by Liz K. Lorde
I look at Ray for a little while, not eating from the bowl of cereal, “What’s it matter to you?” I raise both brows and scrunch my face.
He draws his head back and shakes almost imperceptibly, “It doesn’t, I was just, you know. I’m just curious girl! I know he has the money.” Ray sinks back further into the couch and runs the tips of his fingers through his golden and wavy hair. “That’s why I pushed him on to you,” he adds beneath his breath.
I shrug, “It’s not a big deal.”
He gives me that dastardly stare, and I feel like his mustache wants to slap me and I can practically hear him in my mind: ‘Will you just tell me?’
So I say, “It’s just three hundred.” I slurp some more of the indulgently sweet sugar milk.
And that’s when Ray says something I don’t expect, more so in his inflection: “Three hundred? That’s all?!”
I pull my head back, “It’s per day.” Still, Ray doesn’t look impressed. “Ray, Ray. How is that not good enough? Last time I had the pleasure of coming home to seeing you drunk and half nude, you were wearing a prepackaged thing of green Hanes underwear. It’s not like you go out and get your pajamas hand stitched by trend setting artisans… how is that not impressive?”
His eyes move to the corner, and his lips follow this same action, making him look like a cat that was somehow impossibly displeased with me. “Welllll,” he says in an ascending pitch.
“What.”
“It’s just that—“
“What,” I repeat.
“It’s just that seems,” his cheeks go up, and his lips stay flat, and his brows furrow just a tad, “kind of low.”
“Low how?”
“I mean, I didn’t want to tell you this,” Ray says, “but he’s part of the mob. He makes big money, and he makes it dirtier than a rented out Spanish pool boy trying to pay his way through college.”
What. “Excuse me? He’s a part of mob? And you didn’t even think to tell me?” No wonder he’s got such a nice place, nice clothes and not least of all a rocking body.
No, no thinking about that asshole’s hot body. Just by me being associated with him, that puts my whole new life in danger
“Well we both need the money,” Ray argues, “I figured I’d tell you eventually if you stay too long. But hey since you’re not dead or nothin’, might as well stretch things out V.”
Warmth blooms in the back of my skull, and fire licks at the soles of my feet. “No,” I clip, getting up with a rushed and frantic energy. I hastily put the bowl of cereal onto the coffee table, “I’m calling it off with this guy. It’s too dangerous and he didn’t tell me, that’s completely messed up, Ray.”
Ray just lifts his shoulder and throws up his hands, “I mean it’s not like the mob just goes out announcing that they’re the mob.” Ray immediately freezes in a moment of utter reconsideration, “okay well, actually, that doesn’t count for these guys. Girl if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re new here, you’d have that shit figured out in a quickness.”
CHAPTER 8
CONNIFER
MOONLIGHT POURS lackadaisically through the window of my master bedroom, bathing everything in shades of silver. I’m listening to Morgana on the baby monitor beside my bed, and it sounds like she’s sleeping fairly soundly now that I’ve gone and rocked her to sleep. Turning in bed, I grab one of my pillows and smash it against my face, letting the coolness of it seep into my skin and nourish my bones.
There is a twist of sadness in my chest. And I recall all the lost years I spent hungry and in search of my father.
When I hear my phone buzz on the table, I let it go, just wanting to get some sleep for once. After the eighth time it goes off, I push out a breath through my nose, pick the pillow from my head and turn on my side; I wriggle over to the end of the bed, moving with my elbows and upper body, and I scoop up my cell.
Seeing who had the nerve to call me this late at night, I see there’s a voice mail from Helena, and my heart instantly falls in my chest.
I rub the sleep from my heavy eyes and start listening to the voice mail
Helena
[Hushed] Hey Con, I hope you’re doing okay. My ‘cell mate’ Raina is letting me use her phone to call. I just wanted to thank you, for what you’re doing for me. For my little girl. I’m going to be out of here soon, I promise… tell Morg that mommy loves her very much… [Muffled rattling, then a click]
Why should it make me worrisome that she’s wanting to see her daughter again? It’s not like I’m attached the child. Am I? Gah. Makes me sick to think about that child growing up with her, though. She shouldn’t be getting out this early… she needs to get healthy for her kid.
I look to the open door of my room, my feet touching the wooden floor as I stare out into blackness. The blackness only invites bad thoughts; dancing demons and their many glowing pokers. Dad. Getting shot, stabbed, beaten; having to kill bad people, having to kill good people.
The worst thought, though. The one that cuts straight at my heart, is the hopeless one. The sense of never can be.
Every time I see that girl before I’m to leave, Vivian, every time… I feel this magnetism.
But a girl like her, she’s not meant for a life like this.
Rolling my shoulders, I take in a breath. Not a moment later, and I hear a pounding noise.
That’s got to be the front door.
Exhilaration fills me, and a sense of annoyance pounds at my temples. This had better not be work related, or so help me, I will make the anger of Hades look nothing more than a child’s tantrum. Soon as I pick myself up from the bed, the pounding on the front door comes again – louder this time.
“Alright!” I boom, feeling the energy of my voice radiate throughout my body. I hastily glide through the house and to my front door, unlocking the chain and opening the door to reveal a very pissed Vivian.
Damn if she didn’t look sexier when mad. Course, what’s she so mad about? I lean outside of my door, but stand in the way of her so that she can’t come in, “What the hell are you doin’ here, Princess. You’re gonna wake the baby—“
“You asshole,” she says loudly and puts her hands on my chest, shoving at me but moving me nowhere.
Well she’s not wrong, and it’s somethin’ that I’m used to hearin’. “Cut it out,” I growl, “what’s your problem? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” She asks, and it’s not a question, “what’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I know you work for the fucking mob.”
“Just announce it to the world, why don’t you,” I tell her through clenched teeth, my chest tightening with delight and anger both. “I don’t work for the mob,” I tell her, my voice becoming sotto. “I am the mob.”
She raises her chin just slightly, and she shakes her head from left to right, right to left, and then so again. “That’s not any better. I can’t… I can’t be expected to put my life in danger by associating with you.” She starts to turn, and I can tell that she’s getting ready to leave – but I’m not done talking. I’m not about to let her get away from me so quickly.
I reach out my hand and grab her wrist, and she turns her head to look at me when I pull her hard to me. She’s so close to me now the heat of our bodies can mingle with each other. Every part of my body is dancing with electricity, and just looking into her fiery hazel eyes I can sense her hidden desires; can taste how unsure she truly is, how much a part of her doesn’t want to leave.
“The only thing dangerous here is the way I catch you lookin’ at me,” I murmur in her ear, “trust me when I tell you, the others before you didn’t leave because they ever felt unsafe.”
She swallows and tightens her jaw, “Let go,” she says firmly, but with an undercurrent of need. It was a tone I’d heard many times, both sober and drunk. If it were any other girl I’d have stripped the girl of her dripping panties the very first day. But not this one. No. There was something about her that made me want to take care, to take time.
> After a second longer, I let go of her delicate wrist, but she does not move, “Nobody messes with me, lass. And nobody, nobody’s gonna mess with you.” I search her eyes, feeling my heart tap quicker and quicker still against my chest. I step forward, and she steps back, never breaking contact. “So you tell me,” I rasp, “is my word not good enough?” I continue to move in on her, so much so that she backs up against the hallway wall.
“I want double what you’re paying me,” she says.
“Are you extortin’ me right now, sweetheart,” I throw my hands to the wall, on either side of her shoulder. “Because that would be very, very unwise.”
Her breath hitches in her inviting throat, “I am,” she says it so quietly, like she’s afraid that I might actually hear the words from her lips. “And I want you to promise me that no harm will come my way.”
My eyes dip to her luscious lips, and the tension between us becomes a private storm of unspoken lust. “Sorry my little brat,” I susurrate, I’m sure that I can keep her safe from danger. But I know that I’m the most destructive force in my life. That I’ll burn her up if she gets too close. “But I don’t do promises.” I crash my lips against her own. It’s a hungry kiss, full of passion and want and need. She doesn’t resist it. No. She embraces it. Bringing my hands from her shoulders, down to her hips, I pull her against me – savoring the way she feels to my touch.
We break from our little moment of bliss, and for a brief moment after – there’s delight glazed over in her eyes. Until she pushes me off of her with a quick, hard shove. “Then I don’t do this,” she tells me, giving me one last look before walking away at a brisk pace.
“You don’t show up tomorrow,” I call out, “and that’s it, lass!” A thorn of heat pricks at my chest while I watch Vivian saunter her ass away.
CHAPTER 9
CONNIFER
SHE NEVER DID SHOW UP.
And that ate away at me for the last three days. I’d never had a woman kiss me like that before; never had one walk away from me, either. Now while I’m sitting at HQ with the others and eating, she’s all that I can think about. We’re eating in one of the private mess halls, really just a big open conference type room able to feed thirty guests at a time. The red door at the north end of the room leads to the party room, which is really just a den for drugs, booze and girls. Can’t say that I didn’t used to enjoy it, because I definitely did.
Now my head’s stuck somewhere else… on someone else.
I had to get some of the boys to look after Morgana while I picked out a replacement sitter. I’m sure that’ll be a real sight to behold.
Sitting at the long white dinning table, I casually prod at the remains of the food on my plate. Bourbon glazed new york strip seared on the grill tickles my nose, inviting me to take a few bites more. The roasted asparagus touched with a kiss of lemon mingles with the steak, and I can practically taste the delicious acid of it on my tongue even still, making my mouth water. Buttered potatoes with a dash of black pepper and crushed up garlic, yeah, I’d say that I’m eating well tonight.
As for who was sitting at the table besides me. Well, there’s Leo at the head of table with the bride-to-be Tabitha. Now Leo? He’s one slick cat with a peculiar sense of style. Dark green and slicked back hair, white suit with a blue shirt and tie, and green eyes that could make him your saint, or your worst nightmare. Tabitha? Oh she’s a looker. Black frame glasses, big brown eyes with flecks of gold, and a nice head of long, wavy brown hair. Angelina is here too, and yeah I once had a thing for her. She likes to dress sharply, as she’s doing tonight, in a black suit and wearing her red earrings, framed by wavy hazel hair that’s quite a touch brighter than Tabitha’s. We’ve all gathered to plan the heist—more of a stunt—for the Wolfinger Bank.
“You’re looking extra gloomy, Con,” Leo insists, waving a forkful of food as he speaks. “Something on your mind?” He puts the morsel of food into his mouth, chews, swallows, and then goes, “besides the usual lust for street pussy, I mean.”
I smirk and look to the man,” Nothin’ in particular,” I tell him. For some reason though, the thought of other women just didn’t interest me right now; and that’s pretty strange for a guy such as myself. Normally it was the thing that kept me from going insane. That and a good splash of Bailey’s with my whiskey.
Leo just smiles wider, flashing me his teeth, “Word’s your word, now,” he reminds me, “I know you’re lying. But I won’t press. So long as you’re not too distracted,” Leo rolls his shoulders, “then I couldn’t give a fuck. Now—“ Leo leans forward into the table, and his voice drops to a sotto, “if it is a distraction, then we’re all going to have a very big problem. So let me be clear, do we have a problem?”
Leonardo, at the end of the day, he was my boss. My longest and dearest friend, but that only made him all the more capable of seeing through my shit. I just solemnly nod, “There’s no problem,” but I’m not telling the truth.
I’ve never had a bigger problem in my life.
The boss just leans back in his chair and nods at me in acknowledgment.
Angelina clears her throat before going for her nearly empty glass of red wine. She drinks from it slowly, and then sets it down on the table, “Are we going to get into it now?” She asks.
Tabitha answers for the boss, “If we’ve all finished our meals, then yes. By all means, start us off.”
Angelina was an old member of the family, but she didn’t originally work for Leo or my’s crew. She got transferred over from Skidrow to Chaos when civil war broke between Leo and his brother. “Riley and Niss are gearing up on social media. There’s going to be hundreds of people there.”
Leonardo come hithers for Tabitha, and she glides over to his lap. Leo moves his head so that he can see past Tabitha, “That’ll keep Blackwatch’s trigger fingers restrained.” Blackwatch are what the big players employ to protect their assets. War vets, gun enthusiast, orphaned kids with something to prove. Worst of all? They siphon people from the slave trade to kill for them. Yeah, these guys don’t fuck around, but we’ve got a plan to skirt around them.
“Yes,” Angelina agrees.
I set my silverware on the plate in front of me, trying to keep myself in place with the conversation, instead of daydreaming about what happened with Vivian. “Blackwatch will be out in full force because of your stunt, ‘ya know.”
Leo’s eyes flick to me, “They won’t be a problem, we already know exactly how they’re going to respond to the situation.”
Angelina adds, “Myra’s been securing points on the rooftops with her team for the past several days, the only thing we should have to worry about will be on the ground floor.”
“That’s not a concern,” I tell her. “Me, Dennis and Jace have got it all covered already. We’ll be in and out within ten minutes, all we need is for Leo to bring the noise.”
AFTER WE’VE DELVED DEEPER into the details of our bait-and-switch heist, Leonardo and me are the last one’s to get up from dinner. They’ll be having a big party tonight in anticipation, I’m sure.
“You want me to send a few girls your way, Con?” Leonardo asks. “They’ve been missing your company you know,” he smiles, “all the ladies at Blackstar keep looking for you, so I keep hearing.”
“No,” I clip, “no girls.”
“You sure?” He asks. This must seem pretty unusual from his point of view.
“Positive, lad.”
Leo snorts, “Your head must not be screwed on right. But alright.” Leonardo walks out the door to join up with the others, and I kick my legs up onto the neighboring chair, pushing out a long, slow breath. My mind lost on the thought of a woman.
CHAPTER 10
VIVIAN
IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS and I still can’t believe he kissed me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for even a second.
Okay well maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but still.
Feeling the warmth of his lips on mine? Amazing.
And the way he was so forceful? I’d never been so on fire in my whole life.
Padding my way to the kitchen with cell phone in hand, I call up Charles and put the phone on speaker; I set the phone down on one of the kitchen counters, turn on my heel, and steal a couple of Ray’s cucumbers from the bottom fridge-drawer. While the phone rings, I search around the kitchen for the cutting board – when I find it, I produce a chef’s knife from one of the drawers and start chopping the cucumber into slices.
The phone goes to voice mail and I hear Charles’ familiar voice. I continue to cut away, the blade rapping against the wood for every stroke, “Hey Charles. It’s Vivian,” I begin awkwardly, still trying to formulate my thoughts. “I’m just calling because, well,” I cut another slice of cucumber, and the blade raps once more, “I haven’t heard from you in some time now. Sorry if I messed up or something, or if I offended you. Please call me?”
Standing there for a moment, I let time wrap me in it’s embrace. Part of me hates myself for quitting the work that I was doing with Connifer, and not just for the money or because his baby was so cute; there’s something unfinished that’s pumping through my veins, making my blood betray me. That one kiss was so powerful it made the world around me melt away.
Made me feel stronger. Smarter. Kinder. More humble.
Pulling myself from the reverie I turn my head to look down at the slices of cucumber, and I start popping them into my mouth one by one. Lackadaisically I eat them, and I know that they need salt and maybe some vinegar, but I’m too damn distracted to want to go and flavor them.
I hear a pounding at the brownstone’s front door and heat immediately jumps through me. I whip around to face where the noise is coming from, “Hang on!” I call out wondering who the shit was beating down a door that I didn’t even own. Gliding through the tiny connected dining room, which is more or less just a small space where a wife and husband might eat their breakfast than having people over for dinner, I make my way to the front door and peer through it’s golden eye hole.
