“We tell the bosses?”
“We tell them everything.”
“The permits.”
“The contractors.”
“Arben.”
“The newspaper.”
“My bugs?”
He grins.
“We'll leave out the part where you're apparently Batman.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
“Fuck you.”
“Love you too, brother.”
I shake my head and throw the truck back into gear.
“Volkov Towers it is.”
Because Joel Jonas made one fatal mistake.
He thought he was attacking a schoolteacher.
He thought he was attacking me.
He had no idea he was about to start a war with Sigma International Security.
And God help him when the Volkov Clan finds out some lowlife councilman threatened one of their kids' teachers.
Twenty-Four
Mary
I don't eat my lunch.
Not because I'm not hungry.
Because every time I pick up my fork, somebody stares at me.
The lunch ladies.
The parent volunteers.
The crossing guard who happened to stop in for coffee.
Even poor old Mr. Donnelly, the janitor.
Though he at least looks embarrassed when I catch him.
The article has spread.