The Monarch

The Monarch Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: The Monarch Read Online Free PDF
Author: Jack Soren
beside him, smacking his palm with his cane like a 1920s cop rousting a speakeasy. By the door were two gorillas, bigger than Lew and Delroy put together. All of that was bad. But what was worse—­and more confusing—­was the leader of the little troop, who stood in front of them facing Lew. Lew looked down into his eyes, which seemed much darker than he remembered.
    â€œMickey King,” Lew said. “Strange way to thank me for saving your life.” Lew eased back and sat on the edge of a table. He had no idea what was going on here, but he was pretty sure taking a nonthreatening stance was mandatory to his breathing. The only thing he knew for sure was the murder he’d stopped earlier was no murder at all.
    â€œYou just keep runnin’ yo’ mouth, boy,” Delroy said. Mickey turned and looked at Delroy, who recoiled like he’d just touched a hot stove.
    â€œMy associates are a little upset. They were expecting a big payday for our little charade, today. Now they’re worried they won’t get it. Worried enough to want to take it out of you,” Mickey said. Lew watched Mickey pace as he spoke. Not the pace of a worried or anxious man, but the pace of a lecturer, explaining what was what in the world. Lew also noticed that Mickey seemed to have grown a Mexican accent.
    Lew had a few comments bubble up into his brain, but he figured if he wanted to stay healthy he’d better keep quiet a while longer. He looked at Delroy until Delroy looked away. That tiny victory aside, Lew thought he was starting to understand what was going on here. And if he was right, things were very bad indeed.
    â€œThe only reason you aren’t losing blood, ese , is because of your intent. You didn’t know who I was, or what was really happening, so you took a genuine risk when you stepped in. I’m touched.”
    â€œNot like there was any real danger, Mr. Colero,” Lew said, taking his shot. If he showed he was smart, he might have a chance. Miguel Colero—­known mostly as White Mike, thanks to his complexion and his affinity for coke—­had been in charge of a large chunk of the South Florida drug trade until he disappeared last fall. Lew knew this from his penchant of keeping an eye on the law enforcement activity in the Sunshine State—­especially Tallahassee. Everyone figured his underlings or his competition had whacked Colero, but with very few photos of him in existence, verification had apparently become impossible.
    â€œAnd apparently you can also put two and two together. Bravo, ese ,” Mickey said. “But until I’m outside of these walls, I’m still just Mickey King. Comprende? ”
    â€œ Sí ,” Lew said. He was far from out of trouble, but he was still standing and that was something, considering who he was standing in front of.
    Lew still had a lot of questions, like how White Mike had ended up in a Mississippi federal pen under an assumed name, or why he was working with nobodies to get himself out, but the only question that mattered was:
    â€œWhat’s the gig?”
    â€œAh, you see? You see? This is a survivor. A resourceful man adapting to his surroundings. He doesn’t whine when he’s in a bad situation, he finds the angle,” Mickey said, the last of it apparently directed at Delroy.
    â€œJust keepin’ it real,” Lew said. He sensed there was something spoiled between Mickey and Delroy and he didn’t particularly want to watch it go to hell right in front of him.
    â€œThe gig is act two. Delroy makes another attempt on Mickey King’s life, only this time he succeeds. Your job will be to make sure no more Good Samaritans stick their noses into our production. Simple, yes?”
    â€œAs pie,” Lew said. “So what happens after? Your coffin rolls on down the road until you pull a jack-­in-­the-­box?” Mickey didn’t respond, apparently disturbed that
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