Chapter 123

• Nine hundred and fifty thousand dollars for two hundred kilograms of cocaine. There was one mob who’d do something that crazy: the fucking Italians. They’d done it for years and never bothered with the repercussions that followed. Cheap crooks who wouldn’t hesitate to sell low-quality shit at an affordable price just to keep the cows trooping in. And Bryd here was one of the fucking cows. When the cows ran into problems, they’d clean up, bury, and continue selling.
• We preferred to deal smarter. Smarter meant more quality. And more quality meant more price.
• I dropped my pen, sitting up with an annoyed glare. He had my full attention now, and for that, he was going to have to pay somehow if he wasted my fucking time.