Dark Protector

by Celia Aaron

  Mark shifted on the couch, spooked and unsure of what would happen next. If he tried anything, he’d be dead before he hit the floor. I narrowed my eyes at Vince. His cool façade faded as he stared up at me, and a light sheen of sweat broke out along his forehead.

  “I told you my orders.” Vince stood, his color rising. “They’re final.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten the little kindness I showed you five years ago?”

  “I haven’t.” The itch to put a bullet in him intensified.

  “Good.” He smiled like a spider that had wrapped up a victim and injected its venom. “Thanks for coming to chat. Give Mark a call once you’ve handled the woman.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that.” I turned to leave, though not far enough to let Vince out of my sight.

  “You’re a real asset around here, Connie. I wouldn’t want that to change. Your father did good work for Serge. Never questioned orders, no matter the job. He was a good man.”

  “He was a killer.” Just like me.

  He slammed his palm down on the desk. “He was loyal.”

  I stopped in the doorway to the foyer. “He was loyal to the highest bidder. Whatever gave him the greatest value—that’s what won.” How much was Charlie worth to me?

  Vince laughed, the sound thin and forced. “All right, all right. I see what’s going on here. You want double for this job? Is that it? Well, you got it. Double the regular bounty.”

  “I’ll handle it.” I strode out.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention,” Vince called. “Because this transition is a delicate matter, and I need everything to flow smoothly from now on, I’ve called in Ramone on this job, too. Of course, whoever gets to her first will claim the bounty, as is customary.”

  Fucking hell. Ramone Diaz, the one killer on the east coast who had a record anywhere close to mine. He was methodical, lethal, and worst of all—he never missed a target. If Charlie was in his sights… My gut twisted at the thought.

  I kept my usual nonchalant pace out into the foyer and down the front steps to my car. Even as I rolled down the driveway, keeping everything at my usual speed, the ice around my heart fractured, and the organ began to beat a bloody staccato.

  I tapped the Bluetooth to call Nate. It went straight to voicemail. I gritted my teeth and hit redial. Nothing.

  If Ramone was after Charlie, I could only hope that she wasn’t already dead.

  11

  Charlie

  Conrad had left in a hurry, worry creasing his brow as he dressed and holstered his gun. “Don’t try anything. Nate will keep an eye on you until I get back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He’d left the question unanswered and walked into the living room to speak to Nate in low tones.

  “Why can’t you take me with you?” I’d followed him and put my hands on my hips.

  His gaze had slid down my body, and my nipples went to full attention. I’d crossed my arms over them, but not before he’d gotten a good look.

  He’d licked his full lips. “Because you need to stay here while I straighten all this out.”

  “Are you going to kill Berty?” My tone seemed like more of a demand than a question. I don’t know which of us was more shocked.

  He’d narrowed his eyes. “Maybe.”

  The threat in his voice had sent mixed messages careening through me. My thighs heated, though fear galloped through my heart.

  “O-okay.” I’d turned, hoping he hadn’t seen the blush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks, and retreated into the bedroom.

  Once Conrad was gone, Nate called, “Come on out. I’ll order breakfast.”

  I walked into Conrad’s closet and pulled down a button-up shirt, putting it on over the t-shirt I’d worn overnight. It fell to mid-thigh and gave me an extra sense of comfort. And not because it smelled like Conrad. Though it did, and I inhaled a little more deeply than I should have.

  I walked into the living room and stopped to admire the view of Washington Square. The trees had long since shed their leaves for winter, but the park still gave color to the pavement and concrete of downtown Philadelphia. Patches of snow remained in the landscaping. Not quite a winter wonderland, but still a pleasant view.

  “You like bacon, omelet, muffin, what? I’m ordering from Cothard’s.” Nate leaned on the kitchen island with his phone at his ear, though his words were intended for me.

  “A banana nut muffin? Or blueberry. Bacon and coffee.” I walked to the far window and stared as the sun rose across the river, the lazy rays of light sending long shadows shooting out toward me. My faint reflection showed the small bandage across my nose and dark half-moons under each eye. Not my best look, but I’d had worse. I would heal.

  “Yeah, put a rush on it and I’ll double the tip.” Nate’s reflection grew closer as he walked back into the living room.

  I tensed. Even in the morning light, the basement still haunted my mind. I needed to get out of here, to get back to the shop and my apartment. If I needed to hit the road, I would.

  “They’ll be here in fifteen, tops.” He plopped down on the sofa and slung an arm up along the back. “Come sit down. Standing at the window could be bad for your health.”

  I glanced back at him, and he gave me a friendly smile. He seemed about my age, dark hair, kind eyes, handsome features, smaller than Conrad, but built, and—from what I remembered of the previous night—a smart mouth. But he’d helped me, worked with Conrad to get me out of that den of vipers. I didn’t trust him, but it didn’t hurt to go along unless he gave me reason not to.

  Edging around the back of the sofa, I took a seat in a side chair and pulled a pillow into my lap.

  “Seeing as how we haven’t been properly introduced, I’m Nate.” He gave me a small nod.

  “Charlie.” I held his gaze.

  “Right. The flower girl.”

  “I have a shop, yes.”

  “So, how do you know Con?” He kicked a foot up on the coffee table, completely at home.

  I imagined Conrad kicking him, telling him to keep his feet off the furniture, and I had to stow a smile. “Actually, I don’t.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You sure? Definitely seems like you two were an item. That’s what Berty thought. And you two”—he hitched a thumb at the bedroom—“slept together last night.”

  My cheeks heated. “We slept. That’s it. I’d never even seen Conrad until yesterday, until he…” A vision of him shooting the man on the ground ricocheted through my mind, and I shuddered.

  His face softened, giving him an even more youthful look. “You saw him work?”

  “If killing is your definition of ‘work,’ then yes.”

  “It is for Con.”

  I shifted in my seat, discomfort slithering through me at the thought of Conrad murdering for hire. “You and him—you two do the same sort of work?” I held his gaze, his eyes a dark green with lighter flecks of hazel.

  He shook his head. “I can’t command the kind of money Con does. Not even close. I’m not that good of a shot, and I’m not…” He trailed off and stared at the TV, though the screen was black.

  “You’re not a killer?”

  He cut his eyes back to mine. “I am, but not like Con.”

  “So, not for money?”

  “Not really.” He shrugged, though the nonchalance didn’t carry through the rest of him. He was tense, but tried to play it off. “Only if I have to. Con’s a specialist. An independent contractor, I guess you’d say. I’m more of a company guy.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “That’s on a need to know basis.” He flashed me a brilliant smile, one that I was sure dropped more than a few panties. “And you don’t need to know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as you two clear up”—I waved my hand in a vague arc—“whatever this is you’ve gotten me into, I don’t care about the details.”

  “That’s the smart way to be.” He ran his hands down his thi
ghs, as if wiping our conversation off onto his jeans.

  “Do you think it’ll all be solved today?”

  “No way to know. We’ll know more when Con gets back.”

  “How long will that take?” I glanced at the digital clock on the TV’s receiver. Only half an hour before I was supposed to open the shop.

  “I don’t know. He had to drive out of town to meet with the boss, so at least a couple hours.”

  I didn’t like the idea of Con possibly discussing my fate with his boss. What if Con decided I was expendable? Did I still want to be around when he got back? Nate might not have been a killer, but I’d seen Con’s remorseless way of doing business. I had to get out of the apartment.

  I rose. “I have to go. My shop—”

  “No way.” Nate ran a hand through his dark hair, giving it an even messier look. Almost boyish. “He said you need to stay here.”

  I had to think fast. “If I don’t open my shop, people will start asking questions, and then we’ll have another heap of trouble on our hands. Mr. Chan may have already called the police. I’m usually at work by now, sorting through the flower deliveries. The second he sees them piled up outside, he’ll know something’s up.”

  He shot me a look, one that said he knew bullshit when he smelled it. “Give Mr. Chan a call and tell him you’re out sick.”

  Shit. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ve never failed to open the shop. Ever. I don’t even have my phone on me. I’d be calling him from a strange number. After yesterday’s shootout and my quick exit, do you really think he won’t be suspicious?”

  He narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking over my words. “Con said to stay here—”

  “You said he won’t be back for a couple hours. In that time, we could go to my shop, and I could bring in the deliveries. And then call Mr. Chan to tell him I’ll be closed for a few days. All problems solved. We’ll get back here before Conrad even knows we’ve been gone.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Do you like the sound of police sirens better? Mr. Chan won’t hesitate to call the cops. I don’t know how messy Berty and his pals were, but if the cops can trace me to Lerner, then they can trace me to you.”

  “Shit.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, stared at it for a few minutes as if trying to decide whether to call Con. After a few moments, he stuffed it back into his pocket. He gave me a hard look. “If this is some sort of ploy, it won’t work. I may not kill for a living, but that doesn’t mean I’m a nice guy.”

  “I understand. No funny business.”

  A humming sound careened across the room, followed by a tinny voice. “Cothard’s delivery.”

  He gave me a piercing stare. “Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this.” He stood and walked past me. “We’ll eat on the way.”

  The shop’s back door was unlocked, though no one seemed to have taken the opportunity to sneak in and raid the flowers. The relative warmth of the back room hit me along with the comforting smell of lilies. It mixed with the hint of Con left on his overcoat, which I’d donned before leaving the apartment, and put me at ease. Why did the masculine scent of a killer soothe me? I brushed the question aside and strode to the white cabinets along the right wall.

  “Hey, what are you up to?” Nate scanned the room, then peeked into the front of the shop. Once satisfied we were alone, he leaned against the door frame separating the front and back.

  “I have some fresh clothes in here.” I pulled down a small bag from the top shelf.

  “Hang on.” He walked over and felt through the bag. “Can’t have you going Annie Oakley on me.”

  “I don’t own a gun.”

  “No?” He felt around and grinned as he pulled out a pair of my panties. “You should.”

  I snatched the fabric away from him. “Turn around so I can change.”

  He returned to the doorframe. “I won’t turn my back on you, but I won’t look, either.” He stared out the front window.

  “You better not.”

  “I said I won’t. My word is good.” He kept his eyes trained away from me as I stripped out of Con’s clothes and into my own.

  With far more care than necessary, I folded his shirt and shorts and pressed them into my bag.

  “Okay, so, now you get the flowers, call Mr. Chan, and then we get the hell out of here, right?” Nate glanced back at me.

  “Right.” I headed to the front door, unlocked it, and pulled in the three boxes sitting right outside. Fresh flowers from Colombia, though I wondered if I’d ever get the chance to unpack them before they browned and died.

  “Flowers are done.” Nate kept one hand pressed against his stomach, close to the gun in his shoulder holster. “Now call Mr. Chan.”

  “All right.” I walked to my counter and took a deep breath.

  A pair of scissors sat next to the phone. I always used them to cut ribbon, the blades sharp and precise. Did I have the nerve to use them on Nate? I wasn’t sure. Picking up the receiver, my hand shook, though I dialed Mr. Chan’s number without incident.

  “Cleaners!” he answered with his usual bark.

  “Hey, Mr. Chan, it’s Charlie—”

  “I know who it is. The phone told me.”

  “Sure. I just wanted to say I’ll be closing shop for a couple days.”

  “Why?” He spoke over the noise of Mrs. Chan speaking in rapid Chinese somewhere close by. “The police were looking for you yesterday, and then you just took off. They asked me where, and I told them to speak to my lawyer.”

  I smiled. “Good job, Mr. Chan.”

  “I know my rights.” He muttered something in Chinese. “So why are you leaving?”

  “Just some family stuff.” I angled my body so Nate couldn’t see me grab the scissors. “Not a big deal. If you could, have your nephew bring in any deliveries he sees out front or in back. You still have the key I gave you?”

  “Of course. We’ll take care of it.” The whir of machinery hissed through the phone, and I imagined the clothes conveyer moving like a snake behind him. “Call us if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Chan.”

  We hung up.

  “Glad that’s all straightened out.” Nate motioned toward the back door. “Now let’s hit the road before Conrad figures out I (A) stole his Benz for this little jaunt and (B) grabbed his girl.”

  “I’m not his girl.” I slid the scissors into my pocket.

  “Fine. Whoever’s girl you are, let’s go.” He stared me down.

  I swallowed hard and headed toward him. When I got to the door, I stopped, but he didn’t move.

  “After you.” He motioned for me to go first.

  I slid my hand in my pocket and gripped the scissors as I walked ahead of him. “I just need to lock up.” I pulled the scissors out and held them in front of me where he wouldn’t see them.

  “Get the lead out. We need to be back before Conrad—”

  The back door burst inward, and Conrad stalked in, fire in his eyes. When he saw the scissors in my hand, the flames burned even higher. “What the fuck?”

  In a desperate move, I swung at him. He grabbed my wrist with ease and squeezed until my hand went limp and the scissors clattered to the floor.

  “What am I going to do with you?” His words dripped with menace and a touch of something else, something that made my insides clench.

  “Scissors?” Nate grunted behind me. “Damn, girl, I thought you and I had something. Guess I was wrong.”

  Conrad dropped my wrist and turned his wrathful gaze on Nate. “I told you to stay at the apartment. To wait for me. To keep her safe.” He put his hand at my waist, his fingers sending a jolt through me.

  Trapped between the two men, my escape hopes dwindled and disappeared.

  “I guess I didn’t make myself clear.” Conrad glanced toward the front of the shop and out the plate glass window to the street.

  “You did.” Nate’s smart mouth was back in action. “I just wanted to stop
by here and get you a nice arrangement. Maybe some roses or carnations. Something to make you feel better since you got your period and all.”

  Conrad’s hand gripped me harder as he glowered at Nate. “We need to get back to my place. Now.” He pulled me closer until his arm wrapped around my waist. He smelled the same as before, the woodsy soap from his bathroom with a hint of gun oil and him.

  “Fine. I think she was almost finished with whatever flowering things she needed to do.” Nate huffed. “Then again, I don’t really know her at all, what with the scissor thing. Here I was thinking she and I were going to be bosom buddies, but then she goes and—”

  “Put a fucking sock in it. We have bigger problems.” Conrad’s voice was an irritated growl that vibrated from his chest to mine.

  “Like what?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We need to get the fuck out of here.” He took a step backwards, pulling me with him.

  “I can walk.” I pushed against his chest, the muscles hard beneath his dress shirt.

  “Yeah.” He smirked, though the tension remained in his jaw. “I saw what you got up to when Nate didn’t keep a close eye on you.” He took another step back, keeping me pressed against him as if we were dancing. “I’m keeping you close. Wouldn’t want to get gutted by a florist in a flower shop. That would ruin my reputation.”

  I glared up at him, but his grip on me didn’t loosen.

  “I still want to know what our bigger problem is.” Nate followed us toward the back of the shop.

  “I’ll tell you on the way to my place.” Conrad’s eyes lifted, staring at something toward the front of the store.

  He drew his brows together.

  “Oh, fuck.” Nate’s voice dropped. “I hate when you get that look on your—”

  “Down!” Conrad dove on top of me, and Nate ducked to the right as the front window shattered and a bullet thudded into the wall.

  12

  Conrad

  Another bullet hit the wall, and Ramone wouldn’t be far behind. I’d taken Charlie to the floor, pressing her warm body against mine. Her scent flowed around me, delicate, floral, and completely at odds with the rain of gunfire.