a little tune. Puck quickened his pace and, as Jiggins passed one of the empty buildings, took out his switchblade, clicked it open, and ran up to the kid from behind.
Arm around his chest and sharp metal at the base of his throat, Puck growled, “Don’t say a fuckin’ word, or I will gut you like a hog.”
Jiggins gurgled against his knife, pressing his Adam’s apple against the gleaming blade. Puck dragged him over the toppled walls of the half-standing building, across debris and rubble, to the back of the burnt-out building. Throwing him down on the littered ground, he straddled Jiggins, knife back on his throat.
“What the—” Jiggins’s eyes bulged out. “Puck? The fuck you doin’, man?”
“Don’t fuckin’ act like we’re friends when you trashed my place.”
“What? I didn’t do shit!” he yelled.
But Puck had caught the flicker of his eyelids and the telltale twitch below his left eye. Liar. He didn’t have time for this shit.
“Motherfucker, don’t waste my time. Tell me who else besides you trashed my bar. Tell me that CO Cotman was in on it. Fuckin’ dare lie to me, and I’ll slit your throat and leave you to bleed to death.”
“Relax, relax, Puck,” Jiggins cooed. “I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
Puck’s gaze flittered around the building, but there was no one around. Pressing the blade closer until his skin was seconds from getting cut, he snapped, “I fuckin’ know you will. Spill already. Figured Kingpin blames me for the bust-up in jail, but what the fuck does Cotman have to do with anything?”
“Cotman works for us, yo. He’s got a hard-on for that little social-worker chick you’re bangin’. Got his panties in a twist about her.”
“This has nothing to do with her.”
“It does for him. He’s transferring to Green Haven to prep for Kingpin’s move once he’s convicted. Gonna test the waters. See what other COs might be into makin’ some side cash.” Jiggins swallowed around the blade glinting in the beams of light pouring down on them from the gaps in the crumbling roof. His eyes glided to the side and then snapped back to Puck. The fucker was holding out on him.
“What does he want with her?” Puck couldn’t say Ava’s name out loud to this dirty asshole.
“The fuck do I know.”
“What else is there? You’re holding out on me, Jiggins. I worked side by side with you for weeks. Lived, ate, and slept by you. Tell me fuckin’ everything.”
Jiggins started to struggle. Fuckin’ idiot. Puck pressed his knife until the skin was sliced, blood dripping down the sides of his throat.
“Fuck, man!” he shouted.
“Tell me!” Puck hissed.
“You’ve got the Romanians on your back.”
“The Ro—what?”
“The Romanians. The Lupu Clan make the Russian Bratva look like Mary Poppins, yo. They supply us from the City, and they sent one of their men up here to seek out any intel on the Squad.”
“The one who showed up at my bar. Nikki?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s a crazy fuck. Looks clean-cut in his suit, but he’s a nasty, cold-blooded killer.”
Scuffing against the rubble on the ground echoed in the vault of the four standing walls of the building. Puck glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to see Whistle working his way toward them. He’d instructed Whistle to cover him but hang back.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered.
“You good?”
“You might wanna hear this,” Puck suggested. Pulling his knife off Jiggins’s throat, he wiped the blood off on his jeans, closed the blade against his thigh, and pocketed it. Beads of sweat rolled down Jiggins’s temple, but Puck wasn’t worried. Jiggins was more than happy to spill every secret. That was the way of cowards.
Lowering his gun, he said, “Go on. Finish up.”
“I don’t know why the Romanian mafia is all up your asses. Kingpin doesn’t tell me everything, but the mafioso bastard visited Kingpin in jail.” Whistle’s eyes gleamed a brighter blue, and his jaw tightened. “He hasn’t been back. Either he was satisfied with what our men and Cotman did to your bar, or he’ll be back.”
“Cotman was involved in wrecking the bar? You sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” he muttered as he pulled himself to a sitting position and used the end of his shirt to clean up his throat.
Puck came to his feet. He gave Whistle a nod. “Guess it’s time to pay Cotman a little visit.”
※※※
Cutter, Kingdom, Whistle, and Puck had waited a long-ass time in the dark shadows in Dipshit’s house by the time they heard the lock on his front door disengage. The instant Dipshit turned on the light switch, his eyes flashed in shock. Dumbass that he was, he tried to escape, but Whistle, who was by the door, pounced on him. They dragged him down the stairs into his soundproof basement, which they’d already prepped for his arrival. Who the fuck had a soundproof basement anyway? God knows what the son of a bitch had done down there already. He was a sick fuck. It was time he was put down like the rabid dog he was.
“Ow!” shouted Whistle and backhanded Dipshit across the face, causing him to tumble down the last few steps. Sprawled on his back, Dipshit howled when Whistle straddled his chest. “You fuckin’ bite me, motherfucker? You wanna see how I bite back? I’ll fuckin’ tear your asshole to shreds.”
“Get off him,” muttered Cutter with a swat to Whistle’s head as he came down the stairs and passed by.
With a grunt, Whistle swung off Dipshit and hauled him to his feet. Towing him to a chair, Whistle shoved him down and secured his hands with rope.
Puck sauntered up to him and crouched until he was eye level with the prick. “Your life as you know it is over, motherfucker. We know you hooked up with Kingpin in Duchess County Jail, and now you have a transfer coming to Green Haven, don’t ya? To supply Kingpin, yeah?”
After his friendly little chat with Jiggins, he had done reconnaissance and caught Dipshit on video with more than one narco in the area.
Dipshit’s face contorted from denial to incredulity to anger.
“You can kiss those future plans goodbye, Dipshit,” drawled Puck.
“You don’t know nothin’,” the man spat out.
Puck rose to his feet and towered over him. “You gonna question what I do or don’t know? There’s one thing I know for sure. You’ve been following my woman around. The fuck is wrong with you? I ain’t gonna let that stand.”
Griping him by the throat, right beneath his chin, he pressed his thumb and forefinger inward. “I should end you for that sin alone.” His fingers cinched tighter. “You don’t follow her.” Tighter. “You don’t look at her.” Tighter still. “You don’t fucking think about her.”
Dipshit was struggling, writhing in his seat, choking for breath as Puck asphyxiated him. Another beat passed before Puck released his hold and stepped back, watching Dipshit gasp for air. Thrusting his head between his thighs, the man hacked and coughed and sucked in oxygen all at the same time.
Puck took a seat opposite him. Examining his nails, he said in a soothing voice, “I want you to know that Ava’s under my protection. Squad protection. This is as personal as it fuckin’ gets. You want to continue breathing, you’re gonna get your sorry ass out of this town.” His eyes flicked up and locked in on Dipshit’s. “Feel me?”
Dipshit’s eyes were bloodshot and bleeding fear. Nodding forcefully, he said, “Yeah, yeah, okay.”
“I mean now, asshole. Today. You pack your shit, and you drive away in that car. Tomorrow you call out sick, quit, do whatever you gotta do. We rule this town. Kingpin’s not gonna back you on this. He’s a bit player compared to us.”
“Okay, sure, whatever you want,” he stammered.
“Good,” said Puck, standing up. “Now. To make sure you don’t go back on your word, we’re gonna do a bit of work on you.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary. I hear you loud and clear.”
Staring him down, Puck nodded his head. Then he shook it. “Nah, I think it is. I think you’ve got to feel the pain of having put my woman in an uncomfortable situation.” Pulling out a pair of steel knuckles from his jacket, he fitted them over his fingers and flexed them. “Let’s get started.”
