Chapter 121

GREG.

"...Sir, we've gone round."

"Go around it again."

"Sir..."

He glared at the suited men before him, their hands latched behind their backs, suits without a crease, and their words holding respect, but he wasn't stupid; he knew a condescending tone when hit with one.

What happened when low-lives got the hint that they were needed, not wanted like they had been made to believe? The fear in their eyes became disgust, and their respect shifted to mockery.

Not if he could help it, he raised his palm and snapped. “So what the fuck are you waiting for?"

They hesitated, then, with a secret message passed to each other, they nodded with a corner of their lips quirked. "Yes, sir, we’re on it.” they took one last disgusted look at his lowly motel, dusted jackets, and left.

“It's not permanent, you condescending fucks,” he yelled after them.

The door slamming close was their response, so hard he feared it was going to upset the hinges,