Page 8 of The Devil's Bargain
Pig 1.
Pig 2.
Pig - bald.
Pig - tiny dick energy…
Officer Burns, however, is different. If I ever thought I could sway him away from the benefits his badge and his uniform give him, I’d snap him up for the syndicate in a heartbeat. There’s something dark in the steely-eyed cop I recognize, and if there’s a single pig in all of Springfield I’d use for something like this, it’s him.
I keep his number stored under ‘W’.Wildfire. Nearly impossible to contain, and easily set off with something as simple as a spark, it suits the cop, and not only because of his last name.
It’s closing in on eleven. He usually patrols at night, though I haven’t seen him around lately. Either way, if he sees my number popping up on his phone, he’ll answer it if he wants his weekly deposits to keep on coming.
Three rings. It takes three rings, and then—
“This is Burns.”
“It’s me,” I rumble.
“Devil. Haven’t heard from you in a while. You okay?”
Better than I would’ve ever guessed a couple of minutes ago. “Just fine.”
“Glad to hear it. What’s up?”
“Remember how I got you that shot you were asking for a couple of months back?”
He should. Burns came to me because he needed a potent sedative loaded in an injector-driven syringe. Small enough to conceal in his palm, and strong enough to knock an average-sized woman on her ass.
I don’t know why he wanted me to do it. Burns has his own way of seeing things, and while we both know that drugs are Damien’s domain, he either couldn’t get what he wanted from Libellula, or he got his kicks seeing if I could get my hands on it.
Of course I could. There isn’t a damn thing I can’t get in Springfield, no questions asked for the right buyer, and I proved that when I handed over his sedative.
Burns is quiet for a moment, before he says, “Yeah. I remember.”
“Good. ‘Cause now I need something from you.”
“From Mace,” he asks, “or from Officer Burns?”
“From the officer. And I need it tonight. You can do that?”
“Sarge has got me doing an overnight. I’m on duty ‘til five, then I need to get my ass home. That good with you, Devil?”
“Yeah.”
“You want flashy, or do you want quiet?”
Thinking about what Ava told me, I add, “Bring the cruiser and the uniform, but don’t turn the sirens on. I don’t want to wake up her neighborhood.”
“Got it.” That’s the best thing about Burns. I don’t have to spell out that I need him for cover-up, and a crew of guys for clean-up. He just knows. “Text me the address and I’m on my way.”
In my experience, working with the SPD is pretty fucking easy. With enough money, even the most righteous cop will look the other way when they have to. And maybe Burns has a cocky attitude that rubs me wrong, but even I sense there’s something off about him.
He reminds me of myself, and God only knows that’s not a compliment.
“And I’ll meet you there.”
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