Losing Enough

by Helen Boswell

  She looks down at her hand after I release it, and tigress Maya is finally all the way subdued. “All right. For a day or two. And your partner… Neil? I’ll work with him under the condition that he checks in with you every day.”

  “Deal.”

  “What does he look like, so I know it’s him when he shows up?”

  I nod, thinking the same thing. “Black guy around my age, a few inches shorter than me, brown eyes, cleft chin, muscular. Dresses pretty casual.”

  Maya nods back and strokes her hair a little absently, like her head’s already somewhere else. I wait until the door clicks behind her and the bolt engages before I walk away.

  Neil Dufort and I were SEALs together, and he’s a totally solid guy. He’s originally from Colorado Springs but after his deployment was up, came out here to help his ailing mom. She passed away last year, and he’s been working on getting his engineering degree, doing the security thing part-time. The only reason he partnered up with me is because I asked him if he would. He has a different working style than I do, simple and with very little small talk. Given how short Maya has seemed the past day or so, maybe that’ll be a good thing.

  I go to my contacts list and hit his number. He and I don’t call each other unless it’s an emergency. Even though we’re business partners, we have our own client lists and work mostly autonomously these days.

  “What do you need?” he says right away.

  “I need you to take Maya Coplin for me. At least for a day but potentially longer.” I give him the lowdown of her schedule in brief. “Can you do it?”

  His silence fills the line. He knows exactly who Maya is, and he also knows that the fact that I’m turning her over to him isn’t good. But Neil is a strictly need-to-know guy, and he doesn’t ask me what’s going on.

  “I can do it.”

  “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” I take another minute to fill him in on her details. Hotel name, room number, the agreement that he check in with me every day. I have a feeling Maya will either try to work her charms on Neil or give him hell. Either way, he can find out about her eccentricities himself. “And Neil?” My hand clenches into a fist before releasing. “My brother is in town. Tell me if you see him. We’re twins, so you’ll know it if you do.”

  There’s another small hesitation. “Sure, Connor. I’ll check in with you in the morning.”

  I end the call, feeling like the burden is only slightly off my chest. Neil’s a formidable and dangerous guy – not that I’m not, but he’s more of the thug type than the boy toys that Maya prefers. She’ll be in good hands with him, especially if I’m not around to draw Cruz near.

  Maya’s statement about waiting and seeing what Cruz wanted was perfectly logical. Except it wasn’t accurate – I told her I didn’t know how much trouble I was in, not that I didn’t know what’s going on. And Cruz said much more than that without verbalizing it. He deliberately displayed his tattoo on his arm to me, like a beacon and horrific reminder of who he is.

  Message received, loud and clear. He’s here representing the gang.

  Cruz is standing in the same place, leaning against the wall but now with half a glass of whiskey in his hand. He doesn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence until I get within earshot.

  “God, I love this fucking city. I need this kind of sweet action back at home.” He nods appreciatively as a cocktail waitress walks by.

  I bite back what I really want to say, that I’ll get him all of the cocktail waitresses he wants if he gets the hell out of my city.

  “What do you want?” I demand.

  Cruz turns his full attention to me, his gaze hard, impenetrable. “You haven’t changed a bit, little brother. You still have shit for patience.”

  “Interesting you’d say that.” I keep my voice steady, low. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait a few short hours to meet as planned. Might as well get down to business.”

  He raises an eyebrow before tipping back more whiskey. “You wanna do this here then? Or somewhere where we can actually talk?”

  Talking to him like this feels too familiar, like we picked up right where we left off seven years ago. I don’t like it.

  I start walking toward the sports bar, which isn’t too crowded this time of the day, Cruz matching me step by step. We’re a world away from the streets of Albuquerque. But something about us being together now stirs up the same feelings as back then. Cruz exudes that same insane level of confidence, like he’s invincible and can take out anyone that gets in his way. I’m sure that attitude is what got him picked up in the first place by the street gang, one of dozens in the city. He’d talked up the lifestyle to me, tried to convince me to join him.

  If that’s why Cruz is here now, if he wants me to join, I can tell him to go to hell. I was never affiliated with them, aside from having Cruz as my brother. But I can totally envision Cruz getting himself into a mess back home and trying to pull some shit move. Trying to use his Navy SEAL brother as collateral or something.

  We get to the sports bar area, and I gesture to a free table against the wall. Cruz nods his assent and takes the lead again, beckoning to a waitress as we sit down. She walks over briskly, her eyes shifting back and forth between me and Cruz. I know her from having been here with clients before, a brunette named Heather who’s working her way through law school at UNLV. She’s good at her job, doesn’t take shit from customers, and I’m honestly sorry she’s going to have to deal with my brother.

  “Hey, Connor. Didn’t know you had a twin.” She balances her tray on her hip, giving me a wink. “What can I bring you two?”

  Cruz leans back in his chair and grins. “My brother probably wants a Guinness. And I want you on your hands and knees after you get off work. Unless Connor’s already fucked you, then bring me someone else.”

  Heather’s eyebrows shoot straight up, and she flicks me a look that reads, Are you shitting me?

  “You can go up to the bar and get your own drink,” she snaps at Cruz. “Connor, what do you want? And no offense, but your brother’s an asshole.”

  I stare back at her. Oh…hell. The look is meant for my brother, but it stirs up a recent memory. That’s pretty much exactly the look that Alex gave me the very first time I’d met her. At the bar when I hit her with a line not any better than Cruz’s.

  It’s a miracle that she even talks to me. And let me kiss her. My brother’s an asshole, but I haven’t been any better than him in that department.

  “Make that a Sin City Amber for me.” I give her a grim smile. “And yeah. Tell me about it.”

  Cruz looks amused as she leaves, and when he turns to me, his entire demeanor changes. He sits up straight, a greedy shine in his eye. My guard is already up, but I heft on another layer.

  Stay cool.

  He bares his teeth in a smile. “Elle tells me that you’ve been doing well for yourself here.”

  I bristle at how he says it, like he and Elle are tight and I’m the one that’s been out of the picture for almost a decade. “You have her fooled into thinking that you’re a good guy now, but she’ll catch on to you if you stick around. She’s not stupid.”

  His eyes narrow. “She believes what she wants to. We all do. She believes that you’re good, doesn’t she?”

  I know how Cruz is, know how he good he is at manipulating people. But what he says hits me hard anyway. Because Elle does believe it, that I’m a good guy, and I’m not sure I totally deserve that. Some things you can’t leave behind, no matter how hard you try.

  I try to hide my reaction from him, but he’s watching me like a hawk, and I know from the smirk on his face that he sees it. But Heather walks over right then with my beer, her body language deliberately shutting Cruz out.

  “Here you go, hun. I put it on your tab.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  Cruz’s eyes zoom in on her ass as she walks away, and I notice it more this time. I force down the bile in my throat as he turns to me, his eyes gleaming. “Goddam
n. That’s some prime pussy right there, yeah?”

  “Wouldn’t know,” I grit out. “But I can tell you that she’s more than that.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, well, she looks like a cocktail waitress to me. Same fucking thing.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know what? I’m really happy for you. It’s obvious you found yourself a good little niche out here.”

  I lean forward, my patience at its limit. “C’mon. You don’t give a damn about me or Elle, or anyone unless you want something. So tell me what it is. You were the one who hunted me down today. Why? Afraid of Elle being around to witness your bullshit?”

  He drums his fingers on the table, his smile gone. “She has good intentions, but I don’t want her involved in this, no. Elle served her purpose in telling me how to find you.”

  I can see it, how he thinks he’s wearing a badge of honor because he’s sparing Elle from this madness. Never mind the fact that she wants to give Cruz a second chance, that she actually has some hope from him. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t want him around anyone I care about. He’s totally unpredictable, a loose cannon that can fly off the handle at any moment. But I know it’s going to hit Elle hard if he breaks off contact from her after this visit.

  “You and I were done seven years ago.” I stare at him in contempt. “Don’t tell me you’re here to ask for my forgiveness.”

  He narrows his eyes. “I’m gonna be straight with you. Things have been kinda crazy at home. Dad’s been really sick lately. In fact, he’s dying. Lung cancer, in case you give a shit…”

  Cruz’s home, not mine. And no, I don’t give a shit about our father. Not even if he’s dying.

  “…and business has been okay lately. I’ve been doing all right. But not as good as you’re doing. And it got me thinking. You and Elle being out here living the good life and me all by myself.”

  I suddenly know where he’s going with this. No. Hell no. His “business” isn’t even equivalent to what I do, not equivalent to what any sane person would do. If he says what I think he’s going to say, that he wants to be out here, that wants me to hand over even a fraction of what I’ve worked so hard for, I’m gonna lose my shit.

  “Leave Elle out of this,” I growl. “This is between you and me.”

  “I told you. Elle’s out. She doesn’t owe me like you do, anyway.”

  Owe him. After what he did to Laura, I owe him? I’m tempted to take him out, to put an end to this right now. If it weren’t for Elle, I just might.

  “What are you talking about?” I snap.

  “Right after Dad went after you with the bottle. When things got a little better after that.” He leans forward, his eyes still narrowed and glinting like a slice of malice. “You didn’t forget about all that shit we went through before you ran away to the Navy, did you?”

  He glances at my left arm, and I hesitate. Of course I remember.

  We were fifteen. Don’t know why I bothered, but I was picking up beer bottles that our father had littered throughout the living room. I didn’t realize one was almost full and spilled almost all of it on the carpet, not that it should have even mattered, because our carpet was pretty much trashed with spills and burn marks. But our father walked in and saw me trying to clean up the mess, and he happened to be high out of his mind. Smashed one of the bottles and came after me. I tried to fight back, but the broken glass sliced open my arm before I could.

  I’ll never get the image of Cruz out of my head from that day. Came rushing out of our bedroom with a baseball bat and yelling at the top of his lungs. Cracked our father across the shoulders and didn’t let up on him when he crashed down to the floor. Cruz went ballistic, kicking him over and over again, his face twisted with murderous rage.

  Things did get better after that. Our father never laid a hand on either of us again, and I focused on getting the hell out of there. I’d decided by that time that I’d try to get into the military and started spending my afternoons after school at the YMCA. My uncle – Elle’s dad – knew a guy who volunteered there who was Navy SEAL, and he became my mentor, helped me prepare for the physical screening test and get my contract when I was eighteen.

  “Why do you think Dad left us alone after that?” Cruz’s voice is low, steady and in control. “You think he suddenly woke up one day and felt bad about everything? Or do you think maybe we got protection from someone else?”

  Protection. It’s like all of the air left my lungs, and I can’t get another breath. I fight for it, struggle to understand.

  “You…you got that gang of yours to protect us?” I stare at him in horror as he sits back in his seat with a smug look on his face. “Why? We were both pretty much out of the house by then. We survived that long. We would have made it without gang protection. You didn’t have to do that.”

  His expression contorts, flips from smug to furious in two seconds flat. His hands clench into fists, his body almost shaking with rage.

  “But I did. And now I’m here to collect,” he snarls. “Elle told me what you do. I want a piece of your action here, brother. Hook me up with those rich assholes you work for.”

  “No.” I keep my voice even, firm. “That would never work, not with your background.”

  He shrugs, like he already knows this. “I’m not talking ‘bout working for you. These fuckers are so rich you could easily skim off their winnings without them knowing. Pay me a percentage of their winnings – I’ll let you decide what you can get away with – and in exchange I’ll offer extra protection.” He grins, looking all the more like a wolf. “From me.”

  I feel like I’m burning up inside. I don’t want to listen to any more of this bullshit, but now that he has the opportunity, he won’t shut up.

  “Or give me an in to this city. You have a lot of local contacts here. Bellhops, concierges, dealers, cocktail waitresses. All you gotta do is make the introductions, set up my street cred for me here, and I’ll take care of the rest. Expand out on what I’m already doing back home.” He taps his temple with a fingertip. “See, I thought it out ahead of time so I could provide you with all sorts of options.”

  I shove back my chair and stand up. He stays seated, looking calmly up at me, and part of me feels sorry for him. I’m sorry he felt like he’s had to make the choices that he did. I’m sorry he feels like the only way he can ask for help is by using Elle and threatening me. If anything, maybe I can appeal to the criminal logic that sure as hell has to be up in his brain somewhere.

  “You’re crazy if you think you can come to Vegas and do what you’ve been doing back in Albuquerque. Vegas territory is all staked out by people way more powerful than you. They’ll bury you within a week if you try to pull your bush-league shit here, get that?”

  He looks taken aback, but just for a second before he recovers. “Aw, that’s sweet, little brother. You still care.”

  I glare at him. “Go back home. Start over. Clean up your life.”

  He glances down at his tattoo. “Can’t do that. I got special permission for this little vacation, to catch up with family. I’m here through the month, so you have plenty of time to decide on your answer. We need to get over this bad blood between us, Connor. Look…” His voice changes, becomes smoother. “I know you’ll never forgive me for Laura. I’ve accepted that. But I hope you’ll be willing to move on.”

  Motherfucker.

  He has no right to say her name. The guilt over Laura, self-loathing for myself, hatred for Cruz, everything I’ve harbored inside me mixes like chemicals in a volatile reaction. I’ve kept it all inside me for years, and it suddenly detonates. I jump across the table and grab him, and I have just enough time to register his grin before I throw a hard punch to his jaw. He staggers and falls back into his chair, and I really want to go after him again, to bust open his face for that comment.

  Fuck this. I’m breathing hard, every muscle in my body tight because he riled me up, and he’s sitting there shaking from silent laughter as he rubs his chi
n. He can go to hell.

  “The answer’s no,” I snap. “And that’s not ever gonna change.” I start to walk away, but he calls out my name.

  “Connor.” His voice is sharp, and despite my better judgment, I stop and listen.

  He stands up too, walks over to me, and leans forward so the stench of whiskey fills the space between us. His face turns hard, all traces of humor gone.

  “If you say no, I will go to Elle. She has contacts in this city, too. And I might be wrong, but she actually still likes me.” He adds firmly. “I’ll give you til the end of the month to think about it.”

  The end of the month – just over three weeks away. I won’t need that long to tell him no again, but throwing Elle into the mix like that makes me hesitate. I think he’s bluffing, though I do have to wonder what the hell he’s going to be doing here for that entire time. It’s been years, but I still know my brother, and there’s no fucking way he’ll just be sightseeing or lying by the pool.

  At the very least, I’ll convince Elle what a bastard he is. I start to walk away.

  “Connor, who is she?” he calls from behind me. “¿Quién es la puta? What’s she to you?”

  Who’s the whore? I stop in my tracks, an angry tic in my jaw as he adds, “She’s one sexy piece of ass. Though I gotta say. I thought you always went for the blondes, not the redheads.”

  My hands clench, my blood rushes, and when I turn around, he’s wearing that shit-eating grin, the same one he had when I first spotted him in the hallway. Before I played into everything he wanted.

  I almost go after him again for making the comment about Alex. But if he already has the advantage in this game, I can at least demand one thing in exchange.

  My hand lands on the butt of my Sig, and I know he sees it. “Okay,” I spit out. “I’ll give you an answer at the end of the month. But on one condition. You promise to stay the hell out of my life until then. And leave the people in it alone.”