Chapter 4
MINKA
My hands shake as I pull my dress up and slip my arms through the gaps, then as I twist in front of the bathroom mirror and work the zipper along my back. My breath comes in choppy, hitching waves, and my cheeks, no matter how hard I try with a makeup brush, remain splotchy and red.
A basketball game plays on the television in the living room, the commentators hissing and jeering, shouting their approval for a three-point shot; Cato expresses similar feelings. And their disapproval when some other player steals the ball; Cato concurs.
My phone vibrates on the vanity, my eyes dropping to the lit screen and to Soph’s ‘we’re ready to roll’ text that puts butterflies in my belly.
Bringing my focus back to the mirror, I study the mascara framing my eyes and the cat-like wisp of midnight black liner streaking away from the corners. My hair remains tied back, and my dress… it’s cute, I suppose. Snug around the bust and torso, but loose around my thighs.
Comfort matters when heading out to kill a man.
Brushing my hands over my belly and drawing a long, chest-stretching breath, I let it out again and nod. It’s time to work.
Snatching up my phone and whipping the bathroom door open, I step into the hall in ankle boots, turning left and striding through my apartment until I reach the clutch I already tossed onto the counter.
Cato bounds up on the couch and spins on his knees, his elbows on the top of the cushions and his eyes narrowing to suspicious slits.
Ignoring him, I slide my phone into the clutch and carefully, discreetly, check for supplies.
As in, a blade.
“Where are you going?”
I grab my work bag and take out the box of pills Soph sent over. Opening the package and staring at the long line of trial meds they expect me to be the guinea pig for, I chew on my bottom lip and consider… stare… wonder…
“Doctor Cutie?” Cato climbs off the couch and comes around to stare down at me, the heat of his glare enough to warm the side of my face. “You’re dressed for a date.”
I select a single pill and tuck it into my clutch, zipping it into the tiny pocket sewn inside. Then, closing the box again, I toss it back into my bag and head toward the door.
“I’m going out for a couple of hours.” I wrap my palm around the doorknob and pull. “I’ll be back in a little—”
Cato slams it closed again. Grabbing my shoulder, he pushes me around and shoves my back against the wall.
“Unless you’re heading out on a date with my brother, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave this apartment tonight.
” His eyes fire with potent rage. His lips firming into unhappy, flat lines.
“He might be screwing everything up right now, but I’m not gonna stand here and allow you to compound the problems.”
“Move.” I jab my fist against his rock-hard belly, digging my knuckles in, and stun him enough to get the door open far enough to create a gap I can slip through. Before Harrison can push away from his post, I shake my head. “No. You’re staying here tonight.”
“Ma’am.” He follows me onto the stairs anyway. “If you’d like to go somewhere, I’m happy to drive you.”
“I am going somewhere.” I peek over my shoulder and fake a grin, my feet moving quickly down the stairs, onto the third-floor landing, and then down some more. “But I don’t need you to drive me.”
“But I insis—”
“I insist you respect my wishes.” I practically jog down the next flight, and the flight after that, so when I reach the bottom floor and the space my dear landlord would normally wait to greet me, I whip open the heavy glass door and study the shiny black town car pulling up at the curb.
Right on time. Glancing back, I raise a single hand and bring Harrison to a skidding stop.
And behind him, a furious Cato.
“There has never been a point in all the time I’ve known the Malones that I’ve openly accepted this.” I gesture toward them both. “The security. The protection. The drivers.” I meet Cato’s eyes. “The brother who thinks he can control where I go and with whom I speak.”
“Come back upstairs,” he snarls. “You’re operating on flawed emotion right now, Mayet. You’re pissed, and my brother is a fucking idiot. But going out tonight helps no one.”
“Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. It helps me.
” I lower my gaze and glower as Harrison pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“You’ll snitch, and I’ll do as I please anyway.
Fortunately, I’ve never been afraid of the people you call Boss.
” I drag the glass door fully open and step into the putrid evening heat. “I’ll be back later.”
“Minka!” Cato bounds down the stairs in baggy basketball shorts, a tank that shows off most of his ribs and the sides of his pecs, and absolutely no shoes, so when he bursts onto the sidewalk and realizes the heat, he hops in place. “Mayet!”
I stalk toward the black car and slide into the back seat, pulling the door closed on my own as the driver—no clue who he is!—comes to the front and settles in. “Jennings, ma’am?”
“Yes, please.” I glance right just in time for the doors to lock and for Cato to grab the handle. “Quickly.”
“Minka Mayet!” He pounds the side of his fist against the window. “If I liked you less, I’d shoot you in your fuckin’ kneecaps to keep you here.”
“Moving quickly.” The driver pulls away from the curb with a fast drop of his foot on the gas pedal. “He seems overprotective.”
“He means well.” Crossing my legs and fixing my seatbelt, I reach into my clutch and take out my phone. Navigating to the text screen, I search for Archer’s first.
It’s a mistake I should know better than to make, because he hasn’t sent me a rock since Saturday, back when I was strapped to a stylist’s chair and forced through hours of beautifying rituals in preparation for Aubree’s wedding.
Back when we were still together… still strong… still happy.
Exhaling a shuddering breath, I exit our barren chat and move to the next.
Me:
You probably already know, but I’m in the car heading to the restaurant.
Soph:
Yeah. I’m following you via GPS. I have confirmation from Abate’s assistant and his personal calendar that he’ll be at Jennings tonight. They’re expecting you. I don’t, however, have visual proof he’s there yet.
Busboy I spoke to swears Abate usually arrives an hour before a meet, since he enjoys a quiet whiskey before fleecing ditsy idiots out of their parents’ money.
Since I hadn’t caught him on the premises via CCTV yet, I called his office pretending to be you.
His assistant said he’s been in a meeting all afternoon, but not to worry. He’ll be with us on time.
Me:
Kinda ballsy of you to call to confirm his appointment with death. Didn’t feel you were coming on kinda strong?
Soph:
Nah. We’re dumb socialites, remember? I said how I was at the salon and that my nail tech was running five minutes late. I apologized and chattered on about how I hoped he wasn’t sitting there waiting for me already. That’s when she told me about the other stuff.
Side note: you doing okay? We can postpone this until you’re in a better headspace if you need…
I drop my head back and close my eyes, breathing out a noisy sigh that hits the ceiling of the car and bounces back down again to tickle my chin.
Opening my eyes again, I tap out a response.
Me:
I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it, and I have no interest in postponing anything.
Especially if Archer is right and these men, these sick, predatory middle-aged pricks intent on buying little girls, are expected to shop for a new supplier soon.
It’s time to neutralize them.
Me:
Abate will be easy, since he’s accustomed to dinner with dumb women in private rooms inside a dark restaurant. I’m more concerned with those we haven’t found yet.
Soph:
I’m working on it. My men have Sheppard and Roux in their sights. And we caught whispers that Dirkse was returning to Copeland soon. He’s pissed his purchase fell through and his money has gone bye-bye. His anger will lead him right to us.
You’re a few minutes out. Your driver’s name is Burke. He’s not mine, not like Jay and Romeo and Spence are mine, but Burke comes with military training, and he’s for hire if you need backup. If you get stuck or need a hand, rely on him. He’ll get you through.
Another text pops through, the ribbon dropping from the top of my screen. But where I expect to see Sophia’s name, I startle and almost toss my phone at the sight of Archer’s name instead.
Emotion balls in my throat and steals my ability to breathe. To think. To swallow.
Warily tapping on his text, screens jump and leave me staring at a rock.
A singular, heart-aching, soul-shattering rock.
And then… nothing else. No bouncing bubbles to indicate he’s texting. No more rocks. No words. No picture. Just nothing.
And then another text arrives from Soph.
Soph:
I need your head in the game, Chief. I never, ever send muscle into a situation they’re not ready for. I’m not in the business of getting people dead. Not MY people, anyway.
The car slows in a busy, bustling restaurant district where patrons walk arm in arm along the sidewalk.
Men wear suits, despite the heat, and women wear dresses a little like mine.
Music plays somewhere in the street, and as we come to a stop outside Jennings, I’m left staring at the not-at-all discreetly placed camera facing the road.
Here’s hoping Soph shut it down.
I meet Burke’s steady gaze in the mirror and force a small smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been instructed to keep the car running, ma’am. But if you’d prefer I walk in with you, I’ve been cleared for that, too.”
“No. It’s…” I shake my head, Archer’s gift tormenting me like a drum in the back of my skull. I shake my head a second time and exhale. “It’s fine. I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll be, but—”
“I’ll wait patiently, ma’am. No rush.” He turns in his seat and meets my eyes without the mirror in the middle. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my neck and breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Nodding, I close my clutch and hold my phone separately. “Thank you, Mr. Burke. I’ll be back soon.”
I glance right as my door opens and a valet shields me from the blistering late afternoon sun with a broad umbrella.
Better yet, he inadvertently hides me from onlookers and anyone else heading past. “Thank you.” I allow him to escort me all the way to the door, then inside where the icy air conditioning works overtime to combat the hundred degrees outside.
“You are here to meet Mr. Abate?” A server stops in front of me with a crisp white cloth draped over his arm. “Please, miss. Won’t you follow me?”
“Thank you. Is Mr. Abate here?”
“Yes, miss. He arrived just a moment ago and directed me to move your party to the Luxe Room.”
Luxe Room? I unlock my phone and speed-type, even as I follow the server with barely more than a glance.
Me:
Abate’s here. We’re heading to the Luxe Room. My head is in the game, so relax. I’ll text you when I’m done.
Soph:
Reminder; I can hear basically anything you say, and I can see your GPS dot moving, so I know where you’re going, too. You don’t have to send text updates. They serve no purpose except to distract you. Focus.
I still have no visual confirmation Abate is there, so he must’ve come in through some other entrance. Which, by the way, pisses me off. I thought I had up-to-date schematics. Won’t make the same mistake twice.
Eat. Cut. Get out. Doesn’t matter what mess you leave behind, you’re clear. Probably don’t stand in front of him when you slit his throat, though. That shit is messy, and I’m not sure we can get you out without being noticed if you’re literally dripping in blood.
I roll my eyes and lock the screen, slipping my phone into my clutch to free up one hand. Bringing my gaze up, I smile as the server stops outside a closed door labeled Luxe.
“This is it, miss.” He grabs the handle and silently opens the door, revealing a room filled with shadows and flickering light. Candles surround the space about as large as my living room and kitchen combined, but only one table exists.
Seated in the shadows, his face almost completely obscured by darkness, is a man not at all the one I was expecting.
“Chief Mayet.” His lips, sinful and thick, curve to the side and reveal perfect, pearly white teeth. “Nice of you to join me.”
Stunned, I stumble across the threshold and blink, blink, blink. “Archer?” I glance back at the soft snick of the closing door, then around again. Gulping, I ask, “What the hell are you doing here?”