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I didn't know what happened, but I was probably gonna wind up in a hole ... or digging a hole, and I wouldn't know which until it was too late to do anything about it. If there was any good news at all it was that maybe Bert and the Don were coming to their senses.

"Problems?" Jimmy had caught the look on my face.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "You guys take care of my fiancé get him drunk, get him laid." Jimmy nodded. "And make sure he wears a rubber!"

"Sure, Rache." Jimmy grinned and left the room.

I managed to scrounge up a decent dress, black and strapless, put my .380 on my thigh, my hushpuppy in my purse, and fixed my face. A sit down was a serious thing, like diplomacy for Wise guys, and I always wanted to look good for Bert. That man ... I checked my pad, it was clean, so at least my period had stopped. Four days was short, but I wasn't complaining. I called Tony the Barber and told him I wanted that kid I was with earlier to meet me at the Pony, a little joint a couple block's from Mixie's in the Queens.

"Make sure he's dressed right, too. Like a fuckin' date," I warned him and Tony just laughed.

I was stressing a little. Partly from PMS, partly from moving, a little maybe because it was just really sinking in that I was getting married in two days, and mostly because I was sure I was gonna get whacked. I had that little paranoid voice in my head telling me that Bert was thinking I'd been wrong about Vic, maybe on purpose, because I hated the guy. I imagined Vic talking to Bert, or the Don maybe, telling them that it was really me making the move. That I'd just covered my tracks, blamed it on Vic, and was just waiting to try something else. It sounded crazy and made no real sense, but it frightened me a little too because it was the things that didn't make sense that got you killed in this business.

But there was nothing I could do about that.

I picked up Tommy and he looked good. He got into the car and smiled at me. "Hi, Rache ... Wow! You look great!"

"Thanks." I smiled back at him.

"I, uh ... didn't have a lot of time, but I got you this." I noticed for the first time that he was carrying a single long stemmed rose.

"What's that for?" I laughed.

"Huh?" He looked confused. "Tony, he said, um ... we were going out, on a date."

I rolled my eyes, wondering how the wops ever got off fucking Sicily, we were so stupid sometimes. "I told Tony to dress you like we're going on a date." I looked at him. "This is business."

"Oh." He looked suddenly very sad. "But, uh ... you like the rose anyways, right?"

I stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to lean over. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to mine. "It's very sweet, Tommy," I breathed and then we kissed deeply until someone behind us honked impatiently.

"Mmmm..." Tommy was all smiles again. Goddamn! That boy was sexy.

"Maybe after business we can do something about that rose, okay?" I rubbed his leg and pulled up in front of Mixie's, a little club that Vic owned. "Right now you keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. You loaded?"

"Always." He patted the .38 in a shoulder holster.

"Good, leave it in there." I took a deep breath and got out, walking into the club with Tommy close behind.

"Rache ... Hey, Rache ... Yo! Rache ... Rachael, how ya doin? ... Hi Rache..." A half dozen people greeted me as I walked through the club.

The place was lively and there were a lot of customers, mostly civilians, but quite a few buttons too, out with their girlfriends. I walked through to the back and up a curving stairway to Vic's office. He had a guy standing outside who knocked for me and let me in, leaving Tommy to wait outside.

I smiled and walked in to give the rising Bert a hug. I let out the breath I'd been holding. If I was gonna be whacked it would have happened as soon as I walked through the door. I never even would have known what was going on, I'd just be dead.

"Rachael, nice to see you again." Bert kissed my cheeks and grabbed my ass affectionately.

"Always good to see you, Mr. Capris." I smiled.

"Mr. Capris, is it?" Bert laughed. "She thought she was getting clipped!"

"That's cute," Vic said, smiling beneath his cold, unfriendly eyes.

"Vic ... Nice place you got here." I shook hands with him.

"It pays good," Vic the Prick shrugged and we all sat down.

There were two guys against the wall, Ritchie and someone else, both Bert's. The guy outside would have to be Vic's.

"So..." I looked at Bert expectantly.

But it was Vic who did the talking. "Danny Pats did Carmine. I got the word from his gun, a contractor named Riggio. He said Danny paid him two grand for the job, no questions."

"I know Riggio." I didn't add that I thought he was a dirtbag who'd do his own mother for a dime. "Why'd Danny go out of town?" Riggio was from Pittsburgh. "Why not just do it himself?"

"Hmmm ... Why?" Bert looked at me. "That's what we were wondering as well."

"And why Danny ordered the hit the same day you found Frankie and the coke." Vic stared at me.

I stared back. Everything was pointing to Danny now. Carmine had been Danny's boy anyway, so they set up the deal to steal a million dollars worth of coke. It falls through and Danny cuts the only tie between himself and the job. Carmine's dead, he points his finger at Vic, Vic points at him, and nobody can prove one way or the other. The only thing that really bothered me was Riggio. Why was he still breathing? Unless...

"Where Riggio?" I asked, getting that feeling as I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder.

"Back in Pittsburgh," Vic nodded. "He got the word off the street that some people were interested in Carmine so he figured coming clean was safer than forgetting about it."

"He talk to you Bert?" I looked at the old man.

"He called me," Vic said, giving Bert a quick glance and then boring into my eyes with his, daring me to say what was on my mind.

"Riggio called you." I shook my head slightly. "Now why would he do that?"

"What's a matter? You pissed cause I got a little something before you, Rache?" He looked like a shark. "Or maybe cause Riggio ain't done talking yet?"

That was the threat, why Riggio wasn't breathing mud at the bottom of the Hudson. Maybe Danny was the bad guy, maybe he had some help from me, and I knew that ratfuck from Pittsburgh would sing any tune that paid.

"You know, Vic, you never know when to shut the fuck up." I slipped my hand into the slit of my skirt, down between my thighs. It was getting tense in that little room.

"I know better than you," he gloated. Oh yeah! He had a real surprise waiting for me; I could see it in his eyes. "One of these days, Princess..."

"Alright." Bert held up his hand, though I sensed he was enjoying this little contest. "We're all friends here."

"You gotta watch that pet of yours, Bert, she's liable to get hit by a car crossing the street." Vic chuckled.

Oh, the subtle wit of Vic the Prick. So that's the way he wanted it. No matter what else happened at this meeting, it was clear that I was going to have to bury the bastard before he buried me. Bert wasn't stopping it either, since he probably figured it had already gone too far anyway. At least now I knew. Vic really was pretty stupid.

"Maybe I should pay Riggio a little visit." I was talking to Bert, but staring at Vic. "Just to get his story straight."

"Maybe you should get on your fuckin' knees and..."

"You ain't the Don yet, you piece of shit!" I stood up just as Vic started reaching in his desk and I had my .380 pointed at his face, freezing him. "Give me the word, Bert."

"That's what I love about you, Rache." Bert was laughing. "You always say what's on your mind."

Vic was staring at me with a look of pure hatred in his eyes. "Bert?" His voice was uncertain suddenly. "You gonna let the bitch get away with this? She's in it too, pullin' the strings, her and Danny Pats..."

"Ritchie." Bert nodded with his head and the button walked over, reaching slowly in front of Vic, taking the pistol out of the drawer and handing it to Bert. "I talked to Mr. Riggio, Vic, and he told me the same thing."

Vic exhaled then and I thought I saw a little smile creep across his malicious face.

"Until Ritchie put his hand in the garbage disposal." Vic looked at Bert then, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Then he told me it was you, not Danny, and you gave him an extra grand just to finger Rachael."

"No, Bert ... Mr. Capris, look he set me up here..."

Bert waved at him to shut up. "I figured you'd want to be here, Rache. Kind of an early wedding present." The old man winked at me. "We're still on for tomorrow, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Bert."

"Good." He stood up, handing the pistol to Ritchie and kissing me on the cheek. He smiled. "Good bye, Vic." The Consigliore walked across the room, his two guys following.

Ritchie paused briefly, handing me Vic's gun and giving me a little smile of his own. "See you tomorrow night, Rachael." He was cute.

"Send Tommy in on your way out, would ya, Ritchie?" He nodded and I knew they'd take care of Vic's boy outside too.

Tommy stepped in and looked at me holding two guns on the Boss of Queens. "Holy shit! That was Mr. Capris!" Tommy grinned at me. "And that's..."

"Vic the Prick," I answered drolly, handing him Vic's gun. "If he moves shoot him."

"Rachael, look..." Vic started saying. "I know we never really hit it off, but I swear, this is all a misunderstanding..."

I was nodding my head as I screwed the silencer onto the hushpuppy. "Say hello to Carmine for me..." I was going to enjoy this, " ... you fuckin' prick."

THUP ... THUP ... THUP ... THUP

I shot him four times in the chest with the little .22 and then walked to where Vic sat behind his desk. The man's breathing was labored and raspy as blood spilled out of his lungs. He looked at me dumbly and I pushed the gun into his open mouth and pulled the trigger...

THUP!

... angling upward so the bullet went into his brain, rattling around in his cranium without exiting.

"Goddamn," Tommy breathed as I took my gun apart and put it back in my purse. I looked at him and smiled. "What do we do now?" he asked.

I straightened my dress and checked myself in a mirror hanging on the wall. "Well, first we go eat, and then I feel like dancing." I glanced at my date. "You do know how to dance, right?"

"Oh! Hell yeah!" He grinned. "I'm from Brooklyn!"

"And then, if you dance real good, we're going to fuck until we can't see straight." I jerked my head at the door.

"Oh shit! Yeah, Rache!" He fairly ran to open the door for me.

We went to dinner at the New York Strip, which was a first class restaurant just off Broadway. Tommy kept me entertained, talking about his old neighborhood mostly, which made it easy for me to relax. Poor Vic, I couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. He should have whacked Riggio the first chance he got and just let things play out. But he had to get cute and push it. It was going to be trouble, clipping a Boss, some of his boys wouldn't take it well. He had a kid running around too, an illegitimate bastard who was just out of high school. He'd need some watching.

I didn't know who the Don was going to give Queens to either. It was never good leaving a hole, one of the other Families was bound to move and take up the slack. But Bert knew enough to deal with that. I figured he'd already lined someone up before we'd even sat down with Vic. Probably since Monday, when I'd told the old man that I was sure Vic was dirty. I'd never been wrong, that was why I got the calls. I still needed to sit down with Danny. He and I got along okay, but he didn't trust me. I didn't know if it was because I was a woman or too damn young, or both, but he'd made it plain he thought I had no business being in the Family. I needed to straighten him out.

"You got a girlfriend, Tommy?" I asked him later, we were going to a dance club in Manhattan. I'd decided I'd feel safer on my own turf. It was new place, mostly Goth/Techno with a stage. Swan was playing tonight, Billy Corgan's new band, and the line outside was ridiculous. We walked past everyone, moving toward the velvet ropes.

"Yeah, I gotta girl." Tommy had his arm around me. "But I forget her name." He nuzzled my ear and I laughed.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Some guy in a double breasted suit with his girlfriend, dressed in diamonds, gave us a look as we pushed by. We ignored them.

"Bitch!" the girl said.

We were almost at the doors, maybe ten yards further down the sidewalk, and I sighed as Tommy turned around. I stood there, wondering why boys had to be boys sometimes. But it would be interesting to see Tommy trying to impress me.

"Keep it in your pants, Tommy," was the only advice I gave him.

Tommy smiled at me and then turned to the couple. "Excuse me?" Tommy was about 5'10" and real pretty, like I said before. The other guy was a couple inches taller, blonde and blue, with a lot of jewelry. I figured him for somebody's kid and he had his own girlfriend to impress too. One of those clenched teeth WASP bitches, probably from Vassar.

"There's a line pal." The guy looked down at Tommy and put his arm protectively around his girl.

Tommy ignored the guy and stared at the woman. She was beautiful, in an aristocratic sort of way, like she might have married a Kennedy ... if there were any available. "What the fuck did you say?" he asked her.

"What?" She looked at Tommy in disbelief.

"Say it again, cunt." Tommy glared at her.

"You better back off, man." The guy started moving his girl behind him.

"Say it again." The girl was hiding now, barely peeking around her boyfriend. "Go on," Tommy dared, "just say it, slut."

"Look, man..." The guy gave Tommy a little push and that was all it took.

Tommy hit him in the jaw, snapping the guy's head back and then gave him a good hard shot to the solar plexus, doubling the guy over. Tommy brought his knee up into blondie's nose, while he pulled the poor guy's head down. There was a loud, sickening crunch as some bones cracked and the guy dropped to the sidewalk. It had taken all of three seconds, probably less.

The girl stood there, staring at the lump her boyfriend had become, and Tommy dusted himself off. "I see you in Manhattan again and you're fucking dead." Tommy spit on the guy and kicked him in the head for luck.

"Oh my God! Jamie!" The girl knelt down and her boyfriend just groaned.

Tommy looked at the girl and shook his head, turning back to put his arm around me. "They probably live here, Tommy." I grinned at my new knight in shining armor.

"Then they better fuckin' move." He chuckled, giving me a little squeeze as we walked up to the doormen, two big guys dressed sharp, and another big guy holding a clipboard.

"Name?" The guy with the clipboard sounded disinterested, like he didn't really believe we should have been bothering him. But then he had to deal with a couple hundred people trying to get past him every night.

"Tommy Figaro." He smiled.

The guy ran his finger down the page, flipping it over. "Nope."

"No?" Tommy looked shocked. "You know who I am?"

The other two guys looked over, wondering if there was going to be trouble.

"No. You're gonna have to wait, sir."

"You know who I work for?" Tommy was distinctly unhappy and I was getting bored. "Tony the Barber? Ring any bells, jack off?"

"He ain't on the list either. Now beat it, punk, before you embarrass yourself."

"He works for me." I rolled my eyes. "Rachael Rossi."

One of the other guys looked at me.

"So?" he shrugged and I narrowed my eyes. This guy with the clipboard wasn't gonna last long. Thankfully, one of his friends knew the deal.

"Miss Rossi, it's a pleasure. I'm Dave and I apologize, we, uh ... didn't know you were coming." The guy who knew my name stepped forward quickly, unclipping the rope and smiling nervously. "Please, come this way. I'll show you to your table. We're really very sorry, Miss Rossi. Carl is new, it won't happen again."

Carl, the guy with the clipboard, didn't have a clue what the fuss was about. Tommy looked a little downcast, so I put my arm through his and pulled him tight as we entered.

"Don't take it so hard, Tommy, the guy's new!" I giggled, but I knew he was embarrassed, not getting respect in front of his new boss like that.

All the good clubs in Manhattan paid respect. It kept their deliveries on time, the cops off their backs, pimps and dealers stayed a respectable distance, and the place didn't burn down. It was good insurance and a place like this put up $1500 a week or more. Nobody opened a joint in Manhattan without talking to me, or Sonny Sabo, who worked for the Bardino Family. We shared Manhattan in an uneasy sort of truce, the lines had been laid out after the last real war and for the most part we stuck to them.

I came to a decision before we even sat down. "I want to see Mr. Loris first," I told our escort, having to shout above the music.

Dave nodded, taking us behind a large bar and into a hallway, then up some stairs, pausing to knock at a door marked 'Manager's Office' and beneath that, 'Peter Loris' in gold lettering. Dave opened the door without waiting for a reply and let us in. It was quiet in the office, spacious with a large picture window looking out over the stage and the dance floor. Another wall had several TV monitors, showing the sidewalk outside the entrance, the bar, the crowd, and the stairway we'd just walked up.

"Rachael." Loris was already standing up and smiling, walking over to shake my hand. There was a stunning young woman sitting on a red leather loveseat in front of the big desk, she looked at us and started powdering her nose.

"Peter," I smiled back. "This is my associate, Tommy Figaro." He shook Tommy's hand too, exchanging pleasantries.

Dave leaned against the closed door, frowning. He was probably thinking I was going to clip somebody, probably Carl, and the thought almost made me laugh.

"Come, please, sit down. Would you like some champagne?" Loris looked at us and waved at the girl. "Amy, get some champagne. Dave, help her." He watched the girl get up reluctantly, snapping her little compact closed, and Dave escorted her out of the room, closing it behind them. "Now, what can I do for you, Rache?"

"Tommy's going to be collecting from now on. You got troubles, you go through him." I could feel Tommy's eyes on me, the kid was surprised, but I ignored it for the moment.

"Okay, I'll get the word out." Loris nodded, glancing at my boy.

"Give him a number, Tommy."

"Here." Tommy had his own business cards and I suppressed a giggle. "My office, home, and cel are on there. I'll be around every Tuesday, 1pm sharp, you run late and it's eight points off the top."

"We're not late," Loris promised.

"You have any problems Peter?" I asked him.

"Yeah, matter of fact, I was meaning to call you. We've been trying to get some parking, get our valet service up. There's a lot around back, maybe you saw it? A dry cleaning place. I made 'em some offers, you know, and I thought we had a deal. Now some guy named Joey Meese... ?" Loris dug in a little wallet and found a card. "Yeah, Joseph Meese. A Jew lawyer. He's working the deal and every fucking time I get that cocksucker on the phone the price goes up."

He handed the card to Tommy.

"I can handle this, Mr. Loris," Tommy assured both of us as he pocketed the card.

"Thanks, Tommy." Loris nodded. "Other than that ... Hell, business is good."

"Good. Now, I think it's time for some dancing." I stood up and the two men did the same. "Always nice to see you, Peter."

"All mine, Rache." He walked us to the door.

"Oh, Mr. Loris..." Tommy turned around. "One thing. Next time I come here, if my name isn't on the list..."

"Whoa! Say no more, it's done..." Loris held up his hands. "My regular guy is out sick, you know him, Rache. Eddie Summers?" I nodded, I knew Eddie. He used to break legs for Charlie. "That new guy, Carl..." Peter shook his head. "He's from Coney Island, doesn't know shit about shit. I'll straighten him up."

"Great." Tommy smiled and shook Peter's hand. "I feel better already."

We left Peter's office in a good mood, which doesn't always happen in our line of work.

"You giving me this joint, Rache?" Tommy was all smiles as we made our way back to the club proper.

"See how you do with it," I agreed as we checked Tommy's jacket and my purse. If Tommy did good, and this place would be a cakewalk, I could move him up quickly. He seemed bright enough, eager too.

"I won't let you down. Really, all I ever wanted was to work for you," he said. "I'll check the books next Tuesday and..."

"Tommy..." I looked at him.

"Yeah, Rache?"

"Shut up and take me dancing." He grinned and I giggled, finally feeling good as we found ourselves in the middle of a hundred other people, all moving to the loud beat pressing against us, driving us to move. I hadn't been dancing in ages and I loved it.

Tommy was a good dancer too, and he liked it close, which I didn't mind one bit. All the excitement at Vic's had gotten me warm, the way it always does, and I pressed my back against Tommy's chest, working my ass against his crotch while he rubbed my body from my hard nipples down to the tops of my thighs. I could feel his hardness, working against me, and I dry fucked him in the middle of all those people, under the dazzling lights.

Tommy had worked my skirt up in the back, exposing the thong I was wearing and I moaned, sweating and breathless. I turned my head and reach up to pull his mouth to me, kissing him as we moved, heedless of the people around us. Corgan was doing a soft acoustic medley of Today/1979/Adore and the lights were low when I felt Tommy pushing his exposed cock into my soaking pussy. He was nice and big, just like I knew he'd be and I had my arms over my head, behind me to hug his neck while we slowly fucked in the middle of the crowd. We just moved together, swaying together, my ass doing little a grind against him as he rocked himself a fraction in and out.

It didn't take long to make me cum, especially with Tommy's hands on my tits, squeezing them and thumbing my prominent hard nipples through the sheer material of my dress. I was gasping and jamming myself down on that sweet impalement, my cunt muscles contracting around him and it was a moment later I felt Tommy giving it up, groaning and shooting his seed deep inside me. God! What a glorious fuck that was and I nearly collapsed with the pleasure of it.

I turned my head again, kissing Tommy hard, sucking his tongue with the man's cock still embedded inside me. I heard some people whispering as the music stopped momentarily, but I didn't care. I was the Capo Regime of Manhattan, this was my town and I could do whatever I wanted. If that meant fucking my boy-toy in the middle of a club, so be it.

The lights had come up and the band was launching into Bullets With Butterfly Wings and I separated from Tommy, both of us flushed and smiling and fixing our clothes. I pulled my thong back in place, feeling our fuck juices running down my legs as we started dancing like normal people. I loved that song.

Tommy leaned close to me at one point, his eyes shining. "I love you," he told me, yelling it into my ear and I smiled at him, shaking my head.

We danced for a good half-hour before we needed a break. Dave had set us up with a reserved table in a decent spot to see the stage, up on the mezzanine looking down on the crowd. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck were sitting a few feet away, along with a couple girls who looked like they were doing tampon commercials. On the other side of us I saw Derek Jeter sitting with a couple girls who weren't even that shy. I thought about asking for his autograph, not because I knew anything about baseball, but just because he was definitely hot. The Prince of New York. Jeter was a made guy and he didn't even know it, but if he ever signed with another team? Fuck. I'd clip him myself.

We drank champagne and laughed a lot, Tommy and me, thoroughly enjoying ourselves now. During a break in the music Loris came up to give personals to the VIPs. He started with me, just shaking Tommy's hand and kissing me on the cheek. I might not have been the most famous or richest person there, not by a long shot, but I was an act of God waiting to happen and Loris knew it. He made his way to Jeter next, and then around the tables in order of importance. It was a nice touch and I could see why his club was so popular. It got my mind back on business.

"I'm going to bring you up," I told Tommy. "Into my crew."

He nodded. "I figured that, thanks." He really didn't know what to say and I'd just as soon he didn't say anything, so I held up my hand to keep him quiet.

"I've been short a guy since Little Paulie fucked up." I stared into Tommy's eyes. "You ain't a made guy yet, remember that. I haven't told my boys either, so just keep your mouth shut and your ears open. I'm gonna have you driving me and doing collections."

He nodded. "Okay."

"What's your girlfriend's name?"

"Clarice." Tommy smiled almost apologetically. "She goes to Julliard, plays the violin." He shrugged. "Why?"

"You fuck Clarice, you wear a rubber. Got it? You fuck anybody but me, you stay clean ... and you better not be fucking anybody but me and Clarice, you got that? I'll give you one girl, but that's it. I don't share too good."

"Okay, yeah, I heard that," he smiled like a little boy.

"You heard what?"

"About the condom thing. Shit, Rache, Sal told me he don't even fuck his wife no more without a raincoat!" Tommy laughed and it made me grin. "Serious though, Rache, I'll give the bitch up. I love you."

"No, you keep the girl, spoil her." I rubbed his hand. "I'm getting married on Saturday; you bring her to the reception. I want to meet her."

"Uh, okay."

"This girlfriend, is she at your place?"

"Yeah, we live together up in the Village." He grinned a little sheepishly. "It's her place, technically."

"The Village?" I laughed at him. "Okay, let's go to my place."

We were in the middle of our third good fuck of the night, fourth if you count the club, when I heard the boys coming in with Paul. It was 3:52am according to the little clock next to the bed and I was on my hands and knees with Tommy kneeling behind me, sliding his beautiful prick in and out of me easily. He paused and I looked over my shoulder at him.

"Don't stop, baby, just keep going." I was panting because I'd been cumming over and over again, seemingly without stop for the last hour or so, having reached some emotional-physical-psychological plateau that I'd never even dreamt existed. Whatever this kid was doing to me ... Oh fuck! I hoped he'd never stop.

The door opened and Paul staggered into the bedroom, smiling and giggling like a drunken schoolgirl. His clothes were a mess and he had six different shades of lipstick all over his handsome face. I guessed his bachelor party had been a success. He stopped abruptly when he saw me with Tommy's large erection working slowly in and out of my glistening cunt.

"R-R-Rashael?" His eyes opened wide and he blinked as Tommy and I both turned to look at him. "Wha's going on?"

"Tommy, this is my fiancé, Paul," I sighed. "Paul ... mmmm ... this is Tommy Figaro, my ... uh ... driver." I was moaning softly as the experience of having Paul see me getting fucked like this brought another little climax.

"Yeah. How ya doin?" Tommy asked, never missing a stroke.

"Tha-Tha's my wife ... you're drivin' there!" Paul slurred just a little. He shook his head and turned around, wandering out of the room mumbling drunkenly and I giggled.

"You're gonna marry that guy?" Tommy jammed his long prick inside me hard, as if to make his point.

"Oh!" I gasped. "Yeah, don't worry about it, he's a sweetie."

Tommy just laughed.

We slept until noon, when the phone woke me up. Tommy was spooning me, his chest to my back and his morning erection pressing against my ass. I moved slightly, reaching for the phone and he sighed in his sleep, pushing slightly with his hips and I spread my legs for him, feeling the thick, dry head pressing against nicely against my anus.

"Yeah," I said softly.

"Rache? Tony ... You comin' in today?"

"No, I got..." I shifted a bit as Tommy pushed again in his sleep. "I got stuff to do. Why?"

"We got a problem with Manny. I tried to fix it, but he wants to talk to you." Tony sounded apologetic. Manny was a union guy connected with Vic. We'd had an accommodation for some trucks, but now Vic was dead, so... "He wants a new deal."

"What are we giving him now?" My brain was a little fogged.

"We give him three bills a week." That was for schedules, invoices and insurance, police reports, that kind of thing. We pulled a lot of good stuff down from lost trucks and he made sure we found the right ones.