Dangerous (13 page)

Amy

I put the popcorn on the table and glanced at Ryan with a smirk. To think I’d been bitching about spending my nights with movies and popcorn. Now it was like heaven. The smile soon left my face when I saw the expression on his.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, flopping down beside him.

He glanced at me as if he was looking at me in deep water—seeing but not really seeing.

I felt my heart flip-flop. There was something up with him. Or so I thought—I mean, it had only been around a month since we met…

But it didn’t seem that way. It seemed like we were inseparable—it felt like I’d known him my whole life. We could barely keep our hands off each other—that was the main reason for all of the cozy nights in—it was way more convenient to tear each other’s clothing off in the privacy of Ryan’s apartment than it was to do it in a movie theater or in a bar. Plus, there was virtually zero chance of being arrested on public nudity. Major bonus.

Ryan continued staring at the screen. I divided my attention fifty-fifty between the movie and his rugged side-profile. But I couldn’t leave it be.

“Is it that work stuff? The problems you were telling me about?”

He turned his head to me slowly, as if the slight movement took a huge effort. He shook his head.

I turned my attention back on the movie we were watching, even though I’d seen it several times before. But I kept picturing myself sitting alone waiting for Ben to come home, wondering if he was with another girl. Wondering if she was slimmer than me; hotter; smarter. I shook my head.

Why was I thinking like that when I was sitting beside the hottest guy in the world? I shuffled closer to him, leaning my head on his arm. I glanced up at his side profile and my heart twanged. He was the best sex in my life. And underneath his cool, hard-ass demeanor, he was a really funny guy. But there was a distance between us—I knew I wasn’t just imagining it.

I felt his eyes on me. I looked at him, willing myself to ask him what was up.

“Yeah,” he said, watching me carefully. “It’s work stuff.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, leaving me to watch the rest of the movie only half paying attention. Part of me was relieved, a smaller part uneasy.

“Anything I can help with?” I asked when he hadn’t spoken for several minutes.

He turned to me, a wary look on his face.

“You don’t have to tell me specifics. Just if you want to vent is all.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’ll sort it.”

He reached over and squeezed my shoulder tightly, pulling me to him and crushing my face against him. He was smiling at me almost tenderly. I thought I saw a flash of something else in his eyes, a strange intensity. But for once I managed to successfully tell my inner critic to shut the fuck up. I relaxed against him, feeling his slow rhythmic heartbeat vibrate against my cheekbone.

Ryan

I pushed open the door of the restaurant on 12
th
and froze. I smelled her. It must have been a trace of her perfume on my clothes. But it didn’t feel right. Not there. I shook my head and forced myself to continue into the bar. Of all places to hesitate and think about the situation, this was the worst place I could have chosen.

It didn’t help that it was a total mindfuck. I still couldn’t imagine what in the hell she’d done to get involved with one of the most notoriously sadistic fucks in the city. I mean, I’d never met the guy before, but his reputation was well-known. Well, by everyone apart from the police, who seemed completely unaware of him. That was always a dangerous sign of deep pockets and ties higher up in the chain of command.

Of course, there were good cops too. I knew that. My brother was one of them. But I was under no illusion that there were bad ones. Extremely bad. Worse than any criminal in max security. They operated above the law. No one could touch them.

“Kane.”

I glanced up to see who had called me by my working name. A man walked along the gloomy corridor toward me. It was a strange set-up for a bar—most places, you walked in the door and found yourself in the bar. This one was laid out like an old house, where you had to walk past a series of closed doors to get to the bar area. But I didn’t have time to take in my surroundings.

“Our friend told me you wanted to see me,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

I was suddenly glad of the darkness. If this fucker was as much of a criminal mastermind as everyone said, then I had no doubt his instincts were second to none. And I didn’t want him sensing that I wanted to tear his throat out with my bare hands.

He nodded, holding out a hand. Bile rose up in my chest as I forced myself to take it in mine and shake it firmly. Had this hand touched her? No doubt it had. This clammy, cold hand. I had to consciously stop myself from squeezing until his fingers broke. This was his territory—he’d have armed heavies on me within seconds if I tried anything that foolish. That’s not to say it was easy to hold back.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” I said, breaking the silence and trying to distract myself.

I didn’t give a fuck about his bar. All I wanted was to sort out our business for once and for all.

He nodded, a smug smile on his face. “My father gave it to me. He was given it in return for a debt he cleared. I don’t get to spend as much time here as I’d like—I’ve got another business in the financial district.”

I watched him as he glanced around the hallway, clearly impressed at his own good fortune. He seemed so unremarkable—not thin, not overweight. Medium height. I wondered again how he’d met her. I had to stop myself—I knew I’d lose the little control I had if I dwelt on it.

“So what can I help you with? I have to say, this is unusual.”

He looked confused for a moment, then his features ironed out to the blank look that seemed to be his default. That’s the thing that surprised me—I had expected him to be careless and sloppy based on my dealings with him through Max. I had built him into some sort of caricature in my mind—the risk with that was underestimating how dangerous he truly was.

“Let’s go to the bar. We can talk in comfort.”

I nodded and followed him along the corridor, glad of a few seconds’ respite to rearrange my features and get a hold of myself. I’d never been so agitated before.

The bar was small; smaller than I’d expected. There was an old-fashioned wooden counter in the corner and three booths lined up against the wall opposite the door. That was it, apart from a few tables spread around the small room.

“So,” he smiled, leading me to the booth farthest from the door and gesturing for me to sit. I sat in the side facing the bar, glancing cautiously at the suited man working behind it.

He followed my gaze. “Oh don’t worry about him. He’s one of my guys.”

Where were the others? I wondered. Hidden in the other rooms? In the ceiling? Or was that his trick, the Soldier’s—to travel light? I didn’t know, but I had a sinking feeling that I’d find out real soon.

Two glasses of amber liquid appeared on our table as if from nowhere. I had to hand it to him—he knew how to find good bar staff. That was how they should be—anonymous and discreet. Not like the damn fool in Tully’s. Though I guessed this guy wasn’t just a bartender, not when his boss was the Soldier.

“You must be wondering why I’ve asked you here.”

I took a sip and grimaced, holding the whisky on my tongue and relishing the honeyed oaky flavor until it started to burn. “Yes,” I murmured. “It’s unusual.”

He looked nonplussed. “It is. It is.” He took a sip. “And that’s why I called in the professionals.”

“Very wise.”

He smiled at me like I was something on the bottom of his shoe and I couldn’t help but hate him even more. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? He thought a crummy bar and a finance house, both of which were thinly-veiled fronts made him a cut above? I glanced around the bar, cringing at the sight of expensive, pretentious fittings. It was an old townhouse, but the room had been remodeled to look like some kind of English tavern. He’d thrown a hell of a lot of cash at it. Maybe he really believed he was a straight, honest businessman.

I squeezed my glass so hard that for a moment I was afraid the glass was going to shatter in my fingers. I could look down on him all I wanted, but the fact was, Amy had chosen him once. That was one reason I wanted to kill him, sure. But there were many others.

“I’m not usually in the business of killing women, Mr.…”

He snorted. “Knight. You’re a gentleman then.”

God, I hated this sonofabitch. He couldn’t open his mouth without sneering sarcasm flowing out. The worst part? I saw the truth in his words. What kind of fool was I, pretending to have some sort of honor when I did what I did for a living? Suddenly I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could.

“Well, whatever. We all have our vices.”

He nodded. “Now you’re getting somewhere.” He glanced around the bar before reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out an envelope.

I held out my hand, immediately irritated. There was no way that envelope contained my usual fifty percent deposit.

“I think you’re a bit short,” I said without even bothering to open the envelope to count.

His smile was about as warm as a snake’s. “Don’t worry, Kane. I’m not trying to short-change you. It’s your usual retainer.”

I shook my head. “My usual retainer is fifty percent.”

“Yeah, well. This is a lot more than your normal rate.”

I leaned across the table, conscious of the need to keep my tone light and friendly. “You set the rate. I wouldn’t have taken the job if it wasn’t that high.”

He sat back against the wooden seat, unfazed.

I watched in disbelief as he reached into his pocket and pulled out another envelope, handing it to me without saying another word. I wanted to throw both the envelopes on the table right then and walk out. But I couldn’t. If anyone was doing this job it was gonna be me.

“Thanks.”

I pushed against the table and stood to leave before remembering why I was meeting the client face-to-face. I sat back down.

“You didn’t just ask me here to pass me the cash.”

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t.” He leaned across the table and fixed me with his pale blue eyes. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

I wanted so hard to roll my eyes. Dangerous as he was, this guy had obviously spent a lot of time watching mafia movies. Instead, I bit my tongue and looked at him seriously.

“This needs to be done right. We’ve had one… ah… mix-up already. If there’s another, the cops will be all over it.”

That made sense. Whichever cop or cops he had managed to get on his payroll obviously weren’t of a high enough rank to make another attack disappear. But I couldn’t help but be offended by the suggestion.

“I have a one hundred percent success rate. I believe you know that; otherwise why would you have gone to all that effort to find me?”

He rolled his eyes and I got the feeling that he thought all of this was beneath him. “Whatever. I’m paying you a lot of money. I can tell you whatever I want to tell you.”

I clenched my teeth together. This guy sure grated on my nerves. “I’ll be thorough. Is that all?”

He nodded and flicked his arm, revealing a Rolex. “I’ll walk with you. I’ve got a meeting across town in a half hour.”

I followed him out the way we’d come, still wondering why the fuck he’d sent for me. It was completely unnecessary. And it wasn’t as if I’d gained anything new and insightful from the meeting either. I slammed the door closed behind us, and before I knew it, the question was out.

“Who is she then? A dealer? Or an ex?”

He whirled around and looked at me curiously. I knew exactly why—in my profession, it paid to be discreet. It’s not exactly dinner table conversation to ask the client’s relationship to the target.

The Soldier grinned sadistically and reached up to pat my shoulder even though I had a good six inches on him. “The help knows what the help needs to know.”

I shrugged. “Fine by me. It’s none of my business anyway.”

He turned and walked on, but I’d obviously set off a memory for him. He reached for the closed front door.

“Too smart for a bitch. Saw things she shouldn’t. Great fuck, though.”

I felt my vision lurch like I was on a boat. I opened my mouth to answer him, but my pulse was pounding hard in my ears. Pure rage rose up inside me; luckily, I managed to hold on to a shred of composure.

“Where’s your men’s room?” I muttered, looking back along the corridor of closed doors. I needed to get away from this fuckwad before I did something I’d regret.

He turned back, annoyance flickering across his moisturized face.

“You could have gone before we left,” he whined.

Usually, I would have found that funny—a violent gangster nagging like a suburban mom. But I had bigger things to think about—like not killing the asshole with my bare hands.

I turned and walked back along the corridor, not trusting myself to stay there a moment longer.

“It’s the last door on the right,” he called back.

I kicked open the door and leaned against the cool white tiles. It had been years since I’d felt my control slip. Now in the space of a couple weeks it had happened several times. Even once would be too many for my liking. I ran the tap and splashed some water on my face.

It was an impossible situation—no matter what path I chose, it all led to the same place. Ruin. Loss. Death. I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

Reluctantly I left the room. I mean, I couldn’t stay in there forever. I shuffled down the corridor, noticing the framed old photos on the walls. I opened the door and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, hoping he’d already left for his meeting. But he hadn’t.

“Good of you to join me,” he snarled.

“What did you want me to do? Piss on your shoes?”

He glanced down at his crocodile loafers with a look of pure anxiety in his face and I felt a rare burst of satisfaction.

It didn’t last long. He finished his smoke and threw the butt on the sidewalk, grinding it with his heel until it was a torn up mess.

“Kane,” he said, blowing a long stream of smoke in my direction.

I glanced away. It was busy for that time of day, and I couldn’t help but think of Amy, wherever she was. I wondered for the millionth time why I couldn’t have gone and gotten an honest job like hers. But it was too late now. Far too late.

I’d zoned out so much I almost didn’t hear his next words. God, I wish I hadn’t.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours.”