Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Kieran
The phone rang so many times that I thought the call would go unanswered. The shrill, short bursts of sound grated on the ounce of nerves I had left. On and on it went, my ear aching from the force of my grinding jaw.
“Letting it go to voicemail?” Ghost assumed after too long went by. “Pretty rude yet not surprising.”
I reached for the gun still sitting on the counter. No, I wasn’t going to use it. Yet. But the weight of it in my hand made me feel more in control, like I had options.
In truth, my options were few, and all of them were grim.
Good thing I was practically a goddamn grim reaper.
Swearing under my breath, I disconnected the call and dialed it again. Frankly, giving any notice at all was courtesy. The least they could do was pick up the fucking phone.
“I’m not calling again,” I told Ghost. “Next time, they can answer to a bullet.” Or many.
Ghost spread his hands in a what can you do kind of gesture. “The patron saint of patience is what you are right now. The Dalai Lama incarnate.”
Ghost said some stupid shit, didn’t he?
The last thing I would call myself was patient. After that shower with Haz, I was even less so.
I love you back.
For a man like me, hearing those words was the catalyst to an all-out war. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him safe. Nothing.
“How did you get this number?” a deep voice snarled into the line.
“Same place I got some information you seem to be lacking,” I bit back.
A persistent snapping sound came over the line, and I knew he was signaling for whoever he was with to trace the call. Good luck with that.
“Who says I’m lacking anything?” His voice was overfull with smug arrogance.
Arrogance was mere propaganda for the weak. “The fact that Matteo Salvatore’s murderer is still breathing.”
Weighted silence filled the line. Then a low, “Excuse me?”
I rattled off an address, then said, “Four p.m. I have proof.”
“You think you can just summon me? Who is this?”
“I have what you need. Therefore, you can come and get it. I’m not your lapdog, and I never will be. If you aren’t there by four, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
“Who is this?” he demanded again, his voice mottled with frustration.
“Clock’s ticking.”
“If I come, it won’t be alone,” he threatened.
“Good,” I replied and disconnected the call.
“Wish I could see his face when they try and trace that call and come up empty,” Ghost mused. “Suckers.”
Perk of working for the government, a phone not even the mafia could trace.
“I need you to stay here with Haz when I meet them later.”
A grim expression crossed his features, and he shook his head. “You need backup.”
“I can take care of myself. But that little hazard is a human banana peel, and I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m worrying about him slipping into the morgue.”
“I don’t know, Vaughn.” Ghost doubted me. “You’re walking into a lion’s den. We can keep him locked up here.”
A muffled thud and a curse had me turning. A moment later, Haz appeared out of the hallway, scowling as he clutched the waistband of a pair of black sweatpants up to his chest. “Can you drive me over to my place? I need some clothes.”
“I prefer you in mine,” I told him, trying to ignore the way my heart fluttered at just the sight of him. Ever since he likened his heart to a kite, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Feeling it.
“Your pants are death traps,” he accused, hiking them up. His entire lower body and torso were swallowed in fabric with only his bare toes visible beneath the too-long hem. It was endearing, adorable, and made me even more devoted to protecting him.
“So don’t wear any,” I surmised.
“Pretty sure I’d get fired if I showed up to work pantless.”
I now understood why people said work was a four-letter word. You know, besides the fact that it is a four-letter word. “Work?”
Haz made a frustrated sound. “We’ve had this conversation before. I have four jobs.”
“Four,” Ghost reiterated.
“Three now.” I reminded him coolly.
Haz rolled his eyes. “You can’t just quit a job for me.”
“Walk into the Blue Orchid just one time and see what happens,” I contested.
Hazard turned pleading eyes to Ghost.
Ghost made a sound. “I agree with him. You can’t be working at a brothel.”
“It’s not a brothel,” Hazard argued.
“So Clive Rigaldi didn’t offer you a job in the back rooms as a whore?” I questioned, my eyebrow daring him to lie.
Haz’s cheeks flamed. “I told him no.”
“Don’t push me, Haz,” I said quietly. “I will burn the place down with everyone inside, light a cigarette with the flames, and stand there to watch it burn.”
“I miss cigarettes,” Ghost said wistfully, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out yet another bag of nuts.
“Is that what that’s about?” I asked, hitching my chin at them.
He tossed a few into his mouth and started chomping. “Gotta keep my hands busy.”
“Should have kept the cigs. A lot less annoying,” I muttered.
“They’re bad for me,” Ghost murmured, something in his voice I couldn’t quite place. But then he smiled and held up the bag. “Nuts have healthy fats, though. Good for the ticker.”
“You’re not allowed to randomly kill people,” Haz said, bringing my attention back to him. “And burning that place is definitely not allowed.”
I smiled.
Haz’s eyes widened. “Fine,” he whined. “I quit that job. But I still have a shift at Neon Reef later. And I’m not quitting or calling out.”
My lips parted.
Haz made a sound and stabbed his finger in my direction. The pants he’d been holding up dropped to the floor. I almost erupted at the sight Ghost was about to see until I realized the T-shirt he had on went to his thighs.
With a disgruntled nose wrinkle, Haz kicked them away and stomped forward, jabbing his finger into my chest. “And don’t even think about threatening the fish. I draw the line there, buddy. I know where the guns are, and thanks to you, I know how to use them.”
Ghost cackled.
I glanced between the finger stabbing into my chest and Hazard’s furrowed brow. “What time is your shift?”
Surprise flitted over his face, but then he answered. “Twelve to eight. I’m closing tonight.”
“Eight hours?” I said, shocked. “I thought it was a fish store, not a sweatshop.” What in the hell kind of place handed out eight-hour shifts?
“I understand you might be a little out of touch with employment because you, ah, off people for a living, but a typical workday for most people is eight hours,” Hazard explained.
“And usually, I do a shift for Uber Eats after.” His face lit up.
“Oh, that reminds me. Know where my car is? I’ll need it. ”
Bending down, he yanked the sweats back up to just under his pecs and tied the string so tight I wondered if he would be able to breathe.
“You are not working for eight hours and then driving around to deliver food to people who are too lazy to go and get it themselves.”
Haz’s shoulders stiffened. “Not everyone is lazy. Some people don’t have a car. Or are sick and can’t get out. One time, I delivered to a mother whose baby was in bed. And one time to a hospital.”
“You must make good tips,” Ghost put in like he was part of this conversation.
Haz shrugged. “Food is expensive these days.”
Red danced in my vision. “Are you telling me that people don’t even bother to tip you?”
“Some do,” he hurried to say.
“You can work until five.” I decided. Then I thought about the meeting I’d scheduled at four. “Six,” I amended. “But you have to take an hour break to eat.”
Haz said nothing, just went over to Cliff and Atlas to stick his fingers into the soil. When he was done, he had dirt on his fingertips.
We’d literally just showered and changed his bandages because they’d all gotten wet. I left him in the bathroom to dry his hair and dress, and what was the first thing he did? Stick his fingers in the dirt. Unbelievable.
I watched in horror as he wiped it on his leg.
“Do you know where my car is?”
“It’s at the impound lot at the police station,” I told him. I found it the other day just like I said I would.
Haz nodded and started across the room. “You can drop me off there, and then I’ll drive over to my place for some clothes before my shift that starts at twelve and ends at eight.”
Was he pretending not to have heard what I said? Or just flat out ignoring it?
Ghost laughed under his breath, and I shot him a death glare.
“Make sure you bring enough money to get your car out of impound.”
Haz spun, his sneaker flying out of his hand. “I have to pay to get my car back?”
“That’s how it works,” I answered.
“But it’s my car.”
“Tax man wants his money, honey,” Ghost quipped.
“Don’t call him honey,” I snapped.
“How much is it going to cost?” Haz wanted to know.
I shrugged. “There’s no set amount. Hard to say.”
“Will it be a lot?” he asked, his voice sounding a lot less confident than before.
Just seeing the anxiety on his face was enough to make me want to rush over there and assure him it didn’t matter how much it cost because I would make sure he got his car.
I forced myself to stand in place and nod. “Could be.”
Haz grabbed his lost shoe and sat on the floor. With the sofa in the way, I couldn’t see him from where I was standing. I debated for two seconds and then unrooted, walking forward.
He was there, tugging on his shoes, my clothes swallowing him whole. Despite the brush and hair dryer I’d handed him, his hair still somehow looked uncombed. I detested disarray and wanted everything neat.
So please explain to me how such a chaotic mess claimed my heart completely.
Forgetting everything, I moved around the furniture and knelt in front of his hunched frame. Gently, I brushed his hands away to tie the laces myself. He needed new shoes. These weren’t good enough for his feet.
“Don’t worry about the cost, baby doll. I’ll take care of it,” I murmured, tugging the string of the shoe he’d already tied.
“Hey,” he protested, looking up.