33. Jackal
THIRTY-THREE
JACKAL
“How fucking long does it take two people to ditch a car, dump a body, and ride home?”
I flicked imaginary dust off my shoulder and sighed, staring off into space as I wallowed on the couch. We had a routine after contract completions. We went out, got drunk, celebrated, and came home batshit fucked up.
And we couldn’t do that without Dingo.
And, I supposed, without Ivy, too.
There was no way she’d let us go without her.
I’d never seen her drunk, and a part of me wondered if she’d act mostly human once there was half a bottle of alcohol pumping through her veins. Or would she take this opportunity to slip us all a spiked drink this time and off us in the alley?
I wouldn’t put it past her.
Coyote stared silently at the clock, his eyes drifting occasionally to the door, then back to that damned clock Dingo insisted on putting on the wall when we first set up shop here. It ticked annoyingly along, marking every passing second in increasing levels of persistent agony. When I realized I’d been listening to the second hand move along for over a half hour, my rage got the best of me.
“Fucking shut up already, would you?” I shouted, throwing a shoe at the wall. I missed the damn thing by a mile but somehow managed to almost hit my buddy, who kindly returned the shoe with twice the moving force I’d sent it his way with.
So, of course, when it pegged me in the side of the arm, I fell off the couch and groaned from the floor, secretly thankful it hadn’t hit me in the side of the head instead.
That would have really hurt.
“What gives? I didn’t even hit you, Coyote!”
“Came close,” he growled, dusting off his pants as he stood. “They’re late.”
The urge to roll my eyes was too hard to resist. “Well, no shit, Sherlock. They’re big kids, though. If Ivy didn’t kill Dingo, they’ll be back soon. And hell, even if she did, she wouldn’t miss the opportunity to come back for us, too.”
Just then, as if to confirm the damn accusation, the door swung open, and in burst Dingo wearing a shit-eating grin, with a less-pleased Ivy hot on his heels.
His hair was disheveled, his shirt mysteriously missing buttons, and there was a pointed white stain on the front of his pants. All of which was blatantly obvious to anyone watching him as he stood in the living room and stretched proudly. Ivy, however, was conveniently avoiding him, as well as any eye contact with the rest of us.
Strange.
“What took you guys so long?” I asked suddenly, tossing my arms behind my head as I reclined in my seat, feigning disinterest.
Ivy mumbled something about traffic and disappeared into my room, no doubt heading for the bathroom where she’d taken over despite my protests.
Dingo, however, just smiled and shook his head, shooting Coyote a wink and a sly grin. “I need to change my clothes before we go. Got a little blood on these.”
When he disappeared into his room, I glanced at Coyote and frowned. “Was it just me, or did you spot that white mess on his pants?”
He quirked a brow in return as if to say of course I didn’t stare at our buddy’s dick; what is wrong with you?
Not that I could blame him. It was pretty odd of me. Still, I couldn’t discount what I’d seen. If I didn’t know better?—
No. No way in hell.
I was overthinking it.
The only logical explanation for that convenient white-ish stain on his crotch was that he’d had messy, quick sex, and hadn’t bothered to clean himself up .
Or maybe I was reading too much into things. Also totally possible, I supposed.
But unlikely.
Maybe I’d get a chance to ask him when we got wasted tonight.
“Hey, you two hurry up so we can go celebrate,” I shouted to the room at large, already eager to drown myself in booze and forget my endless questions. “There’s tequila at the bar, and it’s calling my name.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised that you’re a tequila man,” Ivy said from my bedroom door, her arms braced on either side of the frame.
Fucking hell, was she trying to kill us all with these clothes she wore?
Usually, her daily clothing choices consisted of leisurewear and the occasional questionable pair of shorts. In fact, I wasn’t even aware she owned a dress. But standing in the doorway of my bedroom, she’d put on an utterly out-of-character outfit for her—at least out of character to the extent that we’d known her. Maybe she’d been hiding this girl all along, and we weren’t allowed to see her until now.
The dress she’d put on was a flowing number, hitting mid-thigh with a soft, wispy skirt that teased her bare legs when she moved. The neckline was daring, her bra peeking out at the top as it worked overtime as a shelf for her impressive cleavage. And, of course, to top off the look, she’d left her hair hanging around her shoulders and slipped into a pair of heels that made her already impressive height even more imposing. Hell, if she stood next to Coyote, easily the tallest of us, she might just be eye to eye with him in those numbers.
I wondered how she planned to walk in them.
Did girls go through some kind of classes on how to walk in heels and sit in skirts that taught them the finer aspects of managing today’s insane beauty standards, or were they all just winging it?
Who fucking knows.
“You look . . . ” I started, my voice trailing off when the words to describe her didn’t just appear in my brain. I could use a host of words to describe this side of her we had just now been allowed to view, but none of them seemed to do her justice.
Stunning. Flashy. Daring. Dangerous. Sly. Conniving. Cunty. Sexy as hell.
Did I mention dangerous?
I shook images of her in various positions from my mind, grumbled my displeasure at my lacking vocabulary, and tried for nonchalance. I probably failed miserably, but who cared?
“You gonna finish that comment or not?” she taunted me, a hand coming down to rest on her hip as she cocked it out and grinned. “Because the longer you stand there and stare at me like I’m growing horns, the longer we have to be sober around each other tonight.”
Sober wasn’t always a fun ride, but drunk—drunk was . . .
Drunk with Ivy was unknown. A mystery. And I wasn’t sure I was willing to bet my life on the chance that it’d go smoothly.
“We’re wasting time standing around here, you three,” Dingo said as he emerged from his room, dressed in a less messy outfit, his hair still damp and dangling around his face, droplets staining his shirt collar. His eyes trailed over Ivy for a long second, and he frowned. “You plan to ride in that?”
“Why not?” She glanced down at her skirt in confusion. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“No,” Coyote and I nearly snarled in unison before Dingo could ruin it for us and tell her a million different reasons she should wear something else.
It’ll be cold.
Your skirt will fly up in the wind .
You look like catnip for every alleycat of a man in the bars we frequent.
All valid reasons. I didn’t care. And I suspected, neither did she.
I opened my mouth to tell her she was riding with me, all earlier resistance to the idea suddenly missing from my brain, when Coyote grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out the door and into the hall, making a beeline for the stairs.
My eyes met Dingo’s, and we both shrugged his strange behavior off before making our way out as well, being extra careful to lock the door behind us this time.
“I don’t think you understand, buddy. I don’t stand in line. I never stand in lines.” I pointed to the shiny Guild pin on my lapel and grinned cockily. “You know what this is, don’t you? It’s an all-access pass to the front of the line, anywhere we want.”
The bouncer stared me down like he wanted nothing more than for me to start something so he’d have an excuse to put his hands on me. Usually, I wouldn’t mind a fight, but this was the bar Ivy demanded we go to. And since we’d sworn ourselves to her, what she wanted, she got.
And of course something would go wrong the second we showed up.
I knew we should have just taken her to our usual haunts.
“I don’t care what fancy pins you wear, buddy. You’re gonna stand in line just like everyone else around here.” He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest in a blatant challenge. “You got a problem with that?”
“No,” I grumbled, turning away to slink back in defeat to where the others stood in line. Dingo and Coyote flanked Ivy, but the stares she got were still enough to set my teeth on edge.
I didn’t like the way men leered at her like she was a piece of meat. Even men standing with an arm around another girl were boldly staring in apparent interest, some even salivating over her luscious ass.
Her smile turned to a frown as she registered my angry, sullen look. “Didn’t go your way at the door?”
“Apparently, this is the only bar in town that doesn’t understand what the Guild pin is for.” My feet carried me right next to her, where I could block the views of a third of the lecherous pervs undressing her with their eyes. “Fucking stupid. When Lilly finds out?—”
Before I could get another word out, Ivy ducked under the ropes and practically pranced to the front of the line, waving her hands at us to follow behind. I hesitated; if the pin did nothing for me, what the fuck would it do for her? But hell, standing here wasn’t going any better for us. Why not indulge her?
She giggled as she put a hand on the bouncer’s massive bicep and leaned in, waiting for him to bend an ear in her direction. Not that she needed him to—those heels put her on his level in more ways than one.
Sure enough, I watched as he side-eyed her, realized he could see almost all the way down the front of her dress, and turned his attention to her like he’d just had a change of heart. As we got closer, I picked up some of the conversation as she reached down to adjust her heels and?—
—pulled a fucking blade out of thin air.
Instead of bringing it to his throat in front of the whole line, she reached around his back and put the tip against the skin just below his ear, a wicked gleam in her eyes that had me hard as a rock.
“You told my friend here that his pin means nothing to you. Well, you must be new, so I figured I’d be nice and give you a little lesson on it.” The blade’s tip pressed against the lobe of his ear from behind, and I saw the man wince as she pushed it into the fleshy skin there, careful not to reveal the presence of the blade to anyone but them. “You see, that pin means we’re part of an organization called the Guild. And in Port Wylde, anyone who’s anyone knows that the only people who wear that pin are ruthless, psycho, unhinged killers for hire.” The blade slipped lower, and she hid it against her palm as she moved that hand to his hip, then lower, to cup his balls, which I imagined had just shriveled up and crawled back into his body. “Now, unless you wanna find out what life as a eunuch is like, I’d suggest you let me and my three dogs here—” she gestured to us with a head tilt— “in the fucking bar. I’d hate to have to tell Frank you’re being a cockblock just for shits and giggles.”
I didn’t know who Frank was, but he must’ve been someone important, because the bouncer nodded to her and stepped back, holding his hands in front of his junk as she grinned and reached back down to hide that damn thing wherever she’d pulled it out of.
And then, as if she fucking owned the place, this bitch just straightened, tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, and reached for Coyote’s hand, tugging him along as she led the way into the bar, much to the vocal disapproval of everyone in the line.
She looked like she didn’t give a fuck.
I loved that about her.
The door closed behind us and cut off the protestations from the line about skipping and favoritism. Suddenly, we were bathed in music so heart-poundingly loud, it was impossible to think straight, let alone communicate. Coyote clung to her hand like a lifeline, and Dingo and I stayed on his heels, desperate to keep from being separated in a place like this.
I didn’t mind music, dancing, drinking, all three in one place. But the volume of this bar was insane, and from the looks of the alcohol on the wall behind the bar, it’d be a lot more expensive than I cared for to get drunk here.
We were well off, but we weren’t rich, for fuck’s sake.
“Bartender!” she shouted as her hands slammed down on the counter, grinning from ear to ear like she’d lost her mind. “Down here when you’ve got a minute!”
Her skirt rode up her thighs as she slid onto a stool beside us and waited patiently, eyes scanning the dance floor with mild interest. I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from saying something infinitely stupid. Something like you make me want to take you behind the bar and fuck you while all these saps watch, or please fucking step on me, you beautiful whore, or even I’ll take whatever you want to give me, as long as there’s pain involved.
Things I had no business saying to her.
When the bartender, a young, slender man who dressed better than half the women in this room, finally made his way to us, Ivy nearly jumped the bar to hug him with a girlish squeal.
He recoiled in shock and then grunted as he detangled himself from her embrace.
She liked someone? Someone human?
Impossible.
“Tanner, it’s been what, a million years?” Her eyes slid down his body appreciatively, and I heard Coyote growl as Tanner rolled his eyes. “Still sexy as ever, I see.”
Tanner’s hand shoved her back across the bar, but the smile on the corner of his lips gave him away. “You too, bitch.” His eyes found the three of us standing practically on top of her, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed his apparent fear and discomfort. “Who’d you bring with you? Bodyguards?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Pets, more like it. They left their leashes at home.” Her tits practically bounced out of her top as she leaned forward again and smiled conspiratorially, whisper-shouting behind her hand as if we couldn’t hear her. “They bite, so don’t get too close.”
“Fuck outta here with that shit, Ivy. No way these fine men bite.” His eyes traveled over Coyote specifically, then met mine briefly before moving to Dingo, whose muscles were on display in a juicy manner that clearly appealed to him. “Okay, so maybe they do bite, but damn, they almost look pretty enough to make a man want to be bitten.”
“Sorry, pal, but we don’t swing your way.” Dingo threw an arm over Ivy’s shoulder and nuzzled her ear, brave as fuck in a room full of people. “We like our current owner just fine, thanks.”
“Such a good boy,” Ivy teased him, ruffling his hair like he was a dog who’d just performed an unspoken new trick. “Now, why don’t you tell my friend here what you’d like, and I’ll find us a spot to post up.”
She disappeared with a wink, and before any of us could react, Tanner was already leaning over the bar to grab some glasses, looking expectantly at us with a sly smile and a twinkle in his eye.
“So, tall, dark, and broody,” he started, glancing at Coyote first. “What’ll it be?”
I shoved in closer and grabbed Tanner by his fancy tie, yanking him nose to nose with me. “Let’s clear a few things up, buddy.” His eyes widened as I let my lips part to reveal the rows of perfectly sharpened teeth in my mouth. “We’re not the kind of guys you play around with. The only person who can talk to us like that is her, got it?”
He nodded quickly, his hair bouncing around his face with the jerky movements. “Yeah, sure, anything you say.”
“She is off-limits, too. So if your door swings both directions, it sure as hell doesn’t anymore, does it?”
“Oh, it never has, don’t worry,” he chuckled, glancing around for rescue.
“And lastly?—”
“Jackal, let him go.”
I froze as her voice clawed down my back like razor blades dipped in dry ice. My hand released Tanner’s tie, and he fell backward, catching himself on the liquor rail behind him. Ivy shoved me to the side, her eyes flashing with a barely-banked fire I didn’t like. When she turned to the bartender, she morphed into an apologetic, sweet woman I’d never fucking met before.
“Sorry about that one. He’s not really house-trained. Should honestly be wearing a muzzle out in public, but they don’t make them big enough to fit his mouth.”
Tanner looked like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “Haha, good one,” he tried, though his voice fell flat. It was obvious we scared him, but it was a toss-up if he was more afraid of us, or her.
Did he maybe know what she was? What things she did in her spare time? The kind of men she associated with?
And then I followed his eyes to where she’d tucked her hair behind her ear, the Guild pin hung from an ear lobe, fashioned as a dangling earring.
Fucking smart woman.
Which also meant that he knew exactly what we were.
“Okay, boys, what are you drinking? I’m ready to get off the main floor and into a less crowded spot.” Her eyes traveled over us one by one, then she shrugged, rolling her eyes with a huff. “Okay, just give me a bottle of your top-shelf imported tequila and a bucket of beers on ice. Domestic, I think, but not cheap.” Her eyes narrowed as she waited for one of us to protest. “I think we’re table ten in the VIP room.”
“I’ll have one of the servers bring it right up,” Tanner said, his hands already flying over the various bottles on a top shelf. “Silver or gold?”
“Clear, please,” she returned, taking Dingo and Coyote’s hands. “Someone better hold on to Jackal so he doesn’t get lost in here.”
Me? Get lost?
She fucken wished.
In a place like this, I planned to stick to her like fucking glue.