Camden
I swing by and pick up Angelo and he whistles when I open the duffel bag and show him the contents.
“I’m keeping that automatic,” he says, and I snort out a laugh.
“I figured.”
“You don’t even have to pay me for this,” Angelo continues, hopping in the car as I shut the trunk. “I’ve been wanting to get rid of Marco Barone ever since he hit on my girlfriend.”
I raise an eyebrow as I get in the car. “You don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Not anymore,” he says mysteriously, and I don’t ask questions because Angelo wouldn’t tell me anyway. He keeps his personal life to himself, and I don’t blame him. In this lifestyle, it’s better to keep your mouth shut.
We travel to the worst parts of the city, checking out the closest warehouse first. I’m pretty sure it’s not the one because it seems
