BUFF (21 page)

“Don't like it,” he bluntly responds, walking around his leather couch. “The guys know about this?"

“They got nothing to do with this."

“Luis!” Kulich bellows.

Luis comes charging down the stairs still buttoning up his jeans, his shirt still open. “Yeah, Boss.” Luis skitters an anxious look between the two men.

“You know about this? About this fucker leaving?”

Colt comes between the two, his back to Luis. “Luis's got nothing to do with this."

“Answer the question!” Kulich's black glare centers on Luis. “Did you know—”

“N-No, sir. Not at all.” Luis’s voice cracks. “C-Colt and I don't talk about things that're none of my business."

“Is that right?” Kulich moves closer.

“Vladimir.” Colt places a hand on Kulich's shoulder when he sees him step closer. “Leave him alone."

Kulich's hands come up, his mood shifting again, his face lighting up as if he's been caught-off-guard. “You're always are a sucker for bitches."

Colt doesn’t return his sentiment, turning his head halfway. “Leave, Luis."

Grabbing his jacket Luis heads out the front door without another word. Colt and Kulich continue to stare at one another, neither of them backing down.

Colt doesn’t waste time hedging around Kulich's unpredictable mood. “What's wrong with you?"

“I could ask you the same. When did you become Luis's hero?"

Colt doesn’t like his loyalty being questioned from anyone, but he also has to consider the situation. When Kulich acts like this, anything, including his loyalty, is up for question.

“He's done nothing wrong."

“Luis's a little bitch," Kulich scoffs. "I was just playing around."

Staring the man down, Colt replies, "Just leave it be."

“Whatever." Kulich backs away, nearing the stairs. "Think I'll take a shower with the girls." Nodding, Colt continues to watch him. “Make my steak raw, okay? I wanna see it bleed."

“Yeah."

Colt finds his way to the kitchen just as Kulich pauses in the middle of the grand staircase. He eyes Colt as though the wheels in his head are turning. Finally he vanishes from view.

Yeah, Colt is walking on thin ice.

Very thin ice.

*     *     *

THIS WAS SUPPOSED
to be easy. In and out. Erase the problem and wipe away the trail of evidence into nonexistence.

But this one case is fucking everything up. Colt is…

The shrill of the phone cracks like a whip in the empty room and Kulich doesn’t even wait for the first ring to finish. “Yeah?"

“Boss, it's Gino. Just got back from Wentworth Creek, we're on our way back."

“So what've you found?” Kulich asks, peering out the window, his form the only presence and light in the room.

“Well, we tapped into the main database of the warehouse, made a duplicate of Mr. Appleton’s secretary’s computer memory… She, uh, found Colt's private files—pictures."

Kulich bites down, feeling a convulsion of rage steam up in his body, but he remains calm in his delivery. “Hmm. Anything else?"

“Nothing except…"

“What?” he spits out, pushing his fisted hand into his pant pockets.

“Well, while we accessed the memory, a bill came up for a leased minivan under the name Douglas Whitemore. Purchased and received the same week as the files were. The description of the minivan isn’t familiar to anyone when we asked around but get this—it's the same car the cops put out an APB on after the Appletons went missing. Cops found the van two days later in Coastbourne somewhere. We got a hold of the police files and it's identical in license plate and everything to the car seen in front of the Appleton's house the morning they disappeared."

“Really?” Kulich drawls, cupping his chin. “What’d you think that means?"

“Dunno, Boss… Maybe they're up to something."

“Or,” Kulich adds, his voice a deep shake, “maybe someone tipped them off."

There is a long pause before Gino continues, “What'd you want us to do?"

“Get rid of it all. Go to his secretary’s house—you know the rest,” Kulich orders, mechanically, his monotone voice not deviating for a second. "Wait. Did you say the van was in Coastbourne?"

"Yeah."

"That's near Aston, right?"

"Good few hours from there, yeah. Why?"

"Colt has a place in Aston...” He sighs, shaking his head, deep in thought.

“Boss?”

“Stay out of sight for a couple of days. Things are gonna go down. Need clearance. If shit goes down, I'll call."

He clicks the phone off before waiting for Gino's response and presses speed-dial three.

“Roman."

"Find anything?"

"Boss. You ain't gonna fucking believe what I found out."

“COME ON.”
HER LIPS SLIDE
the side of his neck. They're smooth and cool; they'll be very workable under his mouth.

"Where's my beer?” he speaks into the flaming crown of her hair.

The minute he’d strutted into the back entrance she’d taken no time in cornering him. He doesn’t need a guess to figure out why. Her breath rattles, dipping and quivering against his skin. Her zealousness with him is distracting, especially in the way she paws at him in the dark corner of the waiting room. Her body snakes up against his, stretching like a cat begging to be pet.

He should have stopped her the minute her eyes landed on his. But he’s so fucked-up inside he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to when the thought of having his way with her right there, in the corner of a public bar, where everyone will be, is so goddamn enticing. Any other day he would have fucked her by now.

“Tina,” he mutters, “I don't have time for this."

“Another chick?” She kisses below his Adam’s apple. “Come on, Colty, baby. I know you want me." When all he does is sigh, her fingers tip-toe lower, cupping the front of his jeans. “You've always wanted me. I promise she never has to know.”

She kisses the tip of his chin as he removes her hand from its place, shooting her a warning look. He skirts his head to the side when she tries to kiss his chin again. He's losing patience but the woman pressing up against his body seems oblivious. Little does she know that his short temper has nothing to do with her.

Nothing to do with her at all.

“Quit it.” He pulls away, feeling the loss of her warm body. Clipping his words he looks down at her, leaning his head forward to make sure she understands. “I'm. Not. In the mood."

“That's what your mouth says,” she purrs, leaning her stomach against his clenched one. “But that's not what your cock—”

He jerks her hand away from the place it's leading to. “Get the hint."

Finally she yanks her hand from his grasp and he lets go. “You're a fucking cock tease, Colt. You know that?"

She looks as frustrated as he feels. “Does that mean I'm not gonna get my beer?"

“Fuck you.” She makes her way behind the bar before giving him the middle finger. “You think you're some goddamn prize, think again. You act like a fucking Prima-donna when you come around me but I can have any man I want, I swear it. And here you are thinking you're better than everyone here just ‘cos you suddenly got money but I remember you from back in the day and you're just trash in a nice package. Remember that.” She grabs a cigarette from her jeans, placing it between her lips.

His eyebrow flexes up. “You finished?"

“Screw you.” She flips her lighter up.

"You already done that, babe,” he retorts, leaning against the wall behind him. “Beer?"

“I'm on break. Ask someone else."

“You're the only one here. Anyway, I like the way you bring me my beer."

She huffs out a stream of smoke from her nostrils, flicking the end of her cigarette. Small ashes drift to the floor and Colt watches them as she says, “You're one confused motherfucker, you know that? You flirt with me, you act like you want me”—she steps closer—“in fact I know you want me. But something's stopping you...” Her eyes dart in between his, scoping for his reaction, but there is none. “There is, isn't there…? Some slut's got your fucking balls in her hands."

Using the wall he pushes his body forward. “I said I wanted a beer. You can't oblige me, find someone who can. Otherwise mind your own fucking business."

Faltering at hiding her fear Tina places a good foot between them, eyeing the crowd as if he’ll jump her. She tosses the half-smoked cigarette on the floor, mashing it with her stiletto heel.

“Aw, what? Someone's a little too sensitive for their own good. Get in my face again and I'll have you thrown out." Colt only stares at her. “You hear me? You don't fucking talk to me that way, asshole.” Her voice wavers as he moves closer. She turns, is about to call for help when she realizes he isn’t moving in her direction. He struts on by, heading toward the entrance, not sparing her a second glance when he spots his company.

Tina spits out another string of four-letter curses as she reaches for her lighter again. “Bastard,” he hears her mutter, as he heads over to Luis.

“How was Kulich today?" Colt asks, as they exit the roadhouse.

“Better... I guess.” Colt eyes the couple entering the bar when Luis asks, “Where were you? Ain’t heard from you since I saw you two days ago at the penthouse."

“Met with Abruzzi. Cleaning things up before I leave."

“Don't like this. This shit’s getting dangerous."

Colt doesn’t like the panic that set off Luis's words. Panic makes me people mess up.

“You need to calm the fuck down. The heats already off us."

“Kulich is a very suspicious man, Colt. The heats never gonna be off. Not today, not fucking ever. You forget this man can fucking sniff out a lie? I don't like this—"

“Hey.” The one word silences Luis in his place. “You trust me?"

“Yeah, man, that's got nothing to do with this, it's Kulich I don't fucking trust,” Luis replies, his dark eyes bulging. “He knows something."

“Listen to me, everything goes exactly as planned. Cops pushed things back a little but it's still going down just as before."

Nodding, Luis wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, letting a shaky breath out. “I know, I know. I just… Mr. Kulich—we don't exactly get along. Dunno whatever I did but—”

“Kulich is Kulich. Ignore him.”

Barking out a disbelieving snort, Luis ends the laugh with a sigh. “Easier said than done."

Standing there, almost as a bystander to Luis's nerves, Colt peers at his fellow Royal Reaper brother. The smoothness of his voice counters the dull gleam in his eyes. “Need your head in the game, Luis."

“Man, c'mon”—Luis slaps Colt's shoulder—“it's me. I'm here for you, man. Royal Reaper even in death, you know that. And I owe you. A lot." Colt nods, but it falls way short of convinced.

Luis's phone rings and it makes him jump. Taking it out of his pocket he presses the answer button. “Boss?” Luis says, staring at Colt. When Colt doesn’t avert his hard glare, Luis looks away. "Yeah... Okay… I’m about two hours away from you, sir… Yeah, on it, sir… Will do…" Luis hangs up and his eyes skitter around their surroundings, never falling onto Colt.

"What?"

Luis finally looks his way. "Boss wants me."

Colt rubs the back of his head. "Fine. Go. Just play it cool and remember what I told you."

"Yeah, sure, man."

Luis is halfway across the parking-lot when Colt calls out to him. He turns, the jumpy look still very much in place. Luis shuffles a bit forward when Colt doesn’t say anything, just continues staring at him.

“Becky's life is on the line, so is her family.” When Luis automatically shakes his head it only adds to Colt's hidden anger. “Don't fuck with me."

Luis’s only reply is a shake of his head. From the blank look on his face it appears to be the only thing he can manage. Colt's eyes never leave Luis, they are unceasing as Luis mounts his Harley and rides off a little faster than necessary.

Colt has a lot of rethinking to do. About everything. Which means another sleepless night. He can’t afford any slip-ups and if that means he doesn’t sleep till this is over—then so be it. His body and his mind can’t seem to stay in one place without thinking about what he has to do, what’s already been done and what he’s forgotten.

He is so goddamn restless he feels ready to rip his fucking skin off. He watches Luis make the turn that leads to the exit for the highway.

Yeah, he’s going to be up all goddamn night, but first he needs a good, stiff cup of coffee.

*     *     *

HAND IN MID AIR
Luis feels more than a little foolish.

His Royal Reaper brother has given him specific orders of what not to say. Jenson and himself had gone over the mundane checklist at least a hundred times, but Luis still feels completely unprepared. He’s going to mess up somehow. He can feel it in his bones when he pictures Kulich’s black stare dissecting his thin fortress of excuses.

Leaning his thick knuckles on the shiny wood, stalling time is over. This is life or death and Luis has to step up.

His light wrap is heard instantly. It's almost as if Mr. Kulich is waiting for him.

“Yeah, come in," a disgruntled voice calls out.

“Boss.” Luis waves his hand in the air, nods again with a short greeting of a smile.

Kulich is sitting by the fireplace in the corner chair. That’s odd. He never sits there. His back is to Luis, brandy in his hand, but it appears as if it hasn’t been touched. Mr. Kulich is still wearing his burgundy silk robe. The ordinarily meticulous man's hair is disheveled and unkempt, his face weary and worried with lines and dark shadows.

He looks like shit.

Clearing the burn of nerves in his throat that usually accompany Luis when he’s in Mr. Kulich's presence he makes his usual offering, “You need anything, Boss?" Kulich responds with just a glare. “Boss?” Luis tries again, “Want me to get something?"

“Like what?” Kulich asks, his voice is shaky and hoarse like it hasn’t been used in awhile.

“Whatever you need.” He hopes he doesn’t sound rehearsed.

“What I need… is answers." Kulich's voice comes out even lower—deadlier—than before. “Sit down.”

Sitting on a chair nearby the initial cramping of his gut subsides quicker than Luis hopes for. “Thought we’ve been through this, sir.”

“Answers.” The bite in Kulich’s voice raises the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Things went well... Better than expected."

Kulich fingers the stubble on his cheek, eyeing the glass of brandy between his fingers. “You said this already. Details."

Fuck. This is the part he's been dreading.

“Uh, well, we got there and they were on their way out. They had their things packed and everything but we got to them, executed them like you ordered, ransacked the house to make it look like a robbery and brought the bodies to the shop. Cut them up like normal and you know… local dumpster and shit."

“Who killed the girl?” Kulich’s interest borders on the perverted.

“Er... Colt, obviously.” He shrugs when Kulich scowls. “Well, I mean she trusted him the most so he told her to come out back and she listened. She got the family to stay together and not panic and then we, uh, got rid of them."

Kulich downs the half-filled glass of liquor in one gulp, settles it on the edge of the ottoman. “Colt kill her first or last?"

Shit, shit, shit… Colt always kills the person most important… first. Last! No! Oh shit, which is it?

“Last... of course."

Kulich’s chin slants down as he relaxes back into the sofa. “Must've been hard.” He clears his throat. “I can see he had a thing for the girl."

“He did what he had to. You know Colt.”

“Yeah I do know
Colt
—better than you.”

The room is silent and dark. Luis adjusts his collar. He can feel Kulich’s eyes on him, black and wary as they fall over him in a dissecting manner. For the past several minutes Luis tries everything but ripping his own arm off to stop from squirming or asking his boss if something is wrong. He has a guaranteed guess he’ll know the answer.

“You know you need to attain better listening skills, Luis. Maybe Colt can teach you a lesson or something. He hears, he doesn't speak, unless it's absolutely required of him. Colt trusts me; I trust him. And there's nothing he won’t do for me."

Luis isn’t sure what Kulich wants him to say. Nothing will satisfy the man from continuing his berating marathon with him so he prolongs the silence that he thinks Kulich is seeking.

“I mean, look how far he went. Killed that girl… What's her name again?” Kulich pretends to wait and remember. “Rebecca, right? Yeah, Rebecca, the girl with big fucking green eyes. He killed her just because I asked him to. Now that's—that's fucking loyalty right there. Who does that?" Luis shakes his head, stifling the spasm of nausea that barges into his stomach. “Must've been hard for him. I know he doesn't like talking about his
feelings
, but you were there. You saw it. Did he hesitate? 'Cos Colt is not big on hesitating, I mean, c'mon now, she was just a fucking girl. It had to bother him a little, no? You guys got it done smoothly, right? One, two, three? No problems?"

Gulping, Luis musters enough courage to look him straight in the eyes. “Yeah, Boss... just like I told you."

“So there were no problems? Nothing I need to know about?"

“No, sir."

“Good, good... That's what I like to hear.” Kulich smirks, but it doesn’t reach the deadness that enters his eyes. “I got some venison left over in the fridge.” Kulich circles around Luis's chair, slowly. "You want me to heat you up some?"

“Uh, no thanks, Boss.” Luis shakes his head at him. He can’t see where he’s gone to and he doesn’t like the fact that Kulich is roaming around like a hyena about to pounce. “I'm good. Got a few slices about an hour ago."