Meant To Be - Heaven Hill Series #1

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Richard Joyce knew he had to do something. Bookies were this close to putting out hits on him, but one in particular was willing to deal. He wanted a piece of property located on Highway 185 that belonged to the club. If he could get his hands on that land, he knew he would be able to wipe his slate clean and perhaps live another year. A plan had developed in his head. He could give the bookie a small piece of the land and then take the rest to sell for a profit. The overage would allow him to set up residence elsewhere and stay alive. He had to get this taken care of and the sooner the better. The bank would know sooner rather than later that he'd begun to skim off the top. Prominent citizens of Bowling Green were bound to start noticing their bank accounts becoming smaller. Amounts taken out weren't exorbitant, but Richard knew that many of them kept a close watch on their accounts. His game was about to be up, and he knew it. Something had to happen, and it had to be now. When this started, he only thought it would be for a short while, he couldn't keep this up.

Not for the first time he cursed his gambling habit. Something he had never been able to give up. Even with the club it had been bad – so bad that he probably still owed them dues – because he'd never been able to afford them when they were owed. He figured he had never learned one good lesson in his life, and this was probably how it was supposed to end up.

At his side, his phone rang and he answered, not sure of the number. It seemed like he was getting calls at all hours of the day from unknown numbers. It did no good to screen them, they just kept calling. He sighed as he answered.

"Yeah?"

"The reporter is taken care of. She won't be a problem after today." The voice was low, sounding like a movie villain.

Richard's eyebrows drew together in question, and his stomach dropped. Whatever this was, wasn't good. "Who are you, and what the hell are you talking about? I never ordered a hit on a reporter."

The voice on the other end of the phone caused goose bumps to break out over his arms and neck. This did not feel good.

"You did, and I want the other half of my payment." The steel of the voice told Richard not to argue, but he wouldn't be blamed for something he damn well didn't do.

"I don't know who the fuck you are. I'm not sure how to explain that to you any more clearly than I already have," Richard argued.

"Well then we have a bit of a problem, Richard Joyce, because I know everything about you. I did a job in your name and was paid half for it up front, and now I want my other half. I want that money by the end of business tomorrow."

The dial tone in his ear was the only thing that told him the phone call was over.

Richard cursed loudly. Someone had set him up and now he had two people gunning for him. He slammed the phone down and ran a hand through his hair. It was time to either pull the plug on himself or pull the trigger on his plan – whichever he decided it had to be done now. Either way, he figured this was the end and he'd be dead soon anyhow.

Steele sat in front of the bank of monitors that watched the numerous interests the club had around the city and beyond. They were almost certain that Richard was going to hit one of them, they just weren't sure which. He stretched lazily. It felt like he'd been sitting there forever.

"Everything good?" Liam asked as he took a seat next to the other man.

"Everything's quiet. Too quiet really. I expect something to happen very soon. It hasn't ever been this quiet. Spooky quiet."

Just as he said that, a group of men appeared on one of the screens. They wore all black. From hooded sweatshirts to black pants, gloves, and boots. The two of them watched as they broke into a warehouse and breached the front door.