We’ve ended two lives tonight. Two people connected to a guy that knows us. Knows what we look like. Knows what we do for a living. Knows the client we work for. He could easily incriminate us. The reality is that we have to eliminate Ronald too. I just don’t want any more blood on my hands. Not tonight.
Ronald looks back and forth between us with terror in his eyes, especially when he looks at my brother. Cutter was the one who actually took the shots tonight, so in Ronald’s eyes Cutter is the bad cop, and I am the good cop, or at least sort of good.
“Wait!” he turns to me and begs for his life. “I’ll take the money. I’ll go far away. Out to the west coast. Wherever. Just don’t kill me.”
“Have a seat against the wall over there. Let me speak to my brother about it,” I say.
I can see the hope in Ronald’s eyes.
It is very much misplaced.
I’m no good cop.
There’ll be no discussion.
It was already decided the minute he tried to shove a knife in my gut.
I’m in my office at the club, and I smell like accelerant and smoke and sweat. I’m fucking exhausted. I’ve committed about a dozen crimes tonight, and while that wasn’t something that used to bother me, I’m starting to think that as I grow older, I’m getting softer. Or maybe it’s simply a case of me preferring to do what I do best.
Tracking and hacking.
Learning who people are, what they do, what they buy, and where they go by digging into personal emails, phone records, and work databases. Gathering intel that we can hold over them and get what we want without having to resort to blood. It’s so much easier, and it doesn’t sit on my chest like a crushing weight for days, like the shit we did tonight will.
I start backtracking the way we handled this job from start to finish. Our old boss, Joseph Masterson (Roman’s father), taught us very early on that everyone has a price, and our job is always to find it. Maybe three grand wasn’t Ronald’s price. Maybe if I hadn’t let the knife he tried to put in my side piss me off so much, and interrogated him a little further, I would have discovered his real price.
I guess I could second-guess myself all night, but what’s done is done. There will be no testimony made by him incriminating our client, and therefore we have fulfilled our end of the contract. How we fulfill it is on us. Not the client. That’s our burden to bear.
“You look like hell,” Jade notices, but I don’t respond to my little foul-mouthed distraction. I’m too fucking angry with myself for all the mistakes we made to spar with her tonight. Especially the one which almost allowed two amateurs to get the drop on me and Cutter.
“And I told you to call me when you were done,” she continues fussing.
I start to mindlessly rummage through my duffle bag for some sweats to change into. I don’t even look at her when I respond. All I want to hear her say is that she’ll agree to my terms. She’s pissing me off by taking so long.
“You don’t tell me to do anything. You’d do best to remember that shit.”
“What the hell crawled up your ass, King Kong?”
I pop my head up and look at her straight on.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that shitty nickname?”
“As if I like any of the names you call me.”
“What you like or don’t like is not important.” I’m being an asshole, but there’s something about our acerbic exchanges that always lifts my mood.
“And what are you wearing?” I ask as I run my eyes up and down her body. Questioning why she’s wearing skintight leggings and a cut off shirt, which puts all of her delicate curves on full display for every man to ogle. “Leggings are not pants.”
“What are you my daddy? When I’m not at Roman or Elizabeth’s house, I work inside of an office at a nightclub, genius. You’re lucky I don’t wear a g-string all day.”
I should be so lucky.
“I can see the imprint of your crotch.”
“Why are you even looking down there? Keep your eyes above my neck. That should help.”
“You’re distracting the men that work here dressed like that.”
Jade laughs. “They see half naked women every night, and you’re worried about them looking at me? Look at me,” she demands incredulously.
That’s the problem. I am looking. I’m always looking.
“I’m totally covered up, and I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation,” she blusters. “I can wear what I want. Even if I was walking around here in the nude, these guys should still do their jobs.”
“Now you sound ridiculous.”
“Male employees do it at strip clubs everyday.”
“They’re all gay.”
“No they aren’t.” She laughs out loud.
“Well this isn’t a strip club.”
“And there’s never been a dress code here except for wearing all black. Since when do you care what I wear to work anyway?”
“You ever heard of dressing for the job you want and not the job you have?”
I’m bullshitting so much right now, that I can smell my own self. I haven’t felt this territorial about a woman since … never. It’s embarrassing.
“So what? You want me to look like all of the corporate bitches that come sniffing around here for you every night? In silk sheath dresses. Pant suits. Ugly ass kitten heels. Is that what you want?”
She’s right about one thing. I do tend to attract the corporate types. Beautiful college educated women who come to Lotus for the overpriced mixed drinks and fantasies about getting their bad boy fixes met by fucking one of the notorious owners. But Jade’s clueless. That’s not what I want by a long shot. I don’t want corporate. I want her.
“No, Jade. Just cover up your ass.”
“Why don’t you just forget about my ass. How about that.”
I wish I could.
“I texted you earlier for a reason,” she says getting back to the original topic.
“What was it? I was too busy making sure I didn’t get myself shot in the head.”
“What else is new. Look, I’m taking the day off tomorrow.”
“That’s what you wanted? The day off,” I respond in disbelief.
“Yes, yes. I know it’s unheard of at this company,” she says in a condescending tone. “But at most places, employees actually get vacation days that they can use for whatever the hell they want.”
“You don’t.”
“Well, I am tomorrow. I’ve already cleared it with Roman, so I’m letting you and Cutter know too. You’ll have to manage without me tomorrow.”
I try not to ask, but the words tumble out of my mouth.
“What are you going to do tomorrow?”
I’m such a bitch.
“You’re so nosy. No one asked me a single thing about what I’m doing but you.”
“Just wondering what would make you take a day off of work. What couldn’t wait?”
“Wait until when? The weekend? You’ve got to be kidding me. Between the clients and the club, I work seven days a week. It’s got to be illegal how many hours I log weekly for you guys.”
“Fine, take your stinking day off,” I say, frustrated with the direction of the conversation.
She snickers, “I wasn’t asking for your permission or approval. I was just letting you know.”
“You do remember that you work for me right?” I grumble while ransacking my duffle.
“You never let me forget it.”
“When are you coming to work here full time?”
“I’m not.”
“Ungrateful brat.” Dammit, I don’t have any clean underwear. “I’m running home for an hour. Can you at least do your job while I’m gone.”
She laughs, “Go take a shower while you’re there. You stink like badly burnt barbecue.”
When I get up to leave, I can’t help myself.
Her tits are covered up, but IT is staring at me.
Taunting me.
&nb
sp; Jade’s ass.
I give it a good slap as I make my exit, and oh my fucking hell, I forgot that it jiggles.
“Hey!” She jumps in protest.
“See you later, itty bitty.” I grin. “And if you don’t want anyone to touch it, maybe you should cover it up.”
I laugh as I listen to her spew a string of curse words behind me. Something about perversion and workplace harassment, but the joke was really on me. My hand, her ass, and my dick all just shared a mutually beneficial connection that reminded me of why I want her here with me twenty-four seven. I can’t get the picture of that jiggle and the way it felt against my hand out of my head.
I’m burdened with the desire of wanting more.
I just hope she’ll put me out of my misery soon.
Eight
Jade
I’ve been staring at the blank screen of my cell phone for ten minutes. Trying to decide whether or not I’m going to call Roman, the police, or no one at all. There’s a dark blue Honda sedan parked directly across the street from my apartment building. Facing my living room window. The car has tinted windows, the lights are off, and it’s been in the same exact space all day for three whole days.
Sometimes I see the silhouette of a man sitting inside. Sometimes the car is empty. I never really get a good look at the guy getting in or out, but if I had to guess, the jackass is purposely trying to spook me.
My bosses are partners in a company that provides a very specialized service for rich bastards who can afford to pay them to clean up messy situations. I help them do that in whatever way they need me to. They usually try to tie up loose ends when we do a “fix” for a client, but there have been a few things that may have fallen through the cracks here and there, and the owner of this blue Honda parked across from my place may just be one of those things that has fallen through the cracks.
A disgruntled customer perhaps?
Yet somehow I think if there was an axe to grind or revenge to be had against us, someone would be smart enough to go after the weakest link in our circle—Roman’s cousin Elizabeth. You fuck with her and all hell will break loose. Fuck with me? Not so much.
If I was actually following protocol, I should have already told one of the guys about the Honda, but I’m not actually that worried about the car—I’m just curious. That’s why I took the day off. I’m going to do a little of my own detective work today, and find out who the hell is in this car, so I can get some actual sleep.
What does this guy want?
Is he planning to break in?
Beat me up?
Am I even on his radar, or am I being paranoid?
Maybe this isn’t connected to my job at all. Maybe he’s watching another apartment. Maybe he isn’t watching anyone at all. Hell, for all I know he could be living in that Honda. I could be starting trouble for a homeless man. It’s very possible that I’m being over suspicious, because I’ve been working for those three crazies entirely too long.
I took the day off to figure this thing out myself. No need to bother anyone else. Especially Roman. He’s got a million things on his plate right now since the engagement and baby news, and there’s no need to involve the police, because they wouldn’t do much of anything until the guy actually tries to kill me, or something.
Maybe a little exercise will get my mind off of things. It’s four o’clock anyway. Close to the time for me to meet my trainer at the gym. After Ryan puts me through an excruciating hour of lunges, squats and a few other bootcamp-like drills, I run for twenty minutes on the treadmill, and then head home after I get a call from Roman.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answer the phone a little too enthusiastically. Hoping he has something for me to do. This day off was a waste of time.
“You bored already?”
“Nope.”
“Liar.”
“Do you actually need something?”
“Well I ain’t calling to swap green drink recipes or talk shit about men.”
“That’s not all I talk about, jackass.”
“I need you to make a run.”
Thank God. A reason to stop driving myself crazy with this Honda business.
“Where?”
“I need you to grab a couple of things for me at the mall. I’ll text you a list and the stores that they’re at.”
“The mall?!”
I hate the mall, and so does Roman. The only thing he could possibly want there would be shit for his fiancée. I pop the wad of gum in my mouth loudly a few extra times, because I know it gets on his nerves, and because this isn’t the type of “run” I was hoping for.
“You actually think I’m your personal assistant don’t you?”
“Yes the hell I do, because you are.”
“I’m not her assistant.”
“You’re right, you’re mine, and if I ask you to go to the mall, then you go to the mall.”
“I don’t do grunt work.”
“We’ve been over this ad nauseam. I’d be totally interested in hearing what exactly you think your job title and description are if it ain’t to do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”
This type of banter has always been part of my relationship with Roman and the King brothers. We’re friends first, close friends, but they’re also my employers. So I try my best never to cross a line with them, but it’s difficult sometimes. The lines can get blurry. Especially because they all have such strong personalities, and I’m a woman who’s never going to act like some meek little assistant without a brain or an opinion. That’s just not who I am.
“Slave would be a more accurate title,” I deadpan.
“Slave’s don’t get wages.”
“You’re always throwing your money in my face, rich boy.”
“Yet you seem to cash the checks every single damn week.”
“Whatever. Just text me what I need to get. It better not be thongs or something gross for your cousin. Oops I mean … fiancée.”
“You’re cruising for a bruising.”
“Cruising for a bruising? Gah!” I laugh out loud. “My nana use to say that, old man, and that was a hundred years ago.”
“One more thing, Jade.”
“What else?”
“This is going to be your last personal run for me for awhile. We need you to take the reins over at Lotus until we get a handle on this Miami job.”
“What?”
I can’t believe it. That freaking Camden.
“Just for a month or two. Three months tops.”
“How convenient.”
“What are you talking about?”
He’s playing stupid.
“Will today count as day one?” I ask calling his bluff.
“If Cam says it does, then it does.”
I knew it.
“So he’s in charge now?”
“The Kings and I run a partnership. This isn’t like Masterson & Associates where we all worked for Joseph, and I was the heir apparent. It’s different now. We make decisions equally. If he says we need you at the club, then we need you at the club. If Cutter said that he needed your help with Mendez, then you’d probably be helping him with Mendez. Is there a problem?”
Why is he playing this game with me? I know he’s suspected for the longest time that something happened between me and Camden. Hell, Cam may have even told him. I don’t know what those blockheads talk about when they’re out on Roman’s boat fishing and drinking.
“Roman,” I whine. “I don’t want to be stuck inside of that club all day everyday. I’m there enough as it is. I’m going to kill somebody, if I don’t feel the sun on my skin on a daily basis.”
“Kill somebody in particular I bet.” He chuckles.
How can the two of them be so shamelessly in cahoots with each other?
“First you send me on an errand for your cousin, and now you want to stick me in a dark office all day with the King brothers. What have I ever done to you to deserve this treatment?”
“I think what
you meant to say is that I’m sending you on an errand for my fiancée and the future mother of my child, and that I’m giving you the honor and privilege of running the hottest club in the city.”
I pull the phone back from my face, look at it, and roll my eyes.
“See how I reframed that?” he asks loud enough for me to still hear.
“Bastard.”
“Hanging up now, munchkin,” he says with an irritatingly chipper voice. “Will send you that text shortly.”
Watching Roman fall in love has probably been one of the funniest and most ridiculous things I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s changed him. I mean who in their right mind falls in love with their cousin? Okay—step cousin or cousin by marriage but whatever. She’s more family to him than I am, and I would never sleep with him. I mean he’s hot and all, but ewww, that’s just a line I would never cross. Of course that’s the same thing I would have sworn about Camden a few months ago, and now look at me. Stuck working with him for thirty days, so that he can attempt to get inside of my panties again. As if I’d ever be that stupid a second time.
After I shower to rid myself of the bad juju that’s clearly following me around, I get a call from Camden which makes me seriously consider the magnitude of what I’m going to be dealing with over the next thirty days of my life.
A man that’s always in my business.
Always watching me.
Terribly judgmental.
Extremely overprotective.
And I suppose that I should add that he’s also ridiculously sexy.
Even before sleeping with him, there was no denying it. Out of my three employers, Camden King has been the most blessed with all of God’s good intentions: body, brains, and badass swagger.
“Hey, itty bitty.”
“What’s up, King Kong?”
“Heard you’re taking a mall run.”
“Did your boyfriend tell you that, or are you tapping my phone calls now?”
Camden is a technical genius with an extremely curious nature. I wouldn’t put it past him and his stalkerish tendencies to have tapped all of our cell phones (for our own good of course); although I wish he’d use his superpowers for good, like breaking into the TransUnion or Equifax’s servers and fixing my shitty credit report.
The King Brothers Boxed Set Page 6
