Chapter 16 #2
“Scorpion sting,” Ricardo said mildly as he opened the back door and got inside. “Heidi says I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Oww,” their driver said. “Was it a little orange one? Those hurt the worst.”
Ricardo arched an eyebrow. Did you seriously bring a civilian into this?
August raised both of his in response. Did you seriously expect me to be able to navigate these streets on my own?
Ricardo sighed.
That’s what I thought. “Let’s go,” he said, and forced himself to turn around and act like he didn’t want to get back there and go over every square inch of Ricardo for injuries he might be hiding.
Getting back to the airport was far easier than getting away from it had been—or maybe it was the lack of constant adrenaline that just made it seem that way.
As soon as August recognized the street where he’d gotten them a hotel room, he had them pull over, took out another thousand, and handed it to her.
“Thanks for your help,” he said. “If you don’t mind dropping the car off in the parking lot of the Metromall, that would be great. ”
She blinked at him. “Just…wherever?”
“Just wherever.” If the owner really valued the car, he wouldn’t have left it idling on the curb. Even August knew that. He heard the back door close and got out himself, then turned, looked at Ricardo, and pointed down the street. “Move.”
They walked in silence, got to the hotel in silence—a decent compromise, not as upscale as August usually liked but probably not as low-profile as Ricardo would have preferred—and got to the room in silence.
August locked the door behind them. “Jacket off.”
“August—”
“Now. Right now.”
Ricardo sighed and eased his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, being especially careful with the right one. “I’m fine,” he said as August took his hand and inspected the sting. The flesh around the little mark was swollen and hot to the touch. He let go and headed for the door.
“I’m getting ice. Take a painkiller.”
“I’m fine.”
August smiled at him, a bit manically but he really didn’t care anymore. “You will be as long as you do what I say!” If he let the door slam shut on the way out, well, that was just punctuation.
There was no ice machine, but the front desk was able to get him some, as well as a plastic bag.
He carried it back to the room and found Ricardo sitting on the edge of the bed in dry clothes, perfectly unconcerned as he tapped a message into his phone with his left hand.
It was slow going; Ricardo wasn’t ambidextrous at anything but shooting.
“The job’s been publicly credited to us,” he said as August prepped a quick compress with the ice and a clean washcloth.
August nodded and laid the compress on Ricardo’s hand.
“So now we wait, I suppose.” His mouth twisted at the thought.
Wait, when they could have had NightPigeon dead to rights and dead in his sights.
Should have, in fact. If he hadn’t fucked up the follow and let that son of a bitch get ahead of him when he—
“It’s okay.”
August scowled at Ricardo. “Don’t coddle me.”
“I’m not,” Ricardo insisted. The corners of his mouth were soft, the way they went when he was thinking nice things about August. Which frankly, he shouldn’t be right now. “This could have gone a lot worse.”
“It could have gone a lot better, too.”
“We didn’t have to evacuate a building or put ourselves at risk to keep bystanders from getting killed, so it’s already better than the last few times.”
Well…he had a point. Still. “Next time, I get to be the morally bankrupt asshole and you can be the person expected to drive like a madman through a hurricane, okay?”
Ricardo smiled. “That wasn’t a hurricane, just an afternoon shower.”
“Not helping, baby.”
Whatever reply Ricardo would have made was lost to the quiet buzz of his phone.
He glanced at it, and his eyes went flat and dark, the way they did whenever he was looking through a scope or getting up close and personal with a knife.
“It’s a local number,” he said quietly. “There’s no one here who should know how to get in touch with me, though. ”
“Did you leave Darrow’s phone on his body?”
Ricardo nodded.
Well, then. “You better answer it.”
Ricardo put the call on speaker. “Who is this?”
“Ah, Senor Munoz.” August’s shoulders tightened, and the cut at the side of his neck began to ache as soon as he heard that smug, stupid voice. “Or should I say Mr. Torralba?”
“I don’t care what you call me,” Ricardo replied in a bored tone.
“Hmm. Well, I found your little present.”
August rolled his eyes. Jesus Christ, how many bad serial killer documentaries had this guy seen?
“What do you want, a prize for coming in second? Again?” Ricardo asked.
NightRaven laughed. “I seem to remember coming out on top in our last three competitions!”
“Those weren’t competitions.” Ricardo couldn’t have sounded more dismissive. August hoped it was driving the other man wild. “That was you doing the equivalent of a ride-along and then printing yourself a fake badge. Some people might be impressed, but not anyone who knows better.”
“I’m closing in on your ranking faster than you ever earned it.”
Ricardo smiled. “Because you’ve written yourself a cheat code.
That’s clever, but it’s not original, and it’s definitely not going to be enough to put you at the top of the rankings.
And even if it does, all it shows is that you can imitate the best. So what?
That doesn’t make you anything like an equal. ”
There was a pause. “You know, maybe you’re right. I won’t really be the best until I depose the current kings once and for all.” A crack of thunder obscured his voice for a second. “So let’s do it. Right here, right now, in Panama. We’re all in the same place, we might as well make the most of it.”
“Ugh.” August couldn’t stay quiet. He was still soaked from the storm, and he was cold on top of that thanks to the air conditioning, and now this guy wanted them to go out into it all again? Really?
“You should be thankful I’m offering you this opportunity, Mr. Morrison, instead of immediately going after your families the way I was tempted to.” The Pigeon of Darkness laughed again. “I was thinking I’d start with the grandmother—”
Ricardo pressed his good hand over August’s mouth before he could get out the first threat to slowly castrate this piece of shit for even mentioning L’Avia.
“—but it might be more fun to start with the ex. Eve, isn’t it? She seems nice. Has a hard time finding a good man, though. Her last two dates ended poorly.”
Shit, that was true as far as August knew. He and Eve sometimes video-called for post-mortems of her dates, and the last one had taken them two hours and a full bottle of wine to get through.
“What do you think she’d say if I slid into her DMs and offered her a night on the town?”
She’d say ‘Fuck off, creep!’
“There’s no need to involve anyone else,” Ricardo said, always the voice of reason. “Now is fine.”
August pointed at Ricardo’s swollen hand. Ricardo rolled his eyes.
Don’t you roll your eyes at me!
“Wonderful. I’ll let you know where to go. Don’t be late, boys.” NightPigeon ended the call, and August immediately pulled Ricardo’s hand off his mouth.
“Now is not fine!” They were wet and cold and exhausted and Ricardo was full of scorpion venom and if they had to drive he would have to drive, and August hated that he was going to put that on him when he was injured but if he didn’t they might not make it more than a block, and—
“It’s better than him going after Eve,” Ricardo pointed out.
It was.
But that didn’t mean August had to like it.