“You get to keep breathing, Tommy. And a few million in a Cayman account. Same as always.”
“He’s feeding the fish off the pier.”
Tommy Vercetti shoved the fire door open with his shoulder. Inside the cramped office, Albert Tanjh sat behind a glass desk, not looking up from his leather-bound ledger.
“I was tying up a loose end. One of your couriers tried to skim.”