Remington

by Silvia Violet

Was that really true? I wasn’t going to let myself believe it. Remy had hired me. It wasn’t like he’d gone on a date with me and decided he really liked me. This was a professional arrangement.

  However, it was true that he seemed to enjoy the moments when we lay in bed cuddling or chatted by the fireplace or read together, and the day he’d taken me around the city had been magical, even if he had worked from dawn to dusk almost every day after.

  “Remington is a control freak,” Corbin said. “He thinks he has to be in charge of everybody and everything. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  “I… um… I’ve noticed.” Heat filled my face as I thought about the ways Remington had shown me his need for control. I was a rent boy who blushed when I thought about sex. What the hell had I been thinking going along with my cousin’s scheme?

  If Remington hadn’t come along when he had, God knows what would’ve happened to me. I was so fucking glad I’d had a chance to be with him. Even if I never saw him again after our time was up, he’d have given me an amazing two weeks and taught me what good sex was like, what real pleasure was all about.

  “I don’t like being told what to do,” Corbin said. “So I haven’t always followed Remy’s orders precisely like he wanted me to. I fucked some things up, and yeah, my mama spoiled me. That doesn’t mean I can’t ever grow up, but no matter what I do, Remy won’t believe I have.”

  I could see the pain in Corbin’s eyes, and I wished I could do something to make the situation between him and Remington better. I had a feeling they were both at fault, Remington for not allowing or accepting change in his brother and Corbin for not following directions. Something about Corbin’s protest that he had been trying his best to show Remington how mature he was felt overly defensive. I didn’t think he’d tried quite as hard as he wanted me to believe.

  After a huge spoonful of ice cream, Corbin asked, “Have you got any tips for me about how to get through to him?”

  “I’ve only known him a short time, so I…”

  “He trusts you more than he trusts me.”

  He had to be wrong. “What makes you think that?”

  “He told you things about what’s going on tonight.”

  I shook my head. “No details. I only know a little.”

  “I have to fight for every bit of information from him. He gives me assignments, but he won’t tell me the full story about what’s going on.”

  I felt ridiculous giving Corbin advice. He was my age for God’s sake, and I was hardly an example of how to succeed. Yes, I’d taken responsibility for my mom when she’d gotten sick, and I’d had a job since I was fifteen, but I’d still fucked up and ended up living in a filthy apartment with my cousin and three other guys I didn’t know, making money by selling myself on the streets.

  “I need another drink if we’re going to keep having this conversation.”

  Corbin frowned at my glass. “I don’t think lemonade is going to help.”

  “If it’s half vodka, it will.”

  He grinned. “Then pour one for me too.”

  Once we each had a full drink, I tried to find something to say. “I don’t think… I really don’t know what to tell you. Maybe try talking to him sometime when you’re not about to go into battle, sometime when things are”—I got the sense things were never really quiet for their family—“calmer than they are now. Tell him how you feel, honestly, not defensively or angrily. Let him know his attitude hurts you.”

  Corbin nodded. “That would probably be smart, but I don’t know if he would listen, even then.”

  I wasn’t sure what else to say. I was amazed Corbin felt so comfortable talking to me. Plenty of people had told me I was easy to talk to, but most of them had known me for a long time.

  “He really does like you, you know.” Corbin’s change of subject threw me off.

  “What?”

  “Remington really likes you.”

  My heart rate picked up. “Did he say something about me?”

  “Even though there are two guards outside, he sent me in here to watch over you. He said it was essential you have constant protection.”

  Because I was an investment? Because I knew his secrets? Or was it more? “Doesn’t that mean he actually trusts you? If he values my protection and he sent you to guard me, then he trusts you.”

  Corbin sighed. “He said the same thing, but—”

  I shook my head. “You want to be in the middle of the fight?”

  He took a big swallow of his drink and frowned. “That sounds kind of ridiculous now.”

  “No, you want to be able to do what he does.”

  Corbin shook his head. “I don’t want to be in charge of the family. That’s too much. I just want to actually be able to help.”

  “And eating ice cream and drinking with me doesn’t count as helping.”

  He smiled. “It’s not like I mind it or anything. I mean, you’re way better than the other men Remington has been with.”

  “I am?”

  “Oh yeah. He usually dates stuck-up assholes. You’re not like them at all. I… Shit… I never share stuff like this.”

  “The vodka helps.”

  He laughed. “True, but I’m not usually a chatty drunk. I get…”

  “Broody?”

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  He would look gorgeous all filled with angst. He probably had men or women or whoever he preferred falling all over him just by sitting alone and looking thoughtful.

  I glanced toward the front door. Remington had been gone a long time. “When do you think he’ll be back?”

  “It’s hard to say.”

  “Aren’t you worried?”

  “This is my life. My father, my older brothers, this is just what they do.”

  “But what if… what if he…” I grabbed the bottle of vodka and splashed a large amount into my glass before topping it off with a little lemonade.

  Corbin frowned at my drink. “That’s going to be really strong. You might want to—”

  I brought it to my lips and gulped it down. I hadn’t let myself drink so much since right after my mom died and I’d wallowed in grief for weeks. “What do we do if he doesn’t come back?”

  Corbin laid a hand over mine. “Remington might be an asshole, but he’s damn good at what he does. He’ll be back.”

  I wanted to believe him, so I let him distract me with stories about Remington when he was much younger. By the time I’d drained my glass of vodka with a hint of lemonade, I was struggling to follow our conversation.

  It took lots of squinting, but I finally made out the time on the clock. It was late, really late. My stomach churned. The last thing I needed was more alcohol, but I reached for the bottle anyway. Corbin grabbed it from my hand. “It’s time for me to take you to bed.”

  My eyes widened. Remington would kill him.

  He laughed, and the sound was overly loud in the small kitchen. “Not like that. You need water and ibuprofen. Then you need to sleep this off.”

  “I’m not that drunk,” I protested, but when I stood, I wobbled and had to grab onto the counter.

  “Right.”

  I realized Corbin was completely steady. Was he just that much better at drinking? “I don’t drink much. Almost never.”

  “Then you really need water.”

  Corbin forced me to finish a huge glass of water and part of another one. I downed three ibuprofen, and he literally tucked me into bed like I was a kid.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so drunk.”

  “It’s okay,” Corbin said.

  I didn’t think I could sleep without knowing Remington was safe, but as soon as I lay down, the darkness seemed to enfold me.

  35

  Remington

  Giorgio, Niall, and the rest of my men were in place, waiting until Clark sent the signal for our “buyer” to move in. Then we had to count on Lance and—God help us—Tony to play their roles. Lance insisted the monkey was part of his act, and I’d
given in. I sure as hell hoped the little creature could avoid bullets because I hated to think about how Lance would react if he was harmed.

  Every moment that I waited in my hiding place, close to the warehouse, felt like an hour. I’d rather just run in shooting than stand around like this. It was torturous, but it was the right thing to do. I held off on communicating with any of the other men, not wanting to take the chance of alerting our enemies who stood guard at the back of the warehouse. I could tell they were lax in their duties by the way they played on their phones and chatted with each other. Neither of them were looking out into the night, watching for people to approach. If they were my men, they would be severely punished and forced to start reearning my trust by doing the lowest jobs I could assign them.

  Finally, the gunrunners arrived with their crates of weapons. Landry’s guards made only a cursory check of their identities and didn’t even look at the goods. Those crates could be filled with Nerf guns or nothing at all, though the men were doing a convincing job of making them look heavy. They entered the warehouse. As planned, another excruciatingly long five minutes passed before Lance texted me that he was going in.

  Lance strolled up to the door wearing a blond wig, sunglasses, loud Hawaiian shirt, khaki cargo pants, and fucking Crocs on his feet. How the hell did he think he was going to run in those? Arrogant bastard. Tony was perched on his shoulder wearing a little t-shirt as usual. God only knew what it said. He strolled right up to the guards.

  They stepped in front of the door, attempting to look menacing, but I knew Lance could take them out in seconds.

  “I’m here about buying some guns,” he said far louder than necessary.

  The taller of the two men stepped forward. “You got the wrong place. Move on.” He laid a hand on Lance, trying to push him back.

  That was a mistake.

  The man screamed when Tony bit his hand. Lance grabbed his arm, wrenched it behind him, and brought a knife to his throat. The other man looked confused as hell. He didn’t even pull his weapon.

  “Open the door,” Lance directed the shorter man.

  When he didn’t respond, Lance kicked him in the gut while keeping hold of the taller man. Then he shoved the man he was holding to the ground, wrenched open the door, and entered. The whole time, Tony never left his shoulder.

  The man Lance had kicked started to stand, and the other man rushed to the door. One after the other they crashed back to the ground. Giorgio had taken them out, and thanks to his silencer, I doubted anyone in the warehouse was the wiser about it.

  I moved toward the door, knowing once they saw me, the others would emerge as well.

  I moved slowly and cautiously as I listened in. Lance was wearing a mic, and I could hear every word he said.

  “Like I told you, I’m here to make a purchase.”

  “This ain’t no store. You need to move on,” an unidentified man said.

  “Is that any way to greet a customer?” He was playing the obnoxious buffoon well, but I knew he’d be observing everything, taking in details no dumb-as-fuck asshole would notice. Could he pull this off?

  The man who’d confronted him spoke again. “I’m giving you ten seconds to leave before I put a bullet in your chest.”

  “Hey. No need for that. I’m just a man who wants to buy some big guns. That’s all. I heard about your little operation through the grapevine.”

  “From who?” Now it was Clark speaking, playing his role just like he’d agreed to.

  “I have my ways. I know other things about you too. Like the brothers you put in the swamp last month. The alligators didn’t do such a good job on them. They must not have been hungry that night because parts of those bodies washed up on shore. I know somebody that kept them as a souvenir.”

  Clark had killed men and dumped them in the swamp. The rest of the tale was made up, though Dax’s brother, Ambrose, had found several human bones that had turned up on shore.

  “Want me to take him out, boss?” one of the men asked.

  “Hold up. Tell me more about this person. How trustworthy could he be if he’s stealing bones from a swamp and not contacting the police?” Clark was rolling with the crazy. I had to give him that.

  Lance snorted. “The police? This guy don’t mess with any kind of law enforcement, and he doesn’t give a fuck what happens to people out there as long as they stay away from him.”

  That was our signal to move in. I motioned for my cousins and the men who were with them to move around back. While Lance had everyone’s attention, they would come in and ambush them.

  “Hey, how do we know you’re not a cop?” another man asked.

  I tensed.

  “I don’t like cops anymore than my friend, but I do like guns, and I’m here to buy some.”

  “What’s your name, Mr. Not A Cop?” That challenge came from the first man who’d spoken.

  “You don’t need to know my name, Mr. Landry.” My best guess was that the speaker was Timon Landry, Clark’s youngest brother and the biggest hothead in the family.

  “I say I do because I think you’re lying, and I like to know the name of every man who lies to me.”

  “Put the gun down, Landry,” Lance said. A second later, I heard a shot followed quickly by another. My heart skipped a beat. Please let Lance be all right.

  I rushed in. Lance was holding his arm. Blood leaked through his fingers, but he was alive and sitting up.

  Timon Landry lay on the floor with a hole through his chest. Tony was nowhere in sight. Hopefully he was in a good hiding place. Lance barely jumped aside in time to avoid a bullet from Clark who apparently realized we weren’t on his side. I ended him, and I didn’t stop shooting until I put down everyone who looked ready to come for us. By that time, the men with me had subdued or eliminated everyone else.

  I made my way to where Lance sat on the floor using some crates for cover. “Are you all right?”

  He waved his good hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Where’s Tony?”

  The little monkey immediately came out from behind another crate, screeching with excitement. Lance scooped him right up, and I rolled my eyes as I opened the crates to look at the goods that had been brought in.

  As we’d expected, they contained military-grade assault rifles and grenade launchers. Whether the Landrys had planned to keep them for themselves or sell them, they would have been a pain in the ass for us. We didn’t need these in the hands of our enemies and didn’t want them in the hands of kids. If anybody was going to have weapons like these, it was going to be my family and those who allied with us.

  I looked around for the man who’d shot Charles and saw him lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He wasn’t going to be answering any of my questions. That was unfortunate, but overall, the night was a success. Elandra Landry hadn’t shown up. I hoped she would get far away from New Orleans and stay there. We’d lost the gunrunners their importer and their cash for the night. Hopefully that would make them question defying our rule of the city. If not, we’d come for them more directly. No matter how badass they thought they were, no matter what weapons they had, New Orleans was mine, and they weren’t taking it from me.

  Cleaning up after we’d neutralized the threat to the family business took a while. We had a lot of bodies to deal with. It was nearly six a.m. before I got back to my house. I found Corbin in the living room watching a movie and eating popcorn. I’d come home to my father’s house and seen him just like that so many times when he was a teenager. It made me smile.

  “Is Henri upstairs?” I asked.

  “Yes. He’s asleep. He needed vodka to cope with being worried about you, but I made him drink some water and take something before I put him to bed.”

  “How long ago?” I asked.

  Corbin frowned. “Maybe three hours.”

  “Hopefully when I wake him, he’ll still be drunk and not hungover.”

  “Yeah, I was a little worried about that. I was sure you’d want to see him when
you got home, but he was terrified. He couldn’t stop thinking about you not coming home. He did insist on a shower before bed. I was worried he’d fall down and crack his head, but he managed.”

  “You watched him in the shower?” My hands curled into fists. I didn’t like that at all.

  Corbin rolled his eyes at my display of jealousy. “I took care of him. He’s not my type. You know that.”

  His type were bad boys who got him into trouble or women who didn’t care when he didn’t call or even remember their names. They came seeking him.

  “Thank you.”

  Corbin’s eyes widened, and I hated that me thanking him was so shocking. I needed to do better by him.

  “You’re welcome. It wasn’t like this was a hard assignment.”

  “If someone had gotten in here, you were his main line of defense. I think that’s really damn important.”

  “But you got to be in the middle of the action.”

  I’d texted with him to confirm that things had gone as they should. “I was, but we’ve got more investigating to do, and you know what…”

  “What?” He looked suspicious as hell.

  “I think you would play the role better than Lance.”

  His eyes went wide. “He fucked it up?”

  “He can’t turn off his need to assess everyone, so they thought he was a cop. You’re better at appearing relaxed.”

  “So next time?”

  “We’ll see. Go home and get some sleep.”

  “Are we meeting up later this morning?” he asked as he got to his feet.

  “Let’s hold off until early afternoon.”

  As soon as Corbin was gone, I hurried upstairs. I needed to see Henri. I needed to be inside him to remind myself my world wasn’t all death and darkness.

  Henri was sleeping on his stomach, spread out like a starfish in the center of the bed, face buried in my pillow. I watched him for several moments. The streetlight shining through the window made his hair look like it was on fire, and his long lashes glittered against his cheek. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. I stripped, dropping my clothes right where I stood, then I pulled the covers back and climbed onto the bed.