NALEDI’S POV

This was the part I hated about working in the underworld.

The disrespect. The utter disregard the men could have unless you showed off what syndicate you belonged to.

We were led into the hinder parts of the bar, into a smelly office that held Don Hawkings. The man in question was on his feet, waiting for our arrival until he saw us.

“Who are they?” He sneered, his Italian accent thick as well as his sordid breath. “Where are the Cosa Nostra? Matteo?”

I spoke first. “Mr Don Hawkings. I will be your new dealer. Naledi Rogers.” I held out my arm, hoping he didn’t shake on...