Roderick

by Gadziala, Jessica

  Her skin was on the light side considering she was Latina. I couldn't help but wonder if it was winter, if she would golden up in the spring and summer months.

  "You're lost," she declared immediately, putting her arm up, hand grabbing the jamb, taking up space, making it clear she had no intentions of being pushed around even if that were my intention. Despite the short shorts and tank top that didn't exactly instill fear.

  "Actually, Liv, I'm not. You have something that belongs to me."

  Her dark eyes flickered with something I didn't know her well enough to interpret.

  "If that's the case, you're not getting it back. So you can still leave."

  "I'm afraid I am going to need my guns back, mami," I told her, shrugging.

  At that, her body stiffened inch by inch.

  "Oh, a Henchmen. How did you find me?" she asked, her hand closing on the door handle harder, almost as though she was preparing to whack me in the face with it.

  Which, well, maybe she was.

  "We have people."

  "You have Hailstorm," she corrected, chin angling up a bit.

  "We do. So when I say it's probably best just to give me back what you stole from me, it is probably an understatement."

  "Can't give you back what I have already sold. sorry, bud."

  "Bud?" I shot back, chuckling.

  "You need to leave."

  "See, now... I can't do that. I'm not leaving, in fact, until I get those guns back."

  "I just told you I don't have them."

  "I'm not saying I need those exact guns back, but I need ones just like it, princess. And I'm afraid I can't leave until I have them. So get on your contacts," I suggested, planting a hand against the door, pushing it in, catching her off-guard enough to push her sock-clad feet backward with it.

  I didn't, however, plan on how fast she could move, how prepared she was.

  Her body flew behind the door, whirling back, a gun in her hands, cocking it with her other hand as she moved another step away - just out of arm's reach.

  "Get the fuck out," she demanded, voice steel even as I only moved inward more, but taking a couple steps back, not wanting to provoke her because something in me said she wouldn't hesitate to use the gun she was holding in steady hands, aimed perfectly for a headshot.

  "Liv, why is the door... oh," the other woman who lived there's voice said, pulling to a stop inside the door, looking at Liv, then me, then Liv again, not so much as stiffening up at the situation.

  "Astrid, go. Get Camden," Liv demanded, keeping her gaze on me.

  "Since when do we pull guns on outlaw gun runners?" Astrid asked, ignoring Liv as she moved inside, shrugging out of her jacket. "And, I mean, we can't kill him," she added, moving toward me, stopping right in front of me, head cocked to the side a bit.

  She was pretty too, this Astrid.

  But in a different way.

  An almost rougher way with her keen hazel eyes, her strange lack of fear.

  "He's too cute to die, don't you think?" she asked, walking her fingers up my stomach and chest.

  "No, I don't think," Liv answered her friend, voice somehow exasperated, amused, and chastening all at once. Almost like a mom's voice.

  "Liar," Astrid shot back, moving a slow circle around me.

  I thought just to inspect me further as her hand ran across my ribs, my back, down.

  That was until her hand closed around my gun, pulling it out of my waistband as she circled fully around me, holding it up.

  "Now. It's just plain rude to bring a gun to someone's house the first time you visit, no? I mean a nice pie, a bag of good quality coffee beans, one of those reed diffuser things? Sure. A gun? Not so much. But we thank you for your hostess gift anyway," she declared, moving over to place it down on the table behind the door where Liv must have had the one stashed that was now in her hands still pointed at me.

  "I think the place could use a nice reed diffuser," Liv agreed, making my brows draw together as I watched the two, calm as could be about an outlaw biker in their apartment.

  Maybe because they were the only ones with guns.

  But I had the distinct feeling that wasn't the case.

  "Right? Like right here,"Astrid suggested, waving my loaded gun toward the table beside the door that was almost toppling with unopened mail. "A reed diffuser. Maybe one of those big glass vases filled with like those decorative balls and shit. That's what we're supposed to have, right? We just don't have the friends to give them to us, you know,... what's your name?"

  "Roderick."

  "Roderick," Astrid mused, rolling the name off her tongue like she was testing out the sounds. "Maybe the next time you pop over, you could bring a reed diffuser."

  "He won't be popping over since he is not popping over now. He's trespassing and making demands."

  "Oh, what kinds of demands?" Astrid asked, moving over to the table, sitting down, kicking her feet up on it, twirling my gun around on her finger like a toy. A loaded, lethal toy. "Is it for our virtue? Because, sorry to break it to you, Roderick, but that ship sailed a long, long time ago."

  "Way to make us sound like..." Liv started, only to be cut off.

  "Like women of a certain age who have enjoyed the company of men?" Astrid suggested. "Yes, yes we are that. Uh oh," she said after what sounded like the ding of the elevator. "Daddy's home. It was nice knowing you, Roderick," Astrid told me, pointing my gun at me, making a clicking noise just as the sound of footsteps moved into the doorway.

  My head turned, finding the man they had referred to as Camden. He stood in the doorway with his usual box of - what had to be pastries of some sort and a tray of hot drinks on top.

  His gaze shot to Liv, then Astrid, then finally me, a low, growling noise rumbling through his chest.

  "He wants his guns back," Liv explained as Camden stomped across the room, dropping the box and tray down on the table beside Astrid's feet, reaching out to cock my gun with what sounded like a reproachful grunt, like he didn't approve of the fact that she was playing with it instead of pointing it at me like Liv was doing.

  "I did explain we unloaded them already. Well, two of them anyway."

  "He didn't bring us a reed diffuser," Astrid added, making Camden's head swivel, brows drawn low in confusion.

  "Astrid is accepting his gun as a hostess gift," Liv explained. "Now, maybe you can escort our guest back to the hallway," Liv suggested, making Camden nod and move toward me.

  "He can escort me all he wants. I'm not going anywhere. I need the guns. And you're going to get them for me."

  "Keep dreaming, bud," she suggested, waving with her gun as Camden shoved me toward the door.

  The next day, the same routine.

  I showed up when Camden was out.

  With a reed diffuser.

  And while Liv was in the shower, Astrid - the nut - let me in.

  I had a feeling while Camden was the brawn and Liv the brains, Astrid was the wild card, the one who couldn't be trusted or underestimated.

  "Settle in," she suggested, waving me in. "Mama dukes will be out in a minute."

  "Are you in the habit of inviting strange men into your apartment?" I asked, quietly closing the door behind me.

  "Only the cute ones. Besides, you brought a gift," she told me, already tearing into the box, ripping out the glass container full of mauve liquid, pulling out the seal, then sticking the reeds inside it.

  While she turned her back on me, rearranging the mail - meaning tossing it onto the floor - and putting the diffuser into place, I got a chance to look around without a gun pointed at me.

  It was a giant, open space with the whole front lined with oversized diamond windows with no curtains.

  To the far right in the front was a somewhat oversized L-shaped kitchen with stainless steel everything - countertops included - and gray cabinets. On the wall above the sink where there were no windows were three lines of chunky wooden shelves holding an assortment of plates, bowls, glasses, and a s
hitton of mugs. The island was empty save for someone's tablet, the shelves under it holding a dozen or so pots and pans.

  Several feet from there was a simple square table with three chairs. Three. One for each of them. Like they never imagined there would ever be a fourth person in their lives. Two coffee mugs sat there - one floral, one earthenware.

  To the left was a giant dark gray sectional with an oversized ottoman, pillows and blankets - not one matching - scattered around along with laptops and what looked like a bag of Doritos held closed with a hair clip.

  There was a TV sitting on top of an entertainment system a few feet from there, big enough that I wasn't sure they could have gotten it in the elevator. Butted up in the furthest corner facing the window was their Christmas tree - giant - covered in perfect lights and an assortment of ornaments that almost seemed handmade from afar.

  From inside, off to each side were hallways boasting what seemed to be two bedrooms on one side and a bedroom and a bathroom on the other.

  You could hear the water running in the shower, smell the lavender vanilla scent of body wash wafting out under the door and into the loft.

  "The coffee is fresh-ish," Astrid offered, grabbing the floral mug to go cap it off. "I saw you getting your stalker on outside waiting for Cam to leave. Figure you might be cold."

  "You knew I was watching all morning and you let me up?" I asked as she poured me coffee in a goddamn Ursula mug.

  "Yep," she agreed, moving over to hop herself up on the counter in the kitchen, watching me.

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. Call it a hunch."

  "A hunch about what?" I asked as she pulled up her mug, taking a long sip. If I wasn't mistaken, delaying.

  And just a few seconds later, I heard some slamming around, bottles hitting the floor in the bathroom, some grumbling, and then a door opening, bare feet slapping on the hard floor, bringing Liv out in a flimsy white and cream kimono, cut high on the thigh, opened in a long V down the chest, her long hair wrapped up in a white towel. Her cheeks were tinted pink from the hot water.

  The low, sweet humming that had been vibrating through her stopped as she turned out of the hallway, gaze moving around the room, finding me sitting at the table like I belonged there.

  "Astrid... what the fuck?" she asked in the same exasperated, amused, confused voice she'd used on her the day before.

  "He brought a reed diffuser. It smells like sipping piña coladas on a beach while hot island men feed you pineapples and tell you how beautiful you are."

  "Yeah, 'cause that is a scent," Liv snorted. "You gave him coffee?" she sighed, shaking her head.

  In doing so, the side of her face caught the light, showing off a scar I had missed when her hair had been down, curving from the side of her ear and down her jaw - light pink and shiny. Thick though. Deliberate, I would bet. Put there by a knife and an angry hand.

  Marks on women's skin.

  Didn't matter that I didn't know her, that she had made my life harder, it still made anger bubble up inside at seeing it there. Right on her face too. A constant reminder of what someone had done to her.

  Sure, danger came with the territory. You didn't get into gun running and expect it to be smooth sailing.

  But I couldn't help but wonder if she saw it and felt shame, anger, or determination to never let it happen again. Maybe a combination of all three.

  "He was standing out in the cold, Liv. He needed to warm up."

  "Or die of frostbite," Liv shot back, surprising me by not going for a gun, simply walking over to the kitchen as well, pouring herself what was left of the pot of coffee, putting in some caramel-flavored creamer.

  "Oh, come now. Don't be so grumpy. It's not his fault we stole from him," Astrid claimed, hopping off the counter, moving over toward me. "He took a mean dog bite for us too. Did it need stitches?" she asked, almost sounding eager.

  Willing to placate her since she seemed to be on my team, I slowly stood, shrugging out of my jacket, then peeling off the gauze, showing off the angry, red, jagged mark still riddled with metal stitches.

  "Oh, that is going to be a yummy scar," she decided, reaching down to trace down my forearm.

  "Don't you think your time would be better spent tracking down some replacement guns than staking out our loft?"

  "No, see. This was your fuck up, mami. And it's up to you to fix it."

  "Fix it," she repeated.

  "Find me replacement guns before my boss gets pissed," I clarified.

  "Oh, fun. An adventure," Astrid decided, walking over toward the couch, throwing herself down.

  "Adventure? Really, Astrid? Do you remember trying to track it down in the first place? See, that was why I had to take from you guys. I was going to lose a client if I didn't get the Double Trigger. You had the only one available anywhere."

  "Well, time to dig a little deeper. You have... three weeks."

  "It's not..."

  The door opened, bringing in Camden again, another growl escaping him at finding me there.

  "Don't look at me," Liv said, waving a hand down at her towel and kimono.

  His gaze went to Astrid, brow quirked up. "What? Don't look at me like that. He is being very reasonable, in my opinion."

  "He wants us to track down replacement guns," Liv explained to the oddly silent Camden.

  "It's bad for business to get on the bad side of an organization like The Henchmen," Astrid added. "I am just trying to be a voice of reason here. We were working on a deadline and were desperate. Now they are doing the same. And I don't know if we want a desperate MC on our case. I think it is smarter to cooperate."

  Liv and Camden shared a look, one that said maybe they were seeing Astrid's side, that for all her craziness, she was actually thinking things through.

  "You are making it sound easier than it is going to be, Astrid," Liv reminded her.

  "Oh, you have always liked a good challenge," Astrid shot back as Camden came in, dropping the box on the table next to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Silently intimidating, that was what this man was.

  "Cam, it's alright," Liv consoled him, moving closer, close enough that her thigh brushed mine as she leaned forward, pulling open the box, grabbing an old-fashioned donut - the plainest of the bunch - and bit into it. "Maybe Roderick will excuse us for an hour? Go get himself some breakfast while we get a chance to talk things over?"

  I looked between them, seeing consideration in each of their eyes, figuring it was safe enough to head out, let them talk, figuring they weren't about to skip town.

  "An hour," I agreed, moving to stand up. "Thanks for the coffee, cariña," I told Astrid, saluting her with the mug before putting it down. "I will see you all in an hour."

  With that, I walked out, hoping like hell they would make my life easier by agreeing to the plan.

  FOUR

  Livianna

  "Astrid, Jesus Christ," I sighed when Roderick was in the elevator and the door was once again shut and locked.

  "Oh, come on now. You guys didn't seriously think he was gone when you kicked him out last night, right?"

  "If you knew he was staking us out, why didn't you say something?" I demanded, watching as Cam nodded in agreement.

  "Oh, stop with all the furrowed brows. That man is a puppy dog."

  "That man is an outlaw biker, Astrid," I reminded her, shaking my head. "Maybe he might be a decent human being, but he is not a damn puppy. Maybe like a dog on a leash. And all dogs snarl when you rattle their chain."

  "So don't rattle his chain," Astrid suggested, throwing a blanket over her body, making me suddenly aware now that the warm of the shower and the heat of surprise was wearing off that Cam was clearly making us pay for jacking the heat up to seventy-four the night before, my nipples tweaking tight as I made my way across the room to see it was down to sixty-five.

  "I tried everything to track down those guns the last time. It was impossible."

  "Clearly not. The Henchmen tra
cked them down."

  "They're a bigger, older organization. They have different contacts to pull from."

  "So, we will double down."

  "Why are you so keen to do this?" I asked, suspicious.

  Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, Astrid had her own little motivations, ones that she wouldn't let on about until things went her way.

  The sneakiness was what bothered me, the small sliver of lack of trust she still had. Not that anyone could blame her, but it bothered me at times, made me realize that for as much progress as we had made, there was still more to make, still strides to take.

  "Look," she sighed. "I think it would be a hell of a lot easier to track down some guns than to owe The Henchmen MC. I don't know them, but I imagine being in their debt could prove unpleasant. Or labor-intensive. The puppy is giving us an out. That doesn't seem to involve his club at all unless we don't make good on this. Do I think this is the most logical path? Yes. Do I think it would be even better if you and the sexy biker dude end up in bed while you work together? Hell yes," she added, shooting Cam a scathing look when he scoffed. "What? You know she's been hard up for a while. So have you, I might add. Is it so wrong to think they would enjoy one another's company?"

  "Him helping out wasn't part of the plan," I objected.

  "Right. Like he is going to take his eyes off of us until he has his guns back. His rep is on the line. His ego has got to be bruised after getting mauled by that ridiculous dog and then getting robbed by a woman. His brothers are never going to let him live this down."

  "What do you think?" I asked, turning to Cam who was fishing his usual jelly donut out of the box, sitting back in the chair, taking a bite, considering. His gaze met mine, eyes saying a million things at once. In the end, his shoulder shrugged, jerking his chin toward Astrid.

  "See? He agrees. So, we should get to work," she decided, grabbing the laptop on the couch, pulling it open.

  Astrid, as a whole, didn't do a whole hell of a lot of illegal stuff. She didn't do the pick ups or the drops. Maybe partly because Cam and I sheltered her, didn't want her to bear the consequences of a job gone south like we had needed to do more than a time or two. Especially in the beginning. She'd been younger. From a rough life, sure, but not the kind that I had led, that I had imagined Cam had led.