The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) by Ian Malone (great books of all time TXT) 📕

wild about startin’ over from scratch with a brand-new command staff and a brand new company in a culture he wasn’t terribly comfortable in to begin with. Hell—” Taylor grunted, “—I’d have been a little salty, too, if I were him.”

Genovese huffed. “So just like that. It’s no harm, no foul.”

“No harm, no foul,” Taylor said.

Genovese sipped his coffee. “Ah, I guess I’m not surprised. Paulie always did have authority issues. And besides, a wise guy like him takin’ orders from a pack of rednecks like you fellas? No way was that gonna end well.” He glanced up, eyes slightly widening. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Taylor chewed his lip. “You’ve been a North Floridian for what? Two years now?”

“Two years and a month. Why?”

“Can I offer you some free insight?”

Genovese nodded.

“The term redneck ain’t an insult where I come from,” Taylor said. “It’s a code, and it’s not just for Southerners, either. It applies to anybody who works their fingers to the bone, day in and day out, to care for the others around them.” He pointed to the kitchen. “Take Corporal Newhouse for example. Prior to boardin’ my crew, he spent eight years workin’ extra shifts in triple-digit heat on a tobacco farm so his kids could have nice clothes for school. Then there’s my XO, Major Dawson. His parents were flat broke when he graduated from Lee. So Billy joined the Navy out of high school and got himself some skills, then parlayed that into a highly lucrative career as a merc. Now his parents live on the beach in Amelia Island.”

Genovese drummed his fingers. “You’re talkin’ about work ethic.”

“That’s part of it,” Taylor said. “Bein’ a redneck ain’t about where you come from or how you earn a livin’. It’s about the conscious choice to put the wants and needs of those who matter most above your own at any price and by any means necessary. Everything else is just a distant second on the priority list.”

Genovese eased back in his seat, seeming to understand. “So family above all else. I can appreciate that in my own way.”

“I thought you might,” Taylor said. “Which brings us to you.”

“What about me?” Genovese asked.

“How does a New York needle mover with no military experience, para or otherwise, climb the ranks to become second in command of an interstellar mercenary outfit in 25 months?”

The captain’s lips formed a line. “You make it sound like I dangled Paulie off a balcony and made him promote me.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Listen, Chief, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, and honestly, I don’t care. I worked my way up in this outfit just like everybody else. How was I supposed to know Paulie’s XO was gonna bail 18 into my first tour? Moreover, what was I supposed to say when Paulie offered me the shot? No? He’d have been devastated!”

Taylor raised a palm. “It’s cool, man. I hear you.”

“Do ya now?” Genovese asked.

“Yes, I do,” Taylor said firmly. “I may have grown up in this business on account of my brother, but lest we forget, the Eagles have only been back in action for three years under my command. Prior to that, I was slingin’ well bourbons and domestic drafts over in Cocktail Junction for tips and free food.”

That provoked a slight double-take from the captain. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Taylor replied.

“I’ll be damned.” Genovese scratched his whiskers. “From the barstool to the command chair, huh? That must’ve been some learning curve.”

“It still is,” Taylor said. “Our first big mission back was…well, let’s just say it didn’t go to plan. But we rolled with the punches and fought through it. I’m just thankful to have the staff around me that I do. They’re honest, reliable, and good at their jobs. Moreover, I trust their judgement to help me make informed decisions when it feels like I’m in over my head.”

“That’s important.” Genovese stabbed out a finger. “The whole trust thing, I mean. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s probably why Paulie tapped me as his XO instead of one of the other officers. Trust don’t come easy for him. It never has, not since his dad walked out on their family when he was a kid.”

Taylor winced. “I didn’t know about that.”

“Yep,” Genovese said. “Paulie’s been the man of his house since he was big enough to hold a meat cleaver. He took an apprenticeship with one of the local butchers when he was 12, then worked his way up until he was managing his own slaughterhouse out by Arbor Commons. That’s where I met him.”

“You worked in the slaughterhouse?” Taylor said.

“That’s right,” Genovese said. “My old man felt I needed a job that would put some hair on my balls, and in his opinion, swingin’ blades at carcasses and standin’ around in animal entrails all day was it. He pulled some strings and got me the gig that summer before I turned 15.”

Taylor’s only experience cleaning meat had stopped with the skinning process of the animals he’d killed during hunting season. Beyond that, he’d paid a butcher to do the rest.

“I met Paulie my first week in,” Genovese continued. “We hit it right off, too. In retrospect, I think that’s mostly because I reminded him so much of his son, Tony. The Torrio family took me in pretty quick after that, even despite all my…” He paused. “Baggage.”

Taylor leaned onto an elbow. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that by ‘baggage,’ you mean the Genovese legacy in New York.”

The captain exhaled through his nostrils. “I see that Brooklyn birdie of yours has been chirpin’ outta school.”

“Frank’s a good officer,” Taylor said. “If he knows something, he speaks up, whether you want him to or not. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”