Dirty Ex-Mas

by Denise Wells

  “Help me, help you?” David sneers. “Is that it? Are you quoting movie lines now?”

  “If it means you understand how this going down, sure.”

  David says nothing. I fake a punch to his nose, happy when he flinches.

  “Okay, okay,” he says. “He’s just a guy I owe some money to. I don’t even know his real name.”

  “So, what? You know his fake name?”

  “He’s a money guy. They call him Black Diamond.”

  I nod even though I’ve not heard of the guy. “How much do you owe him?”

  “Just over two,” David mumbles.

  “Two? Two what? Hundred? Thousand?”

  “Million.”

  I whistle my surprise. “Wow, Dave, I gotta tell you, that’s a lot of money to owe a bookie.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “Horses? Cards? Cock fights? What’s your jam, man?”

  “I’m in finance, okay. I was flipping money for some clients. The first time paid big. So I took some proceeds to invest for myself, no one was the wiser. A sure thing. Only it wasn’t. I had to make the clients whole first and needed the funds immediately. Someone recommended Black Diamond, and it all kind of went from there.”

  He seems so blasé about it. I want to introduce his face to my fist again. Repeatedly.

  “How’d the girls get involved?”

  “When I couldn’t pay, he said that’s what I had to do until I could produce the money. Which I still haven’t done. I’ve got a wedding coming up, man. I’ve got expenses. I can’t be paying interest to this guy. The girls take care of that, plus some principle.”

  “You realize these are human lives that you are destroying in a truly demented kind of way?”

  He doesn’t shrug again. Lucky for him. But he remains impassive. Like what I’m saying doesn’t even register. He has zero feelings about it.

  “Where do we find this Black Diamond guy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who’s the guy at the house where you drop the girls?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “I want the address.”

  “It’s different all the time, man.”

  “Fine. What was the last address?”

  He gives it to me. I make a note on my phone.

  He really makes me want to punch him. Break his nose all over again, watch the blood fly.

  From the looks she’s giving me in the rearview mirror, Daria isn’t far behind me in that sentiment. I give in to the urge and clock him with my right. He looks surprised for a second, then closes his eyes and melts into the seat, knocked out for the foreseeable future.

  I turn off the recording app on my phone and double check to make sure everything recorded. Not that I got the confession legally, but I’ll figure that part out later.

  “Where to?” Daria asks, her accent strong. It always is when she’s upset, and like most other things about her, it’s sexy as fuck. I’d asked her not to say anything in front of Tremblay, her voice is distinct enough he may have recognized it.

  “Hit the address he gave us. I want to make sure there really aren’t any girls there.”

  “And if there are?”

  “Then it’s gonna get pretty crowded in this backseat, babe.”

  14

  Quinn

  Reed drags me upstairs and into one of the guest rooms.

  “What are you doing? Let go of me!”

  He doesn’t let go. Instead, he wraps both arms around me from behind. Pinning me against his body. His long, hard body that I enjoy being up against. I sink into him slightly.

  “What are you doing here, Quinn? And with a gun?” He squeezes my midriff tightly, taking my breath away.

  “None of your business.” I try to turn in his arms to get myself free, but he’s holding me too tight. At first this squeezing was cute, but I now realize he means business.

  “Stop moving, Quinn.”

  “No!” I wriggle more, then stomp on his foot with my heel.

  “Fuck!”

  I feel a little bad for hurting him. But Daria said that I was not to tell anyone I spoke to my true reason for being here under any circumstances. And that it was imperative I make my storyline convincing. Regardless, he didn’t let me go.

  “Look,” Reed says. “I won’t ask again. This is your last chance. What are you doing here with a gun?”

  “None. Of. Your. Business.”

  “The hell it’s not my business. You had a gun pointed at my best friend. At his fucking engagement party. Are you crazy?” He grabs me by the upper arm and throws me toward the bed. I land in an ungraceful heap, my dress bouncing up around my thighs.

  His gaze heats as it lowers to my bared legs—the top of the slit in my dress barely covering my lady bits. Making me want to spread them slightly. Until I remember he just asked if I was crazy.

  “No, I’m not crazy. Don’t be a jerk.” I try to sit up, adjusting my dress as I go.

  “Can you just sit there, please? For a minute, while I wrap my head around this?”

  I nod once so that my actions aren’t a total lie. I mean, I will sit here for a minute, but not too much longer.

  “What’s really going on Quinn?” He walks toward me; his voice is low and gravelly. I’m digging this deep, sexy tenor he’s got going on, it makes my lady parts all atwitter—but it doesn’t mean I will answer his questions honestly.

  “It upset me.” I try to act nonchalant, casually standing as I answer. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid like tell him the truth.

  “What did?” He pushes lightly at my chest and I bounce back onto the bed. Damn high heels make me unsteady on my feet.

  “His engagement.”

  He laughs. “So, you thought you’d shoot him?”

  “Why not?” I raise my chin as I open my eyes to look at him.

  “Do you expect me to believe that?” His eyes squint and he cocks his head.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Okay, so after months and months of no contact at all, you suddenly decide that you’re upset enough about his engagement to shoot him at his own party?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “You guys went on, what? Three dates?”

  I shrug. I don’t really want to talk any longer.

  “So, not like the relationship of the year or anything. Why not just, I don’t know, slap him in the face? Crank call him in the middle of the night? Post shit about him on social media? Like what normal jilted girls do?” He snaps his fingers to get my attention.

  “Sounds like the girls you’ve jilted are boring, Reed.”

  He grins sardonically. “I guess so if the alternative is getting shot.”

  Okay, enough of this. I need to get the hell out of here. I’m distracted, I’m turned on, I don’t know what’s happening downstairs. I try to stand again and scoot around him, but he grabs my upper arm stopping me. I try to yank it from his grasp and spin away but end up with my back flattened to his front.

  Again.

  He wraps his arms around me, grasping his wrists to lock me in his embrace. I lean back against him, liking how our bodies align when I’m wearing heels, then wriggle my bottom against what I’m hoping is his dick.

  “Don’t play with me, Quinn. I’m not in the mood.”

  Which gives me an idea.

  I twist my head to face him. “What are you in the mood for?” I soften my voice as I ask, hoping I sound alluring. I’d brush his hair out of his eyes with my fingertips, but he has my arms pinned to my sides.

  He cocks his head and squints his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

  I look up at him from under my lashes, giving my best come hither look. “I enjoy being in your arms.”

  He blinks once. Twice. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Do you ever think about kissing me, Reed?”

  “This is not the time, Quinn.”

  “I think about kissing you.” I arch
my head back to run my nose along his neck, breathing in his scent as I go. “I think about it a lot.”

  God, he smells good.

  He clears his throat but says nothing. His hold on me loosens and I turn in his embrace, then run my tongue along the same path, up his neck to just behind his ear, my heart races and my breath gets heavy. I think becoming a hired assassin has given me super seductive powers, because no way would I have the balls to do this ordinarily.

  I take the lobe of his ear between my teeth and bite gently. He groans.

  Which I take as a good sign. One that means I should continue, so I kiss my way along his jawline and up to the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch ever so slightly as I run my tongue along their seam.

  “Quinn,” he breathes. “You need to stop this.” His hold on me loosens further as he moves his hands closer to my ass, enough for me to get one arm free which I wrap around his neck.

  “Why?” I nibble on his bottom lip and he groans again. Or maybe that was me. “Kiss me, Reed.” His face inches closer to mine until our lips are mere centimeters apart. I close my eyes and strain my face forward, just as our mouths are about to meet, he shakes his head and snaps out of whatever trance I’d put him in, waking me up with him.

  “Don’t play games with me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Are you kidding? This is the oldest trick in the book. You try to seduce me, then sneak away when you have me all distracted and wound up.”

  “Are you wound up?” It would be nice to know if my techniques were effective.

  “Can you just . . .” He steps away from me and turns, running his palm over his face. “Are you still hung up on him, is that it?” His eyes search out mine. If I’m not mistaken, I see hurt reflecting from his. I close my eyes to steel myself against him. If I were Superman, Reed Roberts would be my kryptonite. I can’t lie to him about having feelings for David. If he thinks I have feelings for David, he’ll never want to be with me. And being here with him like this, having just felt his body against mine, confirms that I most definitely want to be with him.

  “I’m just upset.” I breathe heavily.

  “Upset about his engagement?”

  I nod.

  “It’s been over a year, Quinn.”

  I turn my head down and to the side. If he sees the look in my eyes, he’ll know I’m lying.

  “Just tell me, are you in love with him?” His voice is soft. Almost pained. I glance up quickly.

  “No,” I tell him honestly, looking him in the eye.

  “Then what’s going on?” He uses his free hand to push some of my loosened hair behind my ear. “What snapped in that beautiful head of yours to make you want to shoot him?”

  He thinks my head is beautiful?

  My heart soars. He must like me. “I didn’t want to shoot him,” I say, softly. “I just wanted to scare him a bit.”

  “Why?”

  “So he would behave with his new wife.” Okay, that’s not what I thought I would say, but I think it can still work as a rationale for my actions. If he believes me.

  Reed looks at me, questioningly. “What do you mean by behave? Like be faithful? Are you talking about the apps?”

  I look at him. “The apps? Noooo.” I draw the word out and try to make the answer on my face as plain as day. I don’t want to outright lie and say that David is a cheater, I wouldn’t know. For one, we weren’t together long enough, or even exclusive; and, two, I don’t know if David has ever cheated on a girl or if he uses apps to do it. But if Reed were to jump to his own conclusions about what I’m implying, I have no control over that.

  He looks at me and nods as if understanding. “You know I have to bring you in, right?”

  “For what? Nothing even happened.” Shit! Daria never said what to do if I get arrested. “Uh, can I make my phone call first?”

  “I’m not arresting you, Quinn. At least not yet. I just need some questions answered. Why, who do you want to call?”

  “A friend,” I hedge. If I tell him I want to call Daria, he may wonder why. Though, she is my best friend and would be the most logical choice to bail me out of jail. Not that they have arrested me, but he added not yet. Maybe I can make this work. “I want to call Daria. She’s my person to bail me out of jail.”

  “You aren’t in jail.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. This is looking like a Reed Roberts jail if I’ve ever seen one.”

  He raises a brow. “You’re free to go.”

  I try to step around him, only to have him put his arm out to stop me. “Quinn, I can’t just let it go that you were planning to fire a loaded weapon in a crowded party.”

  “What if I said I would never do it again?” I blink innocently at him.

  “I don’t believe you.” He sighs.

  I’m torn between wanting to convince him I won’t do it again and feeling pride over him thinking I’m bad ass enough to bring a gun to a party again.

  “Come on.” He grabs my upper arm in a loose hold. “If you won‘t talk to me here, then I have to bring you in for questioning.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to do this, Quinn. But you leave me no choice.”

  I chew on my bottom lip slightly, forgetting for a moment about my no-smudge lipstick, trying to decide if I should come clean, call Daria, or make a run for it. But as soon as I open my mouth to tell him everything, my phone rings. I look down at the caller ID.

  Daria.

  Thank god.

  I hold the phone up to show Reed, and shrug as though it’s not my fault I can’t answer his questions, then I press the answer button.

  15

  Daria

  “How the fuck did you forget to extract Quinn?” Mack yells from the back seat.

  “Me?” I turn to glare at him. “Me? You were the one inside the party, you were the one who was supposed to make sure she was okay. Which includes getting her out.”

  “No way, babe. She’s your girl, your responsibility.”

  “Uh, sorry babe, but this was your plan and your get. It’s all on you.”

  “Agree to disagree.”

  “I hate that saying.” He knows that. I grit my teeth and try to figure out a way to fix this. Quinn will have no fucking idea what to do if she’s caught.

  “You’ve thrown her to the dogs.”

  “Huh?”

  “You. With this. She won’t know what to do. You’ve thrown her to the dogs.”

  “Wolves.”

  I slow to stop at a red light. “What wolves?” I look around, but see nothing.

  “You throw someone to the wolves, not the dogs.”

  I throw my hands up. I hate it when he does this. “You know what I mean.” I confuse words sometimes, especially when I’m upset. And in English, all the words are so confusing, plus it’s my third language. I speak Russian and Polish before English.

  He runs his palm over his face. “What do you want to do?”

  “We can’t go back and get her. Goddamn it, Mack!”

  “Don’t yell at me, Daria. I’m under a bit of pressure here.”

  “I’m under a bit of pressure here,” I mimic, then toss him my cell. “Call her, find out where she is and if she’s okay.”

  He grumbles, but he does it.

  “Put it on speaker.”

  “Daria?” Quinn answers.

  “No, Mack.”

  “Mack?”

  “Daria’s here, she’s just driving,” Mack says.

  “Why is Mack answering Daria’s phone?” I hear in the background.

  “Who’s that?” Mack asks Quinn.

  “Uh, that’s Reed,” she responds.

  “Why is Reed with you?” Mack asks.

  “Reed is with Quinn?” I confirm.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  For as much as I want to believe in Reed, and his not turning us in, if he finds out like this, let’s just say it will not bode well for any of us. I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand and
speed up too fast at the green light, taking the next turn a bit too sharply. Mack grabs the headrest of the passenger seat to keep from sliding across the bench seat.

  “Do you mind?” he says to me.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” I tell him.

  “Is that Daria?” Quinn asks.

  “What the hell is going on, Quinn?” Reed’s voice comes through loud and clear.

  “Quinn, put Reed on the phone,” Mack demands.

  “No!” I glare at Mack through the rearview mirror, he avoids my gaze, but moves to lean between the two front seats so I can hear the phone better.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Quinn replies.

  “Good girl!” I call out.

  “Daria? I could use some . . . advice.”

  “I know, Quinn. I’m so sorry!” I yell in the phone's direction. “I’m thinking. Give me a second.”

  “Quinn, where are you?” Mack asks.

  “I’m at the house where the party is, upstairs.”

  “Which is where I brought her after I found her with a gun ready to shoot David Tremblay.” Reed’s voice is filled with accusation.

  “Quinn, tell Reed to hang tight. I will call you back in two minutes.” Mack disconnects the call.

  “Why did you do that? If Reed has her, is he going to arrest her?” I can’t help but feel panic. My friend is not cut out for this. “I knew this was a bad plan.”

  “Yeah, well, you went along with it anyway, so . . .” Mack tosses the phone in the center console cup holder where we can both reach it if need be. “Okay,” he continues, “here’s what we’ll do. Cancel heading to the brothel address dipshit gave us.” He thumbs in David’s direction. “We’re going to the safe house instead. I’ll call Reed back and tell him only what he absolutely needs to know.”

  “Which is what?”

  “That I planted Quinn as a distraction so I could get to Tremblay. And she knew nothing else. You are just my getaway driver. And the gun has blanks because I didn’t want anyone hurt. It’s enough of the truth to be plausible and the number of things I’ll admit to will satisfy him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’ll call him back and have him bring Quinn to meet us. I got this, Dar. I know this plan was flawed, but I promise you I won’t let anything happen to Quinn, okay?” He touches my shoulder as he says this. I turn my head to look at him.