People pay for what they do, and still more, for what they have allowed themselves to become. (James Baldwin)

She started to cry. When a stick-in-the-butt lawyer in a black suit buttoned up so tightly it looks like her circulation is cut off starts to cry, you know it's bad.

“They started shooting.”

My pale face was beyond white. I forgot to breath.

“How did they get past security?”

She bit her lip.

“Oh God,” I cried out. Tears fell as I gasped for breath. I knew someone I loved had died. I could tell. I didn't want to ask because I didn't want to know who, not yet. I wanted to have one last moment where everyone was breathing.

“Who?” I creaked.

“There were six fatalities so far.”

“So far?”

“William is still alive, but it's touch and go.”

“William,” I whispered.

“Is Nicky–” I couldn't even finish the question.

“Nicky made it.”

I was so relieved but that meant someone else was gone.

“Miami got caught in the crossfire.”

“No,” I exhaled. She had been a stripper and acted in some questionable films before she started working for me. I taught her to respect herself. She turned her whole life around. Sure she was the assistant to a druglord but her resume said she was the executive assistant of a property tycoon. She was getting smarter everyday and, my God, wasn't she sweet. She had so much promise and it was gone now. It had bleed out of her beside the pool.

“Martin too.”

He was like a smarter, more dependable version of Tommy. He could have run this business when I retired. He was dead.

“There were two college freshmen, they had graduated with you.”

“I don't want to hear anymore.”

“It's a miracle only six were killed. They could have killed everyone. They came in with machine guns and opened fire. They raided the drugs and trashed the equipment. If the operation wasn't already busted wide open from a legal perspective, it still wouldn't be functional now. Nearly everything is ruined.”