Josie stood at least four inches taller than Snips in bare feet; add in the heels and she towered over the slimy loan shark. From her vantage point, Josie counted the twelve greasy black hairs slicked over his prematurely bald dome. And they say God doesn't have a sense of humor.
"The dealer's about to get started again, but we need to talk later."
"I've told you a million times, Snips, I'm not interested."
"When you hear just how much Cyril owes me, you'll change your tune." Confidence oozed from his blindingly white, toothy grin.
Her baby brother would never borrow money from Snips. "What in the hell are you talking about?"
Snips just smirked. Finally, his eyes met hers. "We'll need to work something out." His gaze dropped again.
Her baby brother by all of twelve minutes promised the craps games were in his past. Why in the hell would Cy need money from a shark on the lowest rung of the Callandriello family's crime ladder? Was he gambling again, trying to cover mom's out-of-whack medical bills? Had the bank finally come through on its threats to foreclose on her parents' house? She didn't have the answers. Instead she had an ominous gurgling in the pit of her stomach and Snips' little snake eyes ogling what he could never touch.
Josie wobbled on her four-inch Lucite heels, but forced her voice to strengthen. "I asked how much?"