Sly (12 page)

“You talk an awful lot about what you do. From where I sit, you haven’t done a damn thing. I want Cullinan dead. Yesterday.”
 

 I leaned back in my chair and raised a brow at Kagan. “It takes time. You need to be patient and let me work.”
 

Kagan set his jaw. “I think you need a deadline. And you need to know what happens if you don’t meet it,” he said, resting his upper lip on his finger as he looked out the far window.
 

“I don’t do deadlines. And I don’t worry about fallout after the job’s done. That’s strictly your problem. I do one thing, I do it extremely well, but that’s it. Take it or leave it.”
 

“You spent the night with him the other night.” It was a statement, not a question.
 

“So?” There was no point in lying. If Kagan didn’t have people watching me, he more than likely had them watching Sly.
 

Kagan reached over and grabbed my wrist. I took a steadying breath. I could break his nose with my other hand in two seconds, but that would escalate things in this car to a point that might get very messy, very fast. “So I need to make sure that you’re still in the game with this
one, Scarlett. Your partner fucked things up. I want to make sure you don’t fuck them up even worse. Like I said, I don’t give two shits if you want to get off with him before you do it. But you
will
do it.”
 

“I need two weeks, tops,” I heard myself say. But it was some other part of my brain taking over. I didn’t want this. Didn’t want an ultimatum. Didn’t want to let a client dictate how I carried out a job. It was bad for business. I couldn’t understand exactly what was happening. I was stalling. This should be clean. This should be over. Sly himself had given me the perfect opportunity to finish this job and would do so again tonight.
 

“Or what?”
 

“Two weeks and you stay the hell out of my way,” I repeated, my heart racing. “It’ll get done and it’ll get done right. But you cannot, and I mean
cannot,
approach me like this again. At this rate, Cullinan’s people are bound to figure out you’re involved.”
 

Kagan’s face split into a smile, revealing a straight row of nicotine-stained teeth. He loosened his grip on my arm and I drew it back.
 

“Oh, I’ll give you your two weeks. But we’re going to keep in touch. You think I don’t know how to keep a tail on you or him without raising suspicion?”
 

I rolled my eyes. “It’s like you’re purposely trying to get in the way of your own hit, Kagan.”
 

“Did that attitude of yours run in the family?” He picked at a nail then looked out the window. My heart raced and I focused on keeping my breathing even.
 

“Your brother, I mean,” he said turning to level those cold eyes at me. My pulse pounded in my ears and I tightened my grip on the outline of my gun. “You know there aren’t any secrets when you’re dealing with clubs like mine. Word gets around. That was some seriously fucked-up shit that happened to him. I can’t say for sure I’d play it that way.”
 

I knew what he was doing. He wanted to bait me into admitting the Red Brigands had gotten the best of Mickey. If I lost my cool and admitted to him what happened after that, I could put myself in real jeopardy from him and the Red Brigands. By all accounts, they were rivals, but that didn’t mean Kagan wouldn’t be willing to turn me over to them if it suited him.
 

“You know, I don’t normally give a shit why a client wants a mark taken out. That’s your business. But you seem more invested than most. What’s your angle, Kagan? Is it just some personal beef with Cullinan? I get that, that’s fine. But I sense you’ve got some bigger move at stake.”
 

Kagan shifted; his eyes dropped and it was enough for me to know I’d hit something. “That’s not for you to worry your pretty little head over.”
 

“You want his business? Is that it? That’d be a pretty sweet deal for you. The gyms? The fighters? With control of stuff like that, you could front a lot, couldn’t you?”
 

Kagan glowered at me and I pressed my advantage. “I thought so. So taking Cullinan out isn’t some straight revenge play. It’s not an eye for an eye. Hmm. That’s different. So you want to destabilize his whole organization.” I tapped my temple with my finger. “Smart. You’re smart. I can respect that. I can also work with that. You give me some time, you’ll have your hit. Maybe I’ll also have some inside information that might be worth something to you.”
 

Kagan’s face split into a wide smile. “Don’t think too much, sweetheart, you’ll hurt yourself.”
 

Insults now. It was enough to let me know I’d hit the nail on it. Cullinan was a means to an end to this guy. I didn’t know how or why that might be important later. But if it was enough to let me stall for some time, it seemed important to exploit it.
 

“He likes me, you know. Cullinan. If you want to know what I find out, I can make that happen. It’ll cost you, but maybe it’s worth it to you.”
 

“And all this time you’ve been bitching that you do one job and you do it well. Change of heart, sweetheart?”
 

I just smiled at him. “All right,” he said. “You talk a good game. But don’t think for a second I don’t know that’s what you’re doing. Two weeks. That’s all you get. And in three days, if he’s still breathing, I want a status report.”
 

I nodded. “You know my number.”
 

“Oh no. Face to face. Three days. You won’t know where, you won’t know when. I like to keep my freelancers on their toes.”
 

“Fine,” I said, though it was far from fine. The sooner Bruce Kagan and the Devil’s Hawks were out of my life, the better. But I was beginning to think the cost of that might end up being more than I was willing to pay.
 

The car came to a halt and Kagan waved toward the door. As I stepped out, he leaned over and flashed me that ugly smile again.
 

You too, asshole
, I wanted to say. Instead, I flashed him my own smile and my middle finger. Kagan laughed until he coughed and then he drove away.
 

Chapter Eleven

I kept my cowboy boots and jeans on. I traded my t-shirt for a shimmering black halter top. A risk. It meant I couldn’t keep my gun tucked behind me the way that I liked. Would I put a bullet between Sly’s eyes tonight anyway? That would be the cleanest option. In the end, it’s what Kagan was paying me to do. Never mind my ridiculous play for more time and offer to feed him information. If I killed Sly, I’d get my money, I’d get the hell out of Green Bluff and never look back. So why did the thought of watching the life go out of those deep baby blues of his make a ball of acid form in my center?
 

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the door jiggled and I went for my gun. Too slow. Maybe I was slipping. The door swung wide and Lewis stepped in.
 

“For shit’s sake, Lewis.” I slapped my hand on the top of the dresser and leaned over to catch my breath. My heart hammered behind my rib cage. “You trying to get your head blown off? What the hell are you doing here anyway?”
 

Lewis’s eyes flashed. He didn’t look right. His black hair stuck out in wild peaks and the buttons on his dress shirt weren’t matched.
 

“I got a call,” he said.
 

I tapped my hand on the dresser. “And?”
 

“I need my money, Scarlett. Today. Why the hell are we still in Green Bluff?”
 

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my purse. I pulled out a tube of red lipstick and leaned toward the mirror to apply it. “We,” I snapped the cap on the tube and shoved it back in my purse. “There’s no ‘we’ right now, Lewis. You dragged me out here for this. You’re supposed to be cooling your heels waiting for me. I told you I had this one under control.”
 

“It’s been three days.”
 

I nodded. “I know. Your Mr. Kagan wants some specials. Don’t ask me why. I’m doing what you wanted. I’m finishing the job.”
 

“Tonight?” Lewis came at me then. He wavered when he walked and I damn near got a contact high from standing so close.
 

“Jesus, Lewis. You’re baked. What’s the matter with you?”
 

He put his hands on my shoulders, causing my spine to crunch from the weight of him. “You gotta pull this one off, Scarlett. We need this.”
 

I knew that look of desperation in his eyes. Lewis only got like this when he was depressed. He only got depressed when he owed a shit ton of money to his bookie. As usual, my ability to finish jobs he started was his game plan for getting right. Only this time, I wasn’t planning on sharing more than the ten thousand I promised him. I was done shouldering Lewis. I’d done it for five years in honor of my brother. Mickey and Lewis had been closer in some ways than Mickey and I had been. And Lewis had been different when Mickey was around. I
thought I could hold him together after Mickey’s murder, but I couldn’t. After this though, I figured we were square. Let Lewis Boyd stand or fall on his own merits. I was done.
 

I pushed Lewis off me and he landed hard on the bed. His eyes went in and out of focus before he keeled over slowly like a falling tree, already snoring on the way down.
 

There was a soft knock at the door and my heart fluttered. Other than Kagan and his men, only one other person knew how to find me here. I pulled out my phone: 6:59. He was nothing if not prompt.
 

“Shit, Lewis!” No way I could give Sly a credible explanation as to why another man was passed out on my bed. He might think it suspicious as hell, but I was going to have to answer the door and leave the room without letting him in.
 

I peered through the keyhole. Sly leaned against the hood of the nearest car, his thumb resting casually through his belt loop. His head was cast down, slightly to the side. God, he was a beautiful man, no question about it. Beautiful and brutal. He dressed casual, like me, in a pair of jeans that hugged his ass, a gray t-shirt with the Great Wolves Gym logo across his chiseled chest, the sleeves stretched over his tanned biceps. He’d left his cut at home and part of me missed seeing it on him.
 

I threw my purse over my shoulder and stepped outside, never opening the door more than a crack. Sly’s eyes lit up when he saw me and he pushed himself off the car hood and came to me. He put a thumb on my chin and tilted my head to the side. Before I could say anything, before I could even breathe, his lips were on mine.
 

It took only a few seconds, but when Sly threaded his fingers through my hair and slid his hand to the small of my back, my body heat kicked up a notch and I could already feel the strong, slow pull that started in my core and radiated out, causing my sex to throb. He acted on me just like a drug. I couldn’t get enough, no matter how dangerous it all was.
 

“You’re sexy as hell,” he whispered against my forehead. “You know that?”
 

“So are you.” I laid a hand flat against his chest and wound my hands into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, drawing him to me for another perfect kiss. A black widow’s kiss.
 

“We better get out of here or I’m going to end up busting that door in and we’ll spend another six hours in your bed. Which, I’ll admit, sounds pretty damn good, but I also want to spend time with you in other places.”
 

I laughed. “I’m flattered. So what’s the plan?”
 

Sly slipped an arm around my shoulders and headed toward a large black Hummer. The license plate read “GWG1.”
 

“No helmets required tonight?” I found myself a little disappointed at that too. Something about straddling Sly’s Harley and wrapping my arms around his waist had another drug-like appeal to me.
 

He opened the passenger door for me and offered a hand to help me up. I waved it off and climbed into the seat. He came around and hopped into the driver’s seat, putting a hand across my shoulders as he backed up.
 

“No helmets required,” he finally answered. “Though I sure as hell enjoyed banging your head against the headboard yesterday. Maybe we’ll get to that again later, but I promised you a real date, first.”
 

I set my small black purse on the floor, tucking it between my feet. I could feel the barrel of my gun against my ankle.  We drove about six miles out of town. He turned down a winding road; at the end of it, a flat screen loomed. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He hadn’t been kidding.
 

“An honest-to-God drive-in movie theatre?”
 

He slowed the car as we came to a small square building at the entrance. An attendant came out.
 

“Hey, Gus!” Sly called out. Gus looked to be about eighty, with a shuffling gait and arms and legs that bowed out. He had a wisp of white hair on the top of his head. He reached a shaking hand out and took Sly’s hand through the car window, thumping up and down.
 

“Good to see you, pecker head,” Gus said and I couldn’t help but snort a laugh. Gus caught my eye and winked. He had a charming smile that lit up his craggy face. He kept Sly’s hand in his and pumped it.
 

“What was last night’s take?” Sly asked.
 

Gus finally let Sly’s hand go and batted a hand at him. “You’ve got no manners. You think I’m gonna cheat ya?”
 

“I don’t know, Gus, I’ve learned to keep my eye on you.”
 

Gus raised a bushy white brow and leaned into the car window. “Forgive this pecker head’s manners.” He reached across Sly and extended a hand. I shook it. His skin was crepe paper thin, but his grip was strong.