Evan Arden 03 Otherwise Unharmed (18 page)

“You
gonna treat this one better than the last one?”

“Fuck you!” I snapped as I stood up.  He stood as well, and towered over my six-foot-two frame by a couple of inches.  “She was feeding information to Greco!”

“Yeah, I ain’t talkin’ about takin’ her out—that needed to happen.  Kinda surprised you did it yourself, but it still had to happen.  I just meant in general.  You treated her like shit and then took her around so everyone knew she was with ya.  Might as well have just painted her with a fuckin’ bull’s-eye in case Terry didn’t get the hint.”

I was fuming, but
where other people would have cowered under my anger, Jonathan stood his ground.  I knew why, too—he was right, and he had no doubt about it.  He must have also assumed it wasn’t a death-warrant kind of remark because he had to have known I’d be packing.

“She was a fucking hooker,”
I reminded him.  “It wasn’t a goddamned
relationship
.”

I chose my words intentionally
—Jonathan hated it when people broke that particular commandment.  He didn’t give a shit about most of the rest of them, but that one was a sore spot.  I didn’t know why, but saying “goddamn” definitely pissed him off.

It
did earn me a nasty glare, but he didn’t say anything about it—he just went right back to me and my issues.

“So the new
, non-hooker—what’s that?”

“Fuck off,” I grumbled as I sat back down.

“Seriously, man,” Jonathan said as his voice softened, “you were locked up.  Where’d she come from?”

“Arizona,” I mumbled without thinking.  I should have realized someone as perceptive as Jonathan would put it together.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed.  “She’s the pussy you got while you were out in the middle of nowhere?  What’d she do?  Track ya down?”

I closed my e
yes and silently berated myself for giving away too much.  This wasn’t information I wanted him to take back to our boss, and I had to try to play it down as much as I could.  If I blew it off too much, he’d know I was hiding something.

“Something
like that,” I said.

Jonathan let out an artillery
-burst-like laugh.

“That’s custom!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Damn, bro.”  He whistled and leaned back against the bench again.  “S
o what are you gonna do with her?”

“I
dunno yet.”

“Well, good luck with that shit.”

Odin lumbered by, and I attached his leash again.  I’d been out a lot longer than I had intended to be, and Lia was still up there on her own.  I didn’t want her waking up and freaking out when she figured out I wasn’t in the apartment.

Jonathan stood up as I did.

“So, you gonna take some time off?” he asked.  “Fuck around and git yer shit together before comin’ back to work?”

I hadn’t thought about it, but it was as good a
cover as anything else I had at the moment.

“Yeah, I am,” I said.  “I
dunno how long, but a while.  I just need to get my head back on straight, ya know?”

“I hear
ya, brotha.”

We parted without goodbyes, and I loaded Odin back into the elevator.  On the way up, it seemed to take a much longer time than usual, which wasn’t helped by someone pressing a lot of the buttons on various floors to make the elevator stop.  There was never anyone there, but
the elevator kept pausing, opening the door, and then closing again before it would move on.

As it continued, I could feel my tension growing.  I tapped my fingers against my thigh, stepped back and forth between my feet, and glanced at my own reflection in the mirrored back wall of the elevator.

I hadn’t told Lia I was taking Odin outside.  She’d been asleep, and I hadn’t wanted to bother her.  Now I was wondering how good an idea it was to leave her lying there, unprotected, while I was outside.

Was Trent still watching the place? 
Probably.  Would he try to get to her, talk to her, or worse?  I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t put it past him.  From what Lia had described to me before, the conversation Johnson tried to have with her was more of a stalling technique than actually wanting anything from her.  I was still incredibly agitated by it, though.

When I finally got to my floor,
I was as wound up as I could be.  I tried to take a couple of calming breaths as I stepped out, but it wasn’t helping.  When I moved into the hallway, I startled as my peripheral vision caught movement to my right—the opposite way of my door.  I looked quickly, and my hand went instinctively to the gun in its shoulder holster.

It was a guy
—a kid.  He was maybe fifteen or so and just standing there, looking at me.  His face was dirty, and his white clothes were covered in sand.  He was holding his arms out at an awkward position, and I knew there was something under his shirt—something wrapped around his torso.

The kid was fucking booby-trapped.

I pulled out my Beretta, flicked off the safety, and aimed.

There was nothing there.

I rubbed my eyes, looked again, but there was still nothing.

“Shit,” I whispered into the corridor.

Odin snuffed at my shoe and then looked up at me expectantly.  I was breathing quickly, and my heart was pounding.  I shoved my gun back under my jacket and shook my head to clear it before walking back to my apartment and unlocking the door.

All was quiet inside, which just made me
more nervous.  I dropped the end of the leash without unlatching it from Odin’s collar and rushed into the bedroom to find Lia.

I had to wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark
and started to panic when I couldn’t see anyone on the bed.  I moved closer and could finally see the lump in the bed that was her sleeping form.  Taking a few quiet steps, I made sure I could hear her breathing softly, let out my own breath, and rubbed at my eyes.

Still a fucking nutcase.

Fabulous.

Back out in the living room, I released Odin from his leash and made sure he had some water.  I checked my laptop and found one more apartment to investigate before deciding I really did need to get some sleep.  Quietly moving back into the bedroom, I ditched all my clothes in the hamper, place
d my Beretta on the nightstand, and slipped underneath the sheets.

Lia was warm against my naked skin, and I wrapped one arm across her stomach and the other I snaked underneath her pillow so I could pull her against me.  She
made a little sighing sound in her sleep as she snuggled against me.

Nothing was wrong, and nothing had happened to her in my absence, but I was going to have to be more cautious.  I couldn’t just leave her on her own now.  Like Jonathan had said about Bridgett, and like Rinaldo had once told me about women in general
—having one around was like screaming to the underground crime world “I’m vulnerable!”  I had to protect her.

Breathing deeply to cover myself in her scent, I lay my head just over hers on the pillow and tried to make sure I was touching her as much as possible without actually waking her up.  My arms around her tightened slightly, and everything seemed all right again.

She would keep me sane, and I would keep her safe.

*****

“Neutral ground.”

Micah Severinov was hesitant to talk to me
, to say the least, and with good reason.  He knew exactly who I was though we had only been in the same room at the same time on one occasion.

“You can choose the place,” I told him.  “Well, within reason.  Anywhere public is fine.  I told you, I’m not looking for a confrontation
—I just want to talk a bit.”

He chose a
place called Quay, right off East Illinois near the heart of Chicago’s Magnificent Mile with a decent view of Navy Pier and the lake.  The front part of the place looked like a regular restaurant, but in the back was a posh lounge area.  The front part of it was definitely the kind of place that attracted tourists, but the back was nearly empty, quiet, and suited our purposes perfectly.

I decided to dress the gangster role and decked myself out in a dark pinstriped suit, red shirt, and black tie.  There was little more intimidating than a buffed-up guy in an expensive suit.  As long as the place he chose wasn’t a gay bar, no one would fuck with me if I was dressed like I owned the neighborhood.  If it was a gay bar, I’d get mauled within a minute.

It wasn’t.

There was a collection of cushy couches and chairs arranged in the corner by the windows looking
toward the lake, which is where I saw Micah sipping dark liquor from a glass.  He was sitting at the table farthest away from any other patrons.  As I walked in, I observed the significant exchange of looks between Micah and the bartender but saw only caution and ass-covering in it, nothing malicious.  Nervousness, yes, but I didn’t get the impression I was going to end up with a bullet in my back.

Not yet, anyway.

I moved over to Micah without hesitation and took the seat with my back to the windows and at a slight angle next to him.  It was a vulnerable spot, and I chose it on purpose to show him I didn’t give a fuck.  If he had someone positioned outside to kill me, it could have happened from any angle.  It would have been noisy though.  The tourists out front would notice.

Micah
tossed dark blond hair off his forehead with a flick of his fingers as he leaned back in the seat and placed his hands out of sight in his jacket pockets.  I knew he had a gun in there just as I presumed he knew I would have one on me.

Perfectly predictable.

“You gonna play nice?” I asked pointedly.  I let my eyes drop to his right jacket pocket where I knew the gun would be.  He’d been drinking with his right hand, so his gun would be in his right pocket.

“Precautions only,” he replied.

I leaned back casually in the chair, crossed one leg over the other, lit up a smoke, and kept my hands in plain view as I puffed on it.

“There’s no smoking in here,” the bartender called over.

“Really?”  I looked over at him.  “Looks like there is.”

I turned back to Micah, who had the hint of a smile on his face.

“You’re kind of a dick, aren’t you?” he remarked.

“Sometimes.”
  I inhaled again and blew smoke off to the side.  “You ready to hear me out?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

I glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to us any longer and then lowered my voice as I leaned into the table.

“I just got out of MCC,” I said.
  I looked down at the cigarette between my fingers and carefully tucked the lit end against my palm.  I could feel the warmth, but it wasn’t close enough to burn.  I took another hit off of it.

“Yeah, I heard.  You blew up a park.”

I waved the hand holding the cigarette around dismissively.

“All a misunderstanding.
  Parking garage doors shouldn’t be noise violations.  I just showed them the error or their ways.”

“
Heh!  Yeah, right.  You made a fucking public spectacle.”

I tried to appear somewhat contrite.

“Well, and that’s the problem now,” I said.  “That’s how Moretti sees it too.  He’s ticked off, frankly, and wouldn’t even fucking do anything to get me out—just let me rot in there for days.  I’m sick of his shit, and I’m on the hunt for new employment.”

Micah laughed.

“Am I supposed to believe that shit?” he asked.  “From what I hear, you’ve been tight in his org since you came to town.”

“I’m
tight
with a fucking payout,” I corrected.  “He paid the best because he knew he had the best.  That’s where my loyalty resides—with cash in my fucking pocket for a job well done.”

“And now, what?” he asked as he leaned back
against the cushion behind him.  It started to slide a little, and he had to lean forward before he fell over.  “Am I supposed to offer you a contract with my organization?”

“Fuck your piss-ant little
Azerbaijan outfit,” I snarled.  “You can’t fucking afford me.  You might think your family is hot shit in the eastern block, but you’re nothing around here.  However, Gavino Greco has the means to pay me what I’m worth.”

His eyes narrowed, and I hoped I hadn’t tak
en it too far.  I needed him to think I didn’t give a shit about him—only Greco—or I wasn’t going to be able to pull it off.  If I came across as too nice and compliant, he’d know something was up.

“So talk to him,” Micah snapped back.  “What the fuck do you want with me?”

“Well, that’s exactly where you come in,” I informed him.  I inhaled on the cigarette again, watching the red glow warm the center of my palm.  “I need you to arrange a meeting.  Neutral ground—like this place.”

“
Why would I do that for you?”

“Well, ultimately I would say it’s in your best interest.”  I sat back and tossed the cigarette onto the
nicely polished hardwood floor before stomping it out with my boot.  “If I keep working for Moretti, you’re going to move to the top of my list, especially considering your sister is banging his son.  He’s not too thrilled with that, you know.”