by Max Monroe
The problem lay in the unknown. Had Alex actually heard their conversation?
Unfortunately, if the answer to that question was yes, then the little rabbit was now a risk, a loose end that needed to be tied. If her ears had been perked up when she was standing by Jaybird and his giant fucking mouth, then she would have been privy to information that was otherwise classified. Information, that if it got into the wrong hands, could cause some serious fucking problems for my organization.
Casualties were a part of the business, but they weren’t something to get used to. They were a liability even in death, and I didn’t fucking like unknowns. We needed to keep an eye on Alex, and hopefully, she’d do the smart thing and utilize the phone number on my business card—it could mean the difference between life and death.
The urgency of that situation wasn’t lost on me. It was why I hadn’t wasted more than one night before calling Jaybird into my office to answer for his actions.
“You’re lucky she didn’t take you for anything more than your smokes and your god-awful gaudy lighter,” I scolded, stepping around my large mahogany desk to lean my ass into the front.
With two hands in the air and his best impression of a good old boy embodying his being, he tried to talk his way out of it. “I wouldn’t keep anything that important on me, Matt. Swear.”
But his styled black hair and sweet blue eyes meant nothing to me. I smiled with malice. “But you were running your mouth to Spade and Eric, things you know you shouldn’t be talking about in the first place, and you were doing it in goddamn public.”
“I didn’t say anything sensitive,” he started, gripping the arms of his chair tightly to push up to standing. I grabbed the letter opener from the top of my desk swiftly and planted it into his hand in one smooth motion, through the flesh and straight into the wood of the chair arm before he could finish the lie.
“Ah Jesus, fuck,” he wailed, his eyes pinched together tightly in pain as blood shot out and ran down the leg of the chair to a small pool on the floor. The difference in his crimson vitality and the polished cream marble of my floor was stark.
I moved closer to his face and lowered my voice. “Do not bullshit me. I was watching you. I know what you were talking about, and I know you shouldn’t have been talking about it. Got it?”
His face grayed in pallor, part fear, part blood loss, and his large frame shook as he fought the adrenaline and panic and met my eyes. Finally, a smart move. “I got it, Matt,” he assured me. “I’m sorry.”
I pushed back away from him and leaned into the desk as I pulled my jacket from my shoulders and started to unbutton my white shirt. Dots of his blood marred the pristine fabric and spread as they soaked into the fibers.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve fucked up, but it will be the last. Do you understand me?” I asked, letting my open shirt fall loosely at my sides.
He jerked his head in agreement instantly.
“Get out,” I ordered, nodding to Cal Monarch, my security advisor, who’d been standing in the back corner of my office throughout our meeting. Jaybird jumped up to move, but literally attached to the chair via impalement, he had to grit his teeth against the pain as he pulled the letter opener from his hand. Sweat dotted his entire face, and his normally coiffed hair drooped into his pained eyes. Still, he said nothing before wiping the letter opener on the sleeve of his own jacket to clean it before placing it back on my desk like a good little boy.
Cal smiled as the door closed behind Jay and took a seat in his vacated chair, completely unaffected by the mess. Jay’s blood soaked into the sleeve of his shirt and climbed the fabric of his pants like a vine as it swished around on the pool on the floor. I shook my head with a laugh and opened the door to my closet to pull out a fresh shirt.
“What?” Cal asked.
“You.” I jerked my head toward the blood smearing his previously pristine clothes. For shit’s sake, the blood had to be getting cold now, and yet he sat in it as if it were a bubble bath. “And people say I’m ruthless.”
Cal smirked. “You are the one who made the mess.”
I sighed. “He needed a lesson. He’s been running wild for a while now.”
“I know,” Cal agreed.
I laughed a little, a lighthearted thought clearing my mind as I buttoned up my shirt and settled into the seat. “I really thought his blood would be blue. The flashy motherfucker.”
Cal’s smile, despite the scary lines of his face, was downright gleeful. Something I wouldn’t have thought possible if I didn’t know him. Something like ninety-eight percent Bannock Indian, he’d left the reservation in Idaho nearly twenty years ago, searching for something else—and never looked back. I found it a little ironic that a place as brazen and violent as Wonderland was where he found peace.
“I know. I’m actually thankful Alex Little stole that fucking lighter. We should give her access to his entire closet.”
“Alex Little, huh?” I asked with interest. “You have her file?”
“Yep. Right here,” Cal said, sitting up and reaching around his back.
“I’m not going to need another new shirt, am I?” I teased.
Cal pulled the file from its spot tucked into the back of his pants and flipped it back and forth to check for blood. “Not this time.” He tossed it onto the desk in front of me with a grin.
I opened the front, and the first thing on top was a picture of her. It had been taken in profile and without her knowledge, her hair swept back neatly off of her makeup-free face with a simple blue headband. Her eyes looked like the waters of the Caribbean they were so aqua, even at this angle.
She looked entirely too innocent.
The thought of her standing in the Devlins’ backyard in nothing but her bra and panties, giving me sass, had made a distinctly opposite impression.
“What’s her situation?” I asked Cal, even as I read through her basic stats. Alex Little, age twenty-five, parents deceased. Her only living family, an aunt in San Diego. Clean bill of health from what I could see. No STDs or chronic illnesses. No major past medical history besides a wisdom teeth extraction. And no medications besides her daily birth control pill.
It might seem a bit over the top to delve into someone’s medical records, but you’d be surprised the kind of information you could find on a person that way. And, it was my job to know everything.
Plus, when it came to the employees of Wonderland, Inc. I didn’t relish the idea of sexually transmitted diseases running rampant through my staff and clientele. Wonderland’s pleasure girls, for example, were required to test every three months.
“She seems normal,” he responded once my eyes left the file and met his.
I rolled my eyes, and he laughed.
“Yeah, I know. What is normal anyway? But she’s got an apartment, had a job as a bartender that she just lost before taking on the costume gig where we met her, single, has no real friends—”
“And how’s that normal?” I cut him off to ask. “Shouldn’t a twenty-five-year-old like her have friends?”
He shrugged, seemingly unaffected by that detail. “She just moved here. She’s struggling, not partying.”
“You like her,” I surmised, studying the inky color of his nearly black eyes.
Cal smiled and shrugged again. “I hate that fucking lighter. He was always flicking it, all the goddamn time.”
“Fuck that lighter.” I was starting to get frustrated by his cavalier attitude. “Is she a problem?” Something about not knowing what I had to do with her made me feel on edge, and that wasn’t a feeling I was used to. When it came to shit like this, the answer probably seemed easy to most: Go question little Alex to see if she’d heard anything. But that wasn’t how situations like these were handled in my world. Interrogation only encouraged suspicions.
Most times with innocent bystanders like Alex, it was best to sit back and watch, only intervening before the source did something rash or impulsive.
And, if I wa
s being honest with myself, I didn’t want to put her in that position. After a witty conversation and a little harmless flirting, she seemed promising. Any though of smothering that promise left a real fucking bad taste in my mouth.
Hardened criminals and con men who were always looking for a shady way to get a leg up were a different fucking story. They’d have been dead before Jaybird’s impromptu meeting.
“I don’t think so,” he advised. “But keeping her close until we know what she knows or doesn’t know probably isn’t a bad idea.”
I sat back in my seat and smirked. Close, I could do. After all, it was what I’d already planned to do. “I already gave her my card.”
His eyes narrowed. “With what number?”
“Mine,” I admitted, interlacing my fingers and wrapping my hands around the back of my head.
His harsh features dissolved into a playful smile again. “Wow.”
“Stop.”
“That’s just so unlike you, boss.”
I rocked forward, sliding my hands off my head and grabbing the gold W paperweight from my desk to slide it to the other side—a fidget to camouflage how uncharacteristically involved I felt in this one. “I’m giving her a chance. You yourself said she’s struggling, and we have opportunities. That’s all. She’s got a week to use the card.”
“A week?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“And then what?”
“You know what,” I told him. We’d worked together for the entire fifteen years I’d been doing this—since I was Alex Little’s age—and he’d been around for two beforehand while my father was still in charge. He knew I had my limits, and I did whatever I had to when they were crossed.
“You’re going to be able to do that?”
“Don’t fucking ask me that,” I snapped. It was one thing for Cal to be my confidant, but another for him to question me about my ability to do what needed to be done.
Of course, he was a crazy motherfucker. My threats didn’t scare him at all—nothing scared him.
He shook his head with a smile. “Fuck. I guess it’s time to pray.”
My eyebrows drew together. “Since when do you recognize religion?”
“Since I saw Alex Little,” he said with a laugh. “She doesn’t call…”
I read his mind, rolled my eyes, and finished his thought so he didn’t have to.
“Waste of talent.”
“Exactly.” Once the word left my lips, visuals of Alex flooded my mind. Her long, blond hair hanging down her back and nearly kissing her sexy little hips. Those mile-long legs, seemingly impossible on her tiny body, and that fucking mouth—full, soft, pink lips that held equal parts seduction and attitude.
Fuck, Cal was probably right. It was time to pray.
“ALEX,” MY AUNT DELORES CROWED into the phone. “When are you coming back to San Diego to visit me?”
“I’m not sure,” I muttered. I’d planned to make the trip next month, but now that I was back to square one when it came to my job hunt, I didn’t know when I’d be able to financially.
I’d officially made the decision to go into rabbit retirement about twenty minutes after I’d left the Devlins’ mansion. Unofficially, I’d probably made that decision two seconds after I’d put on the costume.
Alas, despite the financial bind it’d now put me in, I wasn’t cut out to humiliate myself at kids’ birthday parties. Something about not being able to defend myself against the little shit-talkers didn’t sit well with me.
Earlier this morning, when I’d dropped off the costume at Princess Party Productions, I’d given my verbal “no days’” notice. And surprisingly, without any “magical” argument, Princess Prozac had Tina from HR cut me a pink and glittery check for five hundred Princess Dollars, and we’d gone our separate ways. I had a hunch Kitty Devlin and her Botoxed mouth had gifted some complaints to my employee file.
“I’m not going to be around much longer, ya know,” Aunt Delores muttered, and I rolled my eyes. She might have been seventy, but she was as healthy as an ox and had more energy than most thirty-year-olds. Hell, she still got up on her roof once a month to clean out her gutters.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said through a laugh. “You’ll probably live longer than I will.”
“I’m seventy, honey. Time is ticking, and death is practically knocking at my door.”
I sighed. It was pointless to argue with her once she started into the whole “death is knocking at my door” bit. “Okay, fine. What about next month?”
I didn’t know if it was doable, but I’d try to find a way to make it work.
“Next month isn’t good. I’m going to Vegas with the ladies from church.”
“A church trip to Vegas? That’s a tad ironic, don’t you think?”
“Don’t be such a do-gooder,” she retorted. “A little gambling in the name of the Lord is good for the soul.”
“Okay…what about August?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule. We might be taking the church bus to Salt Lake City.”
“What’s in Salt Lake?”
“Mormons.”
“But I thought you were Baptist?”
“I am. That’s why we need to go to Salt Lake. Preach the name of the Lord to the Mormons.”
“That makes no sense, Aunt Delores. Mormons are Christian, too.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “You caught me in a lie. We’re probably going to Vegas again.”
“I’m starting to wonder if your church group is actually a gambling group,” I chastised.
“You’re too damn curious for your own good.”
“You mean for your own good?” I corrected.
“That’s neither here nor there, Alex,” she muttered. “More importantly, have you enrolled in school yet?”
I cringed. “I’m still trying to save up some money.”
“You’ve been saying that since you left San Diego—which was over a year ago.”
“I know, but it’s not exactly easy starting from scratch. Plus, I haven’t decided what I want to major in, and I’m not going to take classes that won’t count toward my degree. College is too expensive to waste money on useless courses.”
“Are you still working at that bar?”
“No.”
“Where are you working now?”
Nowhere.
“I’ve got a few odds and ends jobs.”
“Sounds like you’re floundering like a beached fish. Do you need money, Alex? I can send you money.”
Yes, I do. But I can’t take money from you…
“No. I don’t need money. I’m fine.”
“I think you should move back to San Diego. You can go to school here. Live with me for free.”
“I appreciate that, I really do. But I’m happy here.”
Well, I was sort of happy. I mean, my situation could be better. Money, new friends, a better apartment, those kinds of things would’ve helped my current life outlook.
“The offer always stands, Alex.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, honey. I’ve gotta scoot. I’m meeting the girls for lunch. I’ll let you know about August.”
“Love you, Aunt Delores.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up the phone and plopped my ass onto my sofa, and Deena, my cat, hopped onto my legs and curled up in my lap. Mindlessly, I ran my fingers through her black coat as I contemplated the meaning of my life.
How had I gotten to this point?
Over a year ago, I’d left San Diego with high hopes of finding a job, enrolling in classes at UCLA, and making a fresh start for myself. It wasn’t that I hadn’t liked San Diego, but I’d needed a change. I’d needed to spread my wings and not be so reliant on Aunt Delores.
I’d needed to grow up.
And I’d also wanted to surround myself with people who weren’t so complacent with their mundane, monotonous lives.
It was like one day I’d woken up from a dream an
d I was bored. I’d felt stuck and out of place and like life had no real purpose. I’d grown tired of working at the gas station up the street from my aunt’s house. My days had become predictable. Work, hang out with my then-boyfriend Randy and our friends at the local bar, sleep, wake up, and then do it all over again.
I wanted something more.
When I’d made the decision to move to LA, I’d basically left everything behind—my friends, my boyfriend, my life.
But even now, I still didn’t regret it. The more I was searching for was here somewhere; I could feel it.
I just hated that it was taking me so long to figure it all out.
Three hard knocks to my door startled me out of my thoughts. I slid Deena off my lap and headed toward my door, but five more knocks, even harsher than before, followed.
Jesus, hold your horses.
I peered out of the peephole and internally sighed the instant I caught sight of Vinnie Pat, my landlord. With a big beer belly and greasy, thinning hair, he wasn’t the kind of man to make house calls unless he had an important message—otherwise known as an eviction notice—to give you.
Ah, fuck.
I leaned my back against the door and sighed.
“I know you’re in there, Alex! Open up,” he shouted from the other side.
Shit.
I took a deep breath, turned, lifted my breasts a little higher out the top of my shirt, and opened the door. “Hey, Vin,” I greeted in a sugary-sweet voice.
“You’re behind on rent.”
“I know,” I admitted, thrusting my chest forward in the hopes that it would distract him from the forthcoming fib. “But I just dropped a check in the box for one month’s rent, and I’ll have the rest that I owe you next week.” I hadn’t actually dropped the check in the box yet, but I would…even though it would clean me out completely. And I might not have the rest by next week, but that would at least give me time to figure something out.
