Rhino did not relax his golfer stance. “I want to put your expertise to work for me.”
“Well, can you lower the crowbar while we talk?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. Can I at least get up?”
“Nope. You can sit there and get your fake-ass Armani pants wet.”
Stepp shook his head and brought his knees to his chest so less of his pants were absorbing the melting slush underneath him.
“You’re gonna work off your debt.”
“I don’t have a debt with—”
Rhino flexed the crowbar farther back and gritted his teeth. “Every f*****g night that I don’t have that w***e redhead on the streets collecting money for me is on your tab. Capiche?” Rhino tossed the crowbar into the hedges, and powdered snow rustled from the small twigs to the ground. “Since you’re so good at flipping my girls, you’ll be my personal bookkeepe
