the alpha

Part 9

18:34 pm

The goddamned preacher had done a runner. According to Morton, he had packed his shit, what little he really had apparently, and told the caretaker that he would be gone until the following Sunday. He had made arrangements with a fellow priest that would be making his
way south from Chatsworth, but he did not leave a number that he could be reached at.

To Carlton, that means he does not really have any intention of coming back. Fortunately, Morton confided that the preacher had reported that he was headed north to Huntsville, where he had family.

It is not confusing at all to him that the old bastard high-tailed it. There was no reason for
him to think that Carlton was bound to get violent, but he was being safe all the same.

He made the decision to sell him out. But Huntsville is a big place, and there is no
guarantee that the priest is even headed in that direction. The problem of course is that the priest is not the only source that turned on him, since apparently the lot of those that he's been working with for so long grew a set of balls and decided to fuck him over. But there is a good chance that if he stays in town at this moment that trouble could start coming his way in a manner that he's not ready to deal with.

One problem at a time, one fucking problem at a time.

He has no allies in this town right now, that much is obvious, but he needs to rebuild his influence as much as he can. Carlton needs to find people he can rely on, threaten, cajole, whatever. But for now, he has to go.

Does he have time to go home? Does he have time to get a few things and make his way out of town?

He has a couple of weeks, he could...he might..., "Stop it."

His own growl is accompanied by a fierce flexing of muscle as he steadies himself. He can feel the flesh of his face tighten as it usually does when he starts to get mad. He is good and pissed off right, he's ready to beat...

Oh, right. He already did that. Well, dammit, he is ready to do it again. But he has to think rationally now, logically, he has to reason and figure out what step comes next.

"Go home, pack a bag, take your burner phone and laptop. Bring your fake accounts and jammer. That is the first step. Let us go home."

Yes, let us.

He does not know where the voice is coming from, but he's ready to do as he needs to in
order to get the hell out of town and find the traitorous sonofabitch that likely started this off.

Carlton is going to do everything it takes to get to the preacher and to make him realize how big of a fucking mistake he made. But no, not yet, he is going to go home, get his stuff, and light out
as soon as he possibly can.

Be quick, just in case.

"Damn right," Carlton replied to no one, making his way toward his car as a wolfish smile came to his lips.

* * *

18:55 pm

He is so insanely tired right now, but a smile creases his face anyway as he sits at the bar
nursing his second shot of scotch, recalling the look on Dan's face as he walked out of the boss's
office. Tom had been called in to discuss his numbers, as Dan had attempted to plant a seed in their minds that he might have added a zero, that he might have fooled them, or fooled the clients into thinking that they had received the best deal. Dan had tried to fuck him over in other words.

And he had been called on his bullshit when Tom had retrieved the copies that the bosses needed,
the proof that the clients had signed, that they had been happy enough with their purchases.