Chapter 25 Wren
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WREN
“Remember everything we said?” Elias asks as I get ready to get out of the SUV.
I nod. “Yes. Get in and out quickly. Show confidence. Don’t let him walk all over me. And when in doubt, leave. Now,” I say, eyeing each of the frowning men. “You gonna let me do this, or what?”
“Be careful, baby,” Dex says, leaning over the seat to give me a quick kiss.
“Come back quickly or I’m coming in after you,” Pete says before giving me a kiss that’s a little too heated to send me away with.
Sly reaches back from the driver’s seat to squeeze my hand. “Be safe.” He turns to Jagger. “Take care of our girl.” Jagger nods before opening the door and stepping down. He reaches up to help me hop down before slamming the door shut in their faces before they can say anything else.
I try not to laugh, but I understand where he’s coming from. They were making way too big a deal about this. I wasn’t completely incompetent. I could talk to strangers, and I had Jagger with me.
We parked a few stores down from the auto shop, and when it comes into view, I have to take a steadying breath before we step into the open garage.
Inside smells like hot oil and cigarette smoke as thick, heavy air clings to my throat. Somewhere in the back, a radio hums off-key, half-swallowed by the sound of metal grinding against metal.
I glance at Jagger as we step inside. He’s silent, but alert, every movement controlled. His eyes lock with mine for a brief moment, telling me everything I need to know: he won’t let anything happen to me.
With an attempt at a confidence I don't feel, I roll my shoulders back and step forward.
A man looks up from under the hood of a stripped-down car, a long wrench in his hand. He’s older than I expected, wiry, with dark hair streaked with gray and slicked back from his face. Tattoos twist up both arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt.
He eyes Jagger first, then me, smirking a little. “You’re not from around here.”
I give him a small, polite smile, almost falling into a curtsy out of old habit. “We’re looking for Marco Leone.”
“Who’s asking?”
“We were told you build signal scramblers,” I say, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about. “The kind that can block all short-range cameras and radio feeds.”
The wrench drops onto the workbench with a heavy clank. “And who told you that?”
I shrug a shoulder, deciding to play my cards close to my chest. If he thinks I’ll offer up a name so easily, he might not be willing to sell to me. “Doesn’t matter. What I care about is if you have one for sale.”
He studies me like he’s deciding whether he’s going to deal with me or not so I cross my arms and try to look stern as I wait for his reply. “You know how these things work?”
I nod, and his gaze flicks toward Jagger, narrowing. “He can wait outside.”
Jagger’s jaw tightens, and I reply, “Not happening.”
Marco shrugs, his tone low and lazy. “I don’t deal with men. He leaves, or you both leave… empty-handed.”
“Look, Marco, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m tiny, you’re huge, and you know I have enough cash on me to pay for the scrambler.
He doesn’t leave my side, and I’m not leaving until I get that scrambler.
You don’t have to deal with him. You’re dealing with me, a woman. Now, do you have the scrambler or not?”
He wipes his hands on a rag, moving closer, his eyes narrowed as he assesses me. “You’ve got some fire in you. Scommetto che sei un petardo a letto.”
The Italian phrase translates to ‘I bet you’re a firecracker in bed.’
Without missing a beat, I narrow my eyes as I fire back in Italian, “Just because I'm a woman doesn't give you an excuse to speak to me like that.”
His eyebrows lift, surprise flickering through his face. “You speak Italian?”
“Sì. Now, how about that signal scrambler?” I ask in Italian, and suddenly he laughs, sounding genuine, then pulls a metal case from under the counter and sets it down between us.
“Dual-band, handheld, thirty-second spin-up. That’s the best you’ll find.”
I reach for it, but he catches my wrist, his fingers rough and greasy against my skin. “Careful, bella. Things like that are dangerous in the wrong hands.”
I don’t think, I just move. My knife’s out before he can blink, the tip pressing into the soft hollow of his throat right beside a second blade. I try not to smile, realizing Jagger moved at the same time as me, and now we’re both holding knives to his neck.
“Non toccarmi.” Don’t touch me, I whisper.
His breath stills as his eyes grow wide with surprise, but there’s respect there too, mixed with something darker. “Okay,” he says quietly, lifting his hands. “You’ve made your point.”
“Good.” I lower the blade, and Jagger follows a second later. I pull out the cash and hold it out. “The scrambler.”
He nods, snatching the cash and passing me the case. “You didn’t get it from me.”
“Never even met you,” I reply as I turn toward the door. Jagger watches my back for a moment before moving in step with me, eyes flicking over my face, my hands, checking for any sign I’m shaken.
I tilt my head toward him and wink, letting him know I’m okay. We step outside, and as soon as we’re out of eye sight of his shop, Jagger grabs my hand tightly in his.
I offer him a smile as my shoulders drop. “I forgot what it was like to always be holding my posture so straight like that,” I say as we head toward the SUV.
“You did great,” he signs, making my heart and head expand a little from the praise.
A woman dressed in dress pants and a blouse approaches from the opposite direction, and I watch as her eyes roam over Jagger and something like attraction blooms there, a smirk pulling at her mouth.
Then her eyes catch on his neck. I know she’s noticed his scar because her eyes widen a fraction, her smirk changing to a small sneer as she gets close, ready to pass us on Jagger’s other side.
“Don’t look at him,” I snarl, squeezing his hand tight as I narrow my gaze on her. How dare she look at him like that?
She startles, as if she hadn’t even noticed me walking with him. When she takes in my size, at least seven inches shorter than hers, probably half due to her high heels, she looks at me like I’m lacking. “It’s a free world, I’ll look where I want,” she fires back.
She’s right beside us now, and I pull Jagger behind my back, placing myself between them, then flick the knife open, pointing it toward her. She backs up into the wall, her eyes wide as I move closer, the tip close to her throat. “Are you crazy?!” she exclaims.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “And maybe next time you’ll think twice before looking at someone like that.”
“W-What are you talking about?”
I step closer, my blade lightly touching her throat. I look up at her scared face as I tell her, “I know your type. You’re one of those people who judge others on their looks. Keep doing that and see where it gets you.”
Her eyes stay wide as she stares at me in horror. I feel Jagger move against my back, his arms wrapping around my waist. He gives me the smallest little tug. Just enough that she won’t see it, but it’s enough to snap me out of it.
I step backward with him, then my nose twitches when I smell something strong. Glancing down, I see the woman’s pants grow wet before something trickles onto the pavement at her feet.
Holy mother of muffins! I made her pee herself!
I take another couple of steps back and lower the knife. She doesn’t hesitate to run off. I spin to face Jagger, my face scrunched in concern. “I didn’t mean to do that.” He reaches up and cups my face, his way of reassuring me. “That was mean, wasn’t it? I took it too far.”
He lifts his hands and signs, “If it were the other way around, I would have done the same. And I love that you are protective of me.”
He tugs me toward the SUV, and I bite my lip as my mind races. She really didn’t deserve to be scared like that. Of course, I never would have harmed her, but she didn’t know that. All she knew was that some crazy woman tried to stab her on the street.
We step up to the SUV, just as the back door flies open and multiple sets of eyes scan me from head to toe.
“You’re okay?” Pete asks first.
“I’m fine,” I say, as we both climb in the back with him and Elias.
“What happened with that woman?” Sly asks. I lean back and take a breath as Jagger signs to them how she sneered at his appearance, and I protected him.
“Damn, our girl’s got claws,” Pete says, and I can hear the grin in his voice.
“It’s always so hot when she gets all jealous and protective,” Dex adds, and I try not to smile; their banter making me feel better.
“Wren?” I lift my head as Elias asks, “You got it?” He points to the case in my lap, and I hand it forward to him. He opens it up, and I look down at the small metal case, a simple gray box with a few wires and switches.
“This is perfect,” he says quietly before his eyes meet mine. “You did great, Wren.”
He closes the case as Sly pulls away from the curb. I sit back in my seat, feeling strangely pleased with myself for once.
Jagger buckles me in, then signs, “I’m proud of you, tiny flame. You were amazing in there.”
I offer him a smile in return. Their approval means everything. For me, it feels like proof. That I can do more than just survive. I can contribute.