Never Kiss a Bad Boy (41 page)

K
ite's apartment was quiet. No one was inside, I knew that.

I'd seen them both minutes ago, stretched out and unconscious. It had been tempting to remain with them, testing Kite's promise about my nightmares; that he'd let me stay at his side, even if I woke at the worst hours with wretched sobs.

I wanted to see it become real.

I thought I never would, now.

Softly, like the apartment deserved respect, I padded through it. Changing into clean clothes was fast. Entering Kite's bedroom was faster.

Bending by the side of his bed, I traced the outline of the secret panel. It came off, the gun inside waving like an old friend. It felt warm to me, part of my own flesh and blood. It would serve me tonight.

The money was an afterthought, but I took some. It had a use, money always did. I wanted to be prepared. Whatever was coming, tonight or otherwise, I didn't have the luxury of mistakes.

Replacing everything, I tied my hair back as I headed to the front room.

Earlier, Kite had run into me on the street. It had shocked me, but not because seeing him was frightening.

Though, once, it had been. When had that changed?

No, what I'd been worried about was that he'd look into my face and I'd give up my ruse.

I was carrying on me the one thing him and Jacob kept obsessing over.

Peeling open my purse, I lifted the envelope free. Setting it on the kitchen counter, I thought I'd feel more... nervous. I was giving them the ultimate power. The two of them could erase me now and, knowing their skills, remove every sign that they were ever involved.

But actually, giving that letter up, I felt my shackles fall away.

Tension that had knotted in my heart melted. I'd told Kite I'd give this to him if I suspected I might be walking into Death's arms.

But that wasn't why I'd taken it from the bank this morning.

Pushing a hand to my throat, I slid it down, hugging myself tight. Their safety—their future—had become important to me. I cared about these assassins. Right in my atoms and molecules, right down to my very existence, I was determined not to let them be punished for my actions.

My flesh was tired, my mind was powered by determination. They'd been so drained after what we'd done, Kite hadn't heard me digging in his discarded jeans.

The key to his car cut into my palm when I reached the garage. This was my least favorite decision so far. Stealing his Mercedes was shitty, but I wasn't going to leave myself in a bind.

I was setting myself up to end this on my own. Public transportation? Please. If that was what fucked me over, I'd be a poor killer in the making.

In the silent bubble of that car, I slid out the napkin that carried all the secrets I'd been chasing. My phone was cool as I dialed the number. I was breathing tightly by the third ring—on the fourth, I was clammy.

The ringing died. “Yo,” Juice said, “What's up?”

Shutting my eyes, I leaned back in the seat. “It's me, Melony.” I licked my lips, burning with adrenaline. “I need to see you.”

“Whoa, eager,” he laughed. “Uh, sure. Let me give you my address.”

Revving the engine, I balanced the phone between my shoulder and ear. I was halfway down the street before we ended the call, his directions crisp in my brain. No music, no wind, I did nothing but crush the wheel and stare out the window.

Focus was the word of the moment.

He didn't live that far. Pulling down a side street to hide the car, I held my purse close and jogged to Juice's apartment. I could see him sitting on the front step, a cigarette lighting up his hard cheekbones.

He jumped up the second he saw me. “Hey girl, I didn't think you'd call so soon.”

Wasting no time, I closed the gap between us. “I need you to tell me about Frank Montego and his nephew.”

Juice balked, looking around as if he'd spot hidden cameras. “What the fuck? Come on, I thought maybe you and I could get to know each other first.”

Unzipping my purse, I yanked out a wad of cash. I didn't even know how much it was. “You wouldn't talk earlier. Will this help?”

Staring at the money, the kid's jaw fell open. “Shit, girl. You're not playing around.”

“No,” I agreed. “I'm not.”

Chewing his thin lips, Juice reached out and took the money. He flipped the edges, going from upset to paranoid in a blink. “Why do you want to know about Frankie?”

I considered lying. The fuzzy numbness was taking over, I was starting to feel invincible again. “He helped kill my family,” I said. The familiar horror entered his eyes. “I'm looking for someone close to him. You said Hecko was his nephew, and dead?”

“Right. Super dead. Word is he choked on his own vomit. Nasty, huh?” Juice smiled feebly. His tough act was just that, an act. Part of him clearly cared that this Hecko guy was gone.  “Sorry about your... you know.”

I shook my head. “Don't be sorry, just tell me something I can use. I'm trying to find the guy who worked with Frankie. This was sixteen years back.”

“Man, I wouldn't know.” His shrug was exaggerated. “Actually, that guy Dennis brought up something similar.”

A tiny flash of joy filled me. Jacob
had
been trying to find information for me. It was immensely satisfying to hear it from someone else. “You couldn't help him?”

“Nah. We were both pissed off that night, we were just chatting. I don't think he was really looking for anyone. Listen, this happened a long time ago. I would've been a kid.” He lowered a hand to his knee, indicating an invisible child. “I wouldn't know about this. Frankie sold coke to me, that was all. He hung around lots of people. I'm good with faces, but that's too many for me to remember.”

The knowledge that this guy was, or used to be, a drug dealer didn't phase me. That he hung
out
with Frankie the Razor? Frank the monster who had killed my family?

That info didn't swallow easy.

“Alright, okay. What if...” Furrowing my eyebrows, I dug into my purse again. It was my magic bag of tricks tonight. The twinkle in Juice's eye said he thought I had more money for him. Instead, I slid out the photo I'd been keeping at my side since Jacob had handed it over. “Maybe seeing him would jog your memory?”

In front of me, Juice's eyes boggled. I thought he'd drop the cash and just run. “Holy shit,” he whispered. He studied me with new respect—or was that disbelief? “You're looking for
Lars Diani?
”

A rubber band snapped in my chest.

Lars Diani.

The roof of my mouth trapped my tongue. “Is that his name? This guy, are you sure?”

“Fuck, yeah. That's his ugly mug.”

It was finally happening. I knew his fucking name.

Lars Diani.

He was going to die.

Trembling, I jammed the photo away. I wasn't careful, it crinkled and tore. I didn't care at all. “Lars Diani. His name is Lars Diani.”

“Uh, yeah. You okay?”

I realized I was smiling. I looked insane, but that was fine. “Juice, can you tell me where I can find him?”

“Like, right now, or in general?”

My stomach dropped through my feet. “You know where he is right now?” Could my luck be this good?

Itching nervously at his cheek, he tucked the money away and lifted a palm. “Okay, so look. I'll tell you where he is, but you need to let me know you'll never,
ever
, say you heard anything from me. I'm out of this life, I'm moving on. I won't be the next body found in an alley.”

Everything was reverberating, even my teeth. Looking at his hand, I slid more money into it. The number of things I owed Kite an apology for was growing. It'd be nice to get a chance to make it up to him. “My lips are zipped. Now tell me, please.”

Juice rocked on his heels. His dilemma was nothing compared to mine, and apparently, nothing compared to his greed. “Tonight is Hecko's wake. I was thinking of paying my respects, but now... I might hang back. Visit his grave later, or something.” The kid pulled his thick sweater around tighter. “It's happening on the corner of Smith and Pine. Open door, anyone can pay their respects. Word is Lars will be there. Those mafia types, they think of everyone close to them as family.”

“Thank you,” I said, and to both our surprises, I gave him a hug.

It was spontaneous, over so fast he was left standing with his arms lifted at his sides.

He'd opened the path to my redemption. I was incredibly grateful to him.

Through the chilly night, I sprinted to Kite's car and climbed in.

I had a wake to catch.

****

T
he place was exactly where Juice had said. A stubby building, hard stone and soft yellow lights. The front door was wide open, allowing people to mill in or out. Whoever Hecko had been, he seemed to have a large family.

Sitting in Kite's car, I peered through the windshield and just... waited. I didn't know what to expect, I'd never been so close to the confrontation I'd been envisioning for years. I'd expected that Juice would give me something to go off of. It could have taken days or weeks, but no.

Here I was, waiting for Lars to appear like I'd rolled out the red carpet.

Perhaps karma did exist.

Everyone wore black; suits, dresses, you name it. They funneled into the building or hovered by the edges. It reminded me oddly of the charity ball, when I'd stood in the garden with Kite.

The night they'd both spun me in their arms.
Don't think about either of them.

Fidgeting, I reached for my purse. I needed to do something to stay busy. Holding the pistol, brushing the suppressor, I mulled over Kite's advice.
Unless you yourself load in the clip, always check.

Pulling the bolt of the Ruger back, I stared into the chamber and scowled. Ejecting the clip, I confirmed my suspicion.
Only three bullets? Shit!
It was good I'd checked, but if I'd looked earlier, I could have grabbed extra ammo.
I'll have to make sure the shot is close. I can't risk missing.

Condensation had begun fogging the windows. Even so, I still saw him when he appeared.

The car that pulled onto the street was fancy. Rich midnight blue, the kind of model you saw on television but rarely in real life. The driver's side cranked open, spitting the putrid monster I'd had nightmares about into the street.

Lars Diani.

Having a name to put to him was amazing. My memory had been spot on; thick shoulders, trunk arms, and a chest so wide I was sure his suit was custom made. His piggy eyes glistened, settling on the doorway to the wake.

There was sweat on my palms. Everything was slick and hot.
Calm down, you can't shoot him yet. You'll never hit him.
The time I'd missed Kite when we'd played paintball was a sobering reminder.

Telling myself this didn't keep me from crushing the Ruger until my fingers ached.

Lars made it to the building, the lights casting a long shadow behind him. The people standing outside greeted him, many shaking his hand and looking delighted. Didn't they know what kind of demon he was?

Shoving the gun into my bag, I jumped from the car. Letting Lars leave my line of sight was giving me anxiety. Call me obsessed, I wouldn't argue it, but the man I wanted dead was here,
right here.

I wasn't about to let him vanish.

No one said anything to me as I walked by them. They kept smoking, a glance or two tossed at me.
Act natural,
I told myself. In the interior, there was a long table covered in flowers. A giant poster-board with a young man's face was smiling at nothing.

His hair was mossy green, teeth unnaturally white. The scrawled, elegant writing below said: Hector Mafaso, Gone But Not Forgotten.

There were voices rumbling gently down the hall. I stopped, staring at the photo again.
So this is Hecko.
I didn't see the resemblance to Frank. I'd expected his last name to be Montego, too. It must mean Frank had a sister, someone who'd married and taken another man's surname.

Juice said he died in an alley. I wonder how?
Abruptly, I recalled the news the other day. I'd seen them talking about this! It was unsettling to connect the two events.

Hoisting my purse, my tongue started to tingle as I entered the main room. It was full of people, grouped up and chatting, some of them in tears. I was out of place and I knew it, but the fear I had was being overrun by my determination.

Lars was bent over a woman, holding her hands and speaking softly. She didn't look pleased to see him. Those tight lips and narrowed eyes made it clear.

“He was a good boy,” Lars said. He kept patting her hands, making a show of comforting her.

The woman forced a smile so jagged it made me pull up short. I stayed where I was, backing up until I hit the nearest wall. I could watch from here, hopefully I'd be ignored.

Briskly, she pulled her arms to her sides. “Yes. He
was
. Good of you to make it tonight, Lars. I take it you're back in town, then?”

Lars chuckled. I saw his teeth, the filling that replaced the gap I'd committed to memory. “Not quite. Did you miss me already, Janice?”

“I just wanted to know if I should start locking my doors at night,” she said, still with her sugar-sweet grin.

Adjusting his tie, Lars lowered his tone. I could barely hear him. “You should always lock your doors. I hope you're not implying you're worried something will happen to you.”

Janice turned her body away, a subtle motion. “My brother, my son. It happens in threes.”

“I had nothing to do with Hector's death, or Frank's.”

Her lips curled so high that the ruby lipstick reminded me of a snarling animal. “I'll take your advice and lock my doors, just the same.” She left him, migrating into the safety of another circle of people who welcomed her.

The swell of emotion in me was hard to handle.
That was Hecko's mom. Frank's sister.
This woman was related to the man I'd watched slice up my loved ones with an X-Acto blade. A man I'd wanted gone and had been lucky enough to witness dying on a sunny day in the park.

I should have hated her for the connection, but all I felt was sympathy. Loss was my old friend. Her son was dead, she wasn't to blame for my past.