He reached into the pocket of his old bomber jacket and found a
lighter and flicked it nervously a couple times.
"Don't you light that cigarette," Davey said. "Don't you dare."
"How long are we going to be here?" Krishna's whine was utterly devoid
of his customary swagger.
"What kind of person is he?" Davey said. "What kind of person is he? He
is in love with my brother, looks at him with cow-eyes when he sees him,
hangs on his words like a love-struck girl." He laughed nastily. "Like
*your* love-struck girl, like she looks at him.
"I wonder if he's had her yet. Do you think he has?"
"I don't care," Krishna said petulantly, and levered himself to his
feet. He began to pace and Alan hastily backed himself into the doorway
he'd been hiding in. "She's mine, no matter who she's fucking. I *own*
her."
"Look at that," Darrel said. "Look at him talking to them, his little
army, like a general giving them a pep talk. He got that from my
brother, I'm sure. Everywhere he goes, he leaves a trail of manipulators
who run other people's lives."
Alan's stomach clenched in on itself, and his butt and thighs ached
suddenly, like he'd been running hard. He thought about his prot?©g?©s
with their shops and their young employees, learning the trade from them
as they'd learned it from him. How long had Don been watching him?
"When are we going to do it?" Krishna spat out his cigarette and shook
another out of his pack and stuck it in his mouth.
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