Chapter 168
There was a set of metal stairs that led up to the balcony. Every step they took caused them to groan, sometimes ending with a sharp noise that made Jacques question if this had been the best choice. He wanted to get back to his old man, and this was the fastest — and only — way he knew.
“I can’t keep my arms up like this,” Dick complained. The wound on his shoulder had to be in agony, which was exactly why Jacques had forced him to put his hands behind his head. Not only would it cause the guy pain, it would make it difficult for him to try anything stupid. Add to that the two feet of space he kept between them meant Dick would be a fool if he so much as thought of getting the upper hand.
Normally Jacques wasn’t this paranoid. The day was turning out to be anything but normal, which made him nervous. Sure, getting shot at from time to time was par for the course in his line of work, but this was so much more than a simple gun fight. Usually the ones he ended up in were the type where you ran the second an opportunity presented itself.
“Too bad. If you move your hands off your head, I’ll replace them with a bullet.”
They slowly made their way back to the lunchroom, where only the bodies of those they’d shot remained. Should I wait here for the old man, or bring Dick back to the garage…? He didn’t have to think on this for long, as Gilbert returned through one of the other doors. “Yo, old man,” Jacques greeting him with a nod. “I brought a friend.”
“Why didn’t you…” Gilbert trailed off when he caught sight of who was standing in the middle of the room. A deep frown creased his brows as his index finger began tapping the side of his gun. “Mr Clark. This is quite the surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
A sneer passed over Dick’s face. “Kill me and you won’t live to see the end of the week.”
Jacques was confused now. “You know him?” The way the old man was staring at Dick was making him nervous. They definitely knew each other. Was that good, or bad?
“The Clark family… They’re one of the five families that run the city from behind the scenes,” Gilbert explained, his frown somehow deepening. “We have — or had — a good working relationship with them. You could even say we’re business partners. It seems that’s no longer the case.”
Mr Clark’s sneer only grew, his lips curling until he looked more like a caricature. “And you thought something like that would keep me from taking you out?”
“Well…” Gilbert trailed off for a moment. “It definitely gives me ample reason to put a bullet in your brain, without worry about the consequences. You know as well as I do, that the moment you make a move against someone, you give them cause to retaliate. None of the other families will think twice about my killing you. In fact, I would hope they’d thank me for getting rid of you and your family.”
A laugh bubbled up from the man. “That’s not how this works. The world we live in isn’t so black and white. Those who work for me will come for you, your boss, his family… anyone and everyone you hold dear will be slaughtered.”
“Maybe,” Gilbert shrugged his shoulders a little. “But the other families won’t back them up, not after they learn about how you tried to stab us, your long time business partners, in the back for no apparent reason. Do you really think they’ll want anything to do with you and yours once word of your betrayal gets out? They may just help us hunt down every last one of the Clarks.”
“Tch,” Mr Clark looked away from Gilbert, focusing instead of Jacques. “Think you can protect that sweet mother of yours? She’ll be one of the first to go.”
Did the man really think threatening his mother would change anything? “By all means, give it a go,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to meet my ‘sweet mother’ in a dark alley at night. Hell, I might just video your people trying to grab her; it’ll make for a good laugh.” Jacques was always the first to admit his mother had a temper, one that made you want to stay on her good side. A good tongue lashing from her could leave you in the hospital.
“Well then, what are you waiting for? Kill me already. Get it over with.”
First he says we’ll regret it if we kill him. Now, he’s telling us to just do it? Jacques shook his head at Dick’s contradicting words.
“No,” Gilbert replied, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Mr Devreaux will decide what to do with you and, if he decides you need to die, then I expect he'll personally take care of the matter. I can assure you that, until then, we will be the best of hosts, Mr Clark.”
Mr Clark shot a glare at Gilbert, who didn’t blink. Instead the old man shot Dick in the foot. With a howl of pain, he dropped to his knees. “You bastard…!”
Crouching down, Gilbert watched the man struggle for a bit before speaking. “Where’s Vivian St Peters?”
“Fuck you.”
Gilbert grabbed the man’s blood soaked shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze.“Where is she?”
“You’ll never find her,” Mr Clark spat at him, face slowly turning red from the pain. Sweat began to bead on his face but, no matter how much pressure was applied to his wound, he refused to say anything else.
Deciding it wasn’t worth it to interrogate him here and now, Gilbert released Dick’s shoulder. Wiping the blood from his hand on their captive’s suit, he said, “Have it your way. Jacques, go find Horace and Delray. Mr Clark will need a lift to the Warehouse.”