8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Wyatt
Three days ago
“I obviously don't want her hurt, not permanently. And I especially don't want her aesthetically damaged, so nothing that would leave a physical scar. I just want her to be very happy to be home once I pay the ransom and rescue her from the awful, scary, bad men.”
The man across from me gives me a crooked smile and leans back in his chair after he finishes explaining what he wants to hire Jesse and me to do. I stare at the blue surrounding his pupils long enough that he looks away, his eyes flicking to the side.
And I'm supposed to be the monster.
“No, no,” I say softly. “Don't look away. You made the call. You asked me to meet you. There's no reason to look away now. You know what you want and you asked for it.”
He tries to smile again, but doesn't quite make it. “So you'll take the job?”
I push out a heavy breath through my nose. I don't usually take jobs that involve women or kids. I don't like dealing with that much emotional dramatics. I typically don't do abductions, period, but something about this one felt different. It isn't the guy. The guy is a piece of shit. It's the job itself and I can't put my finger on it. Now that I'm sitting at this table with him, that feeling is still pulling at me and the sight of him and the way the words sound coming out of his mouth are making me regret entertaining this whole thing.
Jesse won't like it. He doesn't touch what he calls couple's therapy . It's almost always some pissed off husband or ex boyfriend who wants revenge on his cheating wife and that hits too close for comfort for Jesse. He doesn't take these types of jobs regardless of the money the client throws at it.
But I've got this feeling crawling all over me. It's clawing up my spine like a thousand little stinging insects.
“Why?”
He blinks at me. “Why what?”
“Why hire us to take her? Why not just make her miserable yourself? Cut out the middle men. She'd be just as happy for you to treat her right again, if you were to handle things on your own. His eyes shift around the room before he answers me and I don't miss the way he rubs and twists his fingertips together. “Because I've got a company to run and her theatrics are already taking up so much of my time and attention. I need more time away from my wife to do the things that need to be done and I simply don't have time to make her as unhappy as I need her to be. Besides, I want to hire professionals. And that's what you are. Isn't it?”
Of course I'm a professional. I can professionally rip out her toenails and feed them to her, but I just don't like this guy. “What did she do to you anyway? Have an affair? Maybe with your best friend? Buy an expensive new bag or eight without asking first? Didn't get the dishes clean enough for you?” He doesn't look like the type of man who would beat his wife, but most of the men who do that kind of thing don't look the part.
“No, of course not.” He laughs. “Nothing like that. Larken just doesn't have any give. She needs to learn her place.”
I sit back in my chair and watch him for another long minute. It's disappointing when he doesn't look away from my stare, but I'll live. Larken. I like that. I've known a Lark in my lifetime, and a Wren. Several Robins. But this is the first Larken I've come across.
The thing is... I really, really don't like this guy. Something about him is unsavory. And Jesse really, really won't like it. I sigh and lace my fingers behind my head. It's just another job. “Fifty thousand.”
A greasy smile spreads across his face. “Done.”
As expected, Jesse doesn't like it; but it turns out that that doesn't matter. In a god awful turn of events, Jesse has been arrested. For robbing a gas station, of all things. I put money on his books, but he's going to be locked up for a while. We have a strict rule that we are to steer clear of each other if either of us ever gets arrested and this is the first time it's been implemented. And now I'm in a pickle.
Can I do this job alone? Probably. It isn't a particularly difficult job, I just don't care for the guy who’s paying for it; but whether or not I like him doesn't matter when it comes to getting paid. I just know that this is the type of job that looks easy but ends up being full of bullshit. It always is when women and children are involved.
This might end up being for the best. Grabbing the girl isn't the biggest issue, it's the part about making her miserable that’s off-putting. I can get someone in on it who isn't bothered by that kind of thing and let them handle the majority of that part while I handle everything else. I know a few people who know a few people. Finding someone for a quick job shouldn't be a problem. So I make the drive down to Rutgers Pawn because anybody who knows anybody in this area met them there.
I patiently wait my turn in line to ask about the pearl necklace under the counter, making sure to mention the matching earrings. Rutgers comes to take the clerk’s place and reaches under the glass top for the jewelry. “What's your time frame?” he asks quietly.
“Three days.”
He nods, spreading the necklace in a straight line across the cloth on the counter top. “Any preferences?”
“I'm not looking to babysit or be babysat. It's just a quick and easy, get it done and get on with it job. No theatrics.”
He nods again and runs his fingertips lightly across the pearls. “I have a guy.”
~
I meet the guy at the coffee shop on main street. So much for no theatrics. It looks like babysitting might be on the table, too. He's younger than I am by at least five years and covered in tattoos. Facial tattoos are bad for this line of work but apparently I'm the only one who understands that. Whatever. Rutgers wouldn't have sent him if he didn't think he could do the job. It's fine.
I watch the guy walk in and order a coffee and sit down at a table in front of the window. I've come to realize that there are typically two types of people in this line of work, hide in the shadows, or hide in plain sight. It's obvious which one he is. It's fine. This is going to be fine. I stand up from my cozy chair in the back corner of the shop and walk through the jumble of end tables, coffee tables, and cafe tables with all their associated seating options until I'm pulling out a chair at the brightly-lit table by the window.
The guy leans over and blows across the top of his...hot chocolate. My god. I'm about to do a job with a kid who drinks hot chocolate at a business meeting.
“I knew you'd be one of those.”
I sit down and put my coffee on the table. “One of those?”
“Hide in the deepest, darkest corner with your deep, dark black coffee like you're invisible.” He blows across the top of the cup again. “Everyone can see you. The deep, dark corner is where the weirdos and the creepers lurk and that's the first place people look.”
“Not all people,” I retort and take a sip of my deep, dark coffee.
“Smart people.”
“You're not wrong. We going with first names, last names, or fake names?” I don't care which, it doesn't matter for this. This is a one-and-done job.
“Shaun.” He reaches across the table to offer his tattoo-covered hand.
I allow myself a long blink before I shake it. “Wyatt.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Wyatt?”
I raise a brow. “Shaun.”
He laughs and takes a small sip of his hot chocolate. “Rutgers said I'd like you.”
Well, that's good I guess. It will make things easier. “Have you done a job like this before?”
“Loads. Have you?”
I sigh. “Not exactly like this one, but plenty of similar jobs.”
“What's different about this one?”
I sigh again, already feeling the strain this job will likely put on me. “It's going to be a more interactive job than I usually take on. I also don't typically take on jobs involving women or children.”
“Sooo,” he drags out the word and takes another sip. “Do you have some kind of hero complex or do you have mommy issues?” His mouth pulls to the side as he regards me. “Or both?”
“Neither. I don't like extra work or theatrics. But I'm making an exception in this case.”
“Why?”
I tilt my head to the side and blink at him. “Because.”
He grins. “Well, that's interesting. Do you have a plan already? You seem like the type who has everything planned out before the meeting starts.”
I lick my lips to keep from smiling. “I do.”
“Good.” He keeps my gaze over his cup. “I hope it's a good one.”
“Here's the address.” I pull up the picture of the house with the address typed across the front and turn it to face him. He takes out his own phone and takes a picture of my screen. “Be there at 5am. Monday. The husband won't be there. They don't own a dog. No kids. We'll take the wife right out the front door, then –”
“The front door? Aren't there neighbors?”
“Yes. The husband said the front door would be the best and quickest option. He said the neighbors wouldn't be an issue.”
He puts his cup down in front of him and looks at me. “How? If I saw my neighbor being dragged out the front door, I'd call the cops. Or worse, I might consider getting involved.”
“Most of the neighbors are old, I looked into it myself. And they won't see us dragging her out. The husband assured me that if we're there that early, no one will be awake and outside to see anything.”
Shaun shakes his head. “If you say so. You have a place to take her, I'm sure.”
“I do.”
“Great. See you then.” Shaun downs the rest of his hot chocolate like it isn't still hot and leaves without bothering to push his chair under the table or take his cup to the counter.
I'll just have to keep reminding myself that Rutgers wouldn't have sent him if he wasn't a good option. He didn't ask any big questions, didn't ask about details, didn't seem to want any additional information at all; and I can't decide if that's a good thing or if it adds more stress to the job. I'd have plenty of questions. I do have plenty of questions.
What kind of husband wants his wife to be kidnapped and essentially tortured? And without any kind of financial gain? He's paying us to do it, so he's losing money. Maybe she did cheat on him and he doesn't want to admit it and he wants to get back at her. But if that was the case, wouldn't he want the guy to answer for it too? Maybe he's got another plan for that. Or maybe he's just the piece of shit he seems to be and he just wants to abuse his probably brow-beaten wife even more than he already is. My bet is that he's just another bastard who enjoys being an asshole, but we'll see.