Read Online All the King's Men: The Beginning by Donya Lynne - Free Book Online
Authors: Donya Lynne
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that the streets weren't completely void of life, but at least the vampires were down for the day.
Normally, he wouldn't venture this far north in the city, but he had a debt to collect. He brought his gaze back around to two of his dealers, Ovid and Regis.
"Apostle?" Ovid said cautiously.
"Ovid. Regis." He nodded to each in turn. "Let's go inside." Going indoors would get him out of the irritating, ass-frigid cold, but would also keep the rest of what was about to go down out of the public eye.
Ovid and Regis exchanged glances but turned and led him back inside the club they owned, which provided a nice front for cobalt distribution.
"What's up? What brings you around?" Regis said, but he spoke with the caution of someone who already knew why Apostle was there.
Apostle stepped around the bar and poured himself a beer, making himself at home. After all, Ovid and Regis only owned this bar by Apostle's good graces. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and if they had a problem with that…well, they wouldn't have a problem with that. Enough said. "How's business?" he said without answering Regis's question.
Restlessness worried Regis's body language, but Ovid tried to force a disarming smile.
Waste of time. Smiles didn't do much for Apostle. Cobalt sales, income to stuff in Premier Royce's coffers, and the weakening of the vampire race. That was what yanked Apostle's chain and gave him a mental hard-on. But a pansy-assed smile. Was Ovid serious?
"Business is good," Ovid said. "Better than ever."
Apostle took a drink of his beer as he came back around the counter and leaned against the bar. "Are you sure?"
"Oh yeah, yeah," Ovid said, flustered.
He calmly set down his mug. "Well now, that's interesting."
Ovid frowned, and Regis gulped uncomfortably. "Oh? Why?"
Apostle sighed. "You really think I'm stupid, don't you?"
Every once in a while, one of his teams of dealers got greedy, skimmed off the top, dipped their fingers too deeply into the profits that were supposed to go to Royce, and Apostle had to pay them a little visit and remind them who was in charge. Sure, a little skimming was natural. Cobalt dealers were greedy beings by nature, so he expected some five fingering. He even padded the percentages to compensate for it. As it was, Ovid and Regis had been diving in a little too deeply. For months, the amount of cobalt they pushed into the hands of vampires didn't mesh with the dollars and cents being turned in, and every week saw a little bit more of a discrepancy, to the tune that O and R were in the hole about one hundred thousand dollars. It was time for a come-to-Jesus meeting.
"No, Apostle. Absolutely not," Ovid said.
Apostle pulled out his nightstick and slammed it into Ovid's gut before snaring his throat in his fist and shoving him against the wall. "You two owe me one hundred big ones. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Did you really think I would just let that go?" He shifted to blue, and his eyes flashed red with a burst of anger. His long, blue-black hair hung well past his shoulders, and his fingers grew about an inch longer, his face hollowing out and growing gaunt.
Ovid struggled to speak against the hold Apostle had on his neck.
Regis sputtered from behind him, trying to find his voice, before spitting out, "We were going to pay it back. I swear."
God, Regis sounded like a sniveling human. No heart. No guts. Apostle released Ovid and spun, leveling Regis with a backhand that sent him sailing into a cocktail table ten feet away. "You most definitely are going to pay it back!" Anger flowed like lava through his veins. "Do you think I enjoy babysitting you fools? I could replace the two of you in an hour if I wanted to. Do you realize that?"
Regis gathered his bearings and stood, head down. He wouldn't even meet Apostle's eyes. Behind him, Ovid hacked and sputtered for air, and Apostle spun to face him. "You have one week to come up with the money. One week!"
Jesus! He felt like he
Normally, he wouldn't venture this far north in the city, but he had a debt to collect. He brought his gaze back around to two of his dealers, Ovid and Regis.
"Apostle?" Ovid said cautiously.
"Ovid. Regis." He nodded to each in turn. "Let's go inside." Going indoors would get him out of the irritating, ass-frigid cold, but would also keep the rest of what was about to go down out of the public eye.
Ovid and Regis exchanged glances but turned and led him back inside the club they owned, which provided a nice front for cobalt distribution.
"What's up? What brings you around?" Regis said, but he spoke with the caution of someone who already knew why Apostle was there.
Apostle stepped around the bar and poured himself a beer, making himself at home. After all, Ovid and Regis only owned this bar by Apostle's good graces. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and if they had a problem with that…well, they wouldn't have a problem with that. Enough said. "How's business?" he said without answering Regis's question.
Restlessness worried Regis's body language, but Ovid tried to force a disarming smile.
Waste of time. Smiles didn't do much for Apostle. Cobalt sales, income to stuff in Premier Royce's coffers, and the weakening of the vampire race. That was what yanked Apostle's chain and gave him a mental hard-on. But a pansy-assed smile. Was Ovid serious?
"Business is good," Ovid said. "Better than ever."
Apostle took a drink of his beer as he came back around the counter and leaned against the bar. "Are you sure?"
"Oh yeah, yeah," Ovid said, flustered.
He calmly set down his mug. "Well now, that's interesting."
Ovid frowned, and Regis gulped uncomfortably. "Oh? Why?"
Apostle sighed. "You really think I'm stupid, don't you?"
Every once in a while, one of his teams of dealers got greedy, skimmed off the top, dipped their fingers too deeply into the profits that were supposed to go to Royce, and Apostle had to pay them a little visit and remind them who was in charge. Sure, a little skimming was natural. Cobalt dealers were greedy beings by nature, so he expected some five fingering. He even padded the percentages to compensate for it. As it was, Ovid and Regis had been diving in a little too deeply. For months, the amount of cobalt they pushed into the hands of vampires didn't mesh with the dollars and cents being turned in, and every week saw a little bit more of a discrepancy, to the tune that O and R were in the hole about one hundred thousand dollars. It was time for a come-to-Jesus meeting.
"No, Apostle. Absolutely not," Ovid said.
Apostle pulled out his nightstick and slammed it into Ovid's gut before snaring his throat in his fist and shoving him against the wall. "You two owe me one hundred big ones. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Did you really think I would just let that go?" He shifted to blue, and his eyes flashed red with a burst of anger. His long, blue-black hair hung well past his shoulders, and his fingers grew about an inch longer, his face hollowing out and growing gaunt.
Ovid struggled to speak against the hold Apostle had on his neck.
Regis sputtered from behind him, trying to find his voice, before spitting out, "We were going to pay it back. I swear."
God, Regis sounded like a sniveling human. No heart. No guts. Apostle released Ovid and spun, leveling Regis with a backhand that sent him sailing into a cocktail table ten feet away. "You most definitely are going to pay it back!" Anger flowed like lava through his veins. "Do you think I enjoy babysitting you fools? I could replace the two of you in an hour if I wanted to. Do you realize that?"
Regis gathered his bearings and stood, head down. He wouldn't even meet Apostle's eyes. Behind him, Ovid hacked and sputtered for air, and Apostle spun to face him. "You have one week to come up with the money. One week!"
Jesus! He felt like he
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