“Kid, you’ve got guts.
Aren’t you scared?”
“A lot of people say that.
Nothing strange about it.
Besides, I don’t think someone who can barely sit up is in a position to do much to me.” John Leighton replied without particular interest.
He hadn’t gotten a proper look the night before.
Now he took stock.
Dense small braids, a full beard, a pale square face, thick eyebrows, large eyes.
About 1.8 meters tall, robustly built, with the kind of expression that had probably intimidated a great many people over the years.
Brown skin, somewhere around thirty years old.
Decent looking, John Leighton decided.
Not quite movie star territory, but not far off either.
While John Leighton was observing him, the man was doing the same in return.
He was clearly surprised by what he saw.
John Leighton was nearly as tall as him, but the face was unmistakably young.
A minor, without question.
And yet the kid was sitting there completely composed, looking at a grown man with a gang member’s bearing as though he were perfectly ordinary.
There was no nerves, no posturing.
Just calm, grounded confidence.
“Alright.
Thank you both for last night.
Without you, I would have died in the street.”
“We’re not particularly interested in gratitude.
The question you need to answer is whether you’re leaving immediately or staying a little longer.”
“Don’t worry.
I’ll call my people shortly.
I’ll be gone soon and I won’t cause you any trouble.”
“That’s the best outcome for everyone.
Thank you.”
“I should be the one saying that.
Whatever happens, I, Allen Francis, owe both of you a life.”
“Wait.
You’re Allen Francis?”
Zach had just returned to the room with food and caught the name.
His reaction said everything about what that name meant in this part of the city.
“It seems you know me.”
“Whoever he is, he’s leaving today, Zach.
We don’t want trouble.” John Leighton said evenly.
Zach shrugged and handed Allen the breakfast.
Looking at how visibly Zach had relaxed after hearing the name, John Leighton drew his own conclusions.
Allen Francis had a reputation, and apparently it was the kind that meant he kept his word. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
A gang member with principles was still a gang member, but it was a meaningful distinction.
“Mr.
Francis, how did you end up in front of our car last night?” John Leighton asked, more out of curiosity than anything.
“John, that’s really none of our business,” Zach cut in.
“Zach, right?
It’s fine.
It’s in the past now.
A few days ago we had a shootout with a crew from out of town.
I took a hit.
Then last night there turned out to be a traitor on our side.
I got out, barely, and then you two found me.”
The two of them thought back to the gunfire they had heard their first night back in the apartment.
That had likely been the same conflict.
“Did you two treat my wounds last night?
They’ve healed considerably more than I would have expected.”
“You must have an excellent constitution,” John Leighton said, without any change in expression.
He had no desire to get into it, and explaining the truth would only create more problems.
Playing dumb was the right call.
Neither Allen nor Zach pushed further.
After finishing breakfast, Allen made a phone call and told them he would be leaving shortly.
True to his word, within fifteen minutes he had said goodbye to both of them and slipped out of the apartment, keeping to the corners and avoiding the front desk.
A few minutes later, three large SUVs pulled up outside.
A brief exchange, then they were gone.
“Alright, Zach.
Let’s just treat last night as a strange dream.”
“Boy, do you actually know who Allen Francis is?”
“He’s Allen Francis, isn’t he?” John Leighton said, feigning mild confusion, mostly to give Zach the satisfaction of being the one to explain.
Zach saw straight through it, shook his head slightly, and told him anyway.
“He’s the boss of the Black Python Gang.
The main Mexican outfit in this district.”
John Leighton nodded and let his thoughts run briefly.
A gang boss.
Reasonably impressive in the world he currently occupied.
But John Leighton was an apprentice magician on the path to something far beyond that.
When he eventually broke through to full magician, a man like Allen Francis and everyone around him would not be a problem worth thinking about.
One magician, even a beginner, was effectively invincible within a hundred meter radius.
As an apprentice, he could cast a handful of small spells before being completely exhausted.
The gap between where he was and where he needed to be was still enormous.
Cultivation could not be rushed.
…
Around half past six that evening, the two of them were eating dinner on the small balcony when John Leighton’s mental perception caught something in the corridor.
A young man with similar braided hair to Allen’s placed a bulging yellow paper bag in front of the apartment door, knocked twice, and immediately walked back to the elevator without waiting.
“Who is it?” Zach pushed back his chair, already heading for the door.
“Wait.” John Leighton stopped him.
“They had just brought a gang boss into the apartment.
A clearly Mexican young man had just left something outside their door without a word.
The calculation was simple.”
“We just saved the boss of a gang this morning.
Someone knocks and you just walk straight out?
What if they’re looking for trouble?
What if that bag isn’t a gift?”
Zach stopped.
His eyes went wide for a moment.
Then the phone rang.
“Hello, this is the Leighton residence.”
“Kid.
It’s Francis.
I hope you two like what was just delivered.
It’s the best I could do on short notice.
I know it’s not much, but I couldn’t think of anything better.
If you ever find yourself in trouble, reach out.
My number is in the bag.”
He hung up before John Leighton could respond.
“Who was it?” Zach asked, still hovering near the door.
“Francis.
The bag at the door is from him.
Bring it in.”
Zach opened the door and picked up the brown paper bag.
Inside were twenty bundles of US dollars.
Two hundred thousand, by any quick count.
At the bottom of the bag, a folded note with a contact number and the amount written clearly.
“What do we do with this?” Zach asked, looking to John Leighton the way he had increasingly started to do whenever something significant came up.
“We keep it.
No point in refusing and creating an awkward situation.
Think of it as charitable timing.
We were almost out of money.” John Leighton said it simply, as though two hundred thousand dollars had just arrived at a mildly convenient moment.
Zach gave him a look, then sat down and started counting the bills with the focused enthusiasm of a man who had made his peace with the decision and was now fully committed to enjoying the outcome.