The Dealer
“Things aren’t looking too good for you, are they?”
God, how he’d love to wipe that smirk off the prick’s face. Instead, the Dealer offered a shrug. “I’m not worried.”
The prick snorted, clearly not buying it. “You should be.”
The two locked stares for several moments. He was sick of demands, sick of threats, sick of people like the man sitting in front of him. Acid churned in his gut, threatening to eat its way through and dissolve him on the spot. But he’d be damned if he’d show any sign of weakness.
“Look,” the guy said, the smirk softening a bit. “I need you, you need me. We help each other out. That’s how this works.”
That might be how it worked, but there were lines the Dealer had never crossed before. Lines he would never cross. There was too much at stake, too much he could lose. He looked the prick in the eye. “No deal.”