18
Notes:
Sorry this chapter was late. I plotted revenge against everyone who ever wronged me, but I ran out of glitter and silly string. What? How do you do revenge?
Milo
I’m fucking stalling. I don’t even know why.
Fine, I do.
It’s pathetic. I stopped to pick up road snacks and filled up the car with gas. The stolen car I’m probably going to abandon in the airport’s long-term parking in a few hours.
When my phone rings, I’m feeling extra salty. Especially when I see the caller is Ray. Heading to another job is what I planned to do, but I’m not feeling it at all.
“What the fuck do you want, Ray?”
“Jesus. Who pissed on your morning sunshine?”
I did. “Just got done dicking around in a beach town and taking care of a guy for free because you took on a job we shouldn’t have taken.” And I left the mark I was getting too attached to at his apartment, which is making me want to flip a U-turn so badly I’m questioning my sanity.
“You’re right. The fuckup was mine. I’ll vet things more carefully in the future.”
“Please do.”
“You sure you’re solid, though? You’re not usually this pissy.”
“You rarely give me a reason to be.”
“I’m seeing what Andrew meant when he said you were mercurial.”
“Ray, I don’t give two shits what our mutual cheating ex thought of my moods. He’s lucky I let him live after I caught him ass-up with that bartender. Where am I headed next?”
“I’ve got one I think you’ll like. Just came in.
Joel Freeberg. Killed his ex-girlfriend.
She had a restraining order. Police were called several times because he was harassing her but said they couldn’t do anything.
Shot her on her front porch a few days ago, and he’s already out on bail awaiting trial.
Her family would like to make sure he gets a fair sentence, if you know what I mean.
Best part—it’s in Florida, a few hours south of where you are now. ”
“Okay. Good.” This is the sort of case I like.
The sort that got me started in this business.
They don’t pay as well as offing a corrupt CEO or Wall Street executive, but they’re satisfying.
“Uh, I just have a few loose ends to tie up first. Send me the information if you want, and I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Might be tomorrow.”
“Thought you said you had everything there wrapped up.”
“Thought I did, but there’s one last thing I need to take care of.” Two things, along with dropping off Brennan’s key. Rowan and I never exchanged numbers. We didn’t need to when we were together all the time. And frankly, I convinced myself it was a bad idea.
A guy who got seduced by a much older man before he was legal and who stayed with that man for four years doesn’t need a contract killer asking him to consider—what? Dating? Going out for a movie sometime?
If I asked Jalen to pass on a message though, then the ball would be in Rowan’s court. If he wants to see each other again, it’s up to him. Maybe he’d want to see me tonight before I have to leave town.
It’s worth a shot.
As I’m pulling into the parking lot of a local laundromat, I sign off the call with Ray.
The stores here are all pretty basic. It’s obviously a less affluent neighborhood, which makes it an interesting choice for a crime boss to set up shop.
Or maybe it doesn’t. People in this area probably mind their own business.
The operators maintain the strip mall well, even if it looks a little old. There’s a coffee shop, a pool supply store, a tattoo parlor, and, of course, the laundromat, which is where I’m told Brennan has his main office.
The place is clean and well lit. A little bell jingles when I walk in, though I don’t know why since not a single person looks up when I enter.
It’s midafternoon, and there are a couple of college students pushing each other around in a laundry cart and a tired-looking mom trying to fold laundry while keeping half an eye on two toddlers who are overly interested in the machine that dispenses detergent.
Both things make me shudder. I’ve never liked kids much, and the college students? They remind me of what Rowan told me, about how he didn’t go because of Tucker.
I’m still tempted to murder the SOB. Maybe giving my number to Jalen isn’t a great idea after all.
There’s a door at the back marked Employees Only. I knock, surprised when a muffled voice shouts for me to come in.
When I walk in, I’m met again by Brennan Doyle, crime boss of Belle Argo.
When last we met it was at a shady warehouse on the eastern side of town, so he looks out of place sitting in his suit behind a desk.
Like an accountant who wound up in the wrong office, if that accountant had a tattoo of a bull on his neck.
He’s wearing a pair of reading glasses and muttering something about “stupid fucking spreadsheets.”
I glance around. “Sorry to interrupt. Jalen here, by any chance?”
“Went to grab me some coffee.” He checks his watch. “He’s been gone about half an hour, so I’m expecting him back any minute.”
“Takes him thirty minutes to get coffee from the shop two doors down?” Maybe it’s a euphemism?
“I prefer this other place downtown. Best mochas you ever had. Anyway.” He pushes his chair back and folds his hands. “What can I do for you?”
I pull the key out of one of my zippered pockets and hand it over. “Thanks for letting us use your place.”
He grins. “No problem. You know you could’ve left it under the mat though, right?”
“Doesn’t sound very secure.”
“Anyone who tries to enter my place without an invitation, they’re going to wind up talking to the barrel of my gun or the bottom of my boot.”
“Got it. Well.” I glance around one more time, even though it’s only the two of us in the room. “Thought I’d also say goodbye to Jalen before I left. Let him know we’re square on the entire issue of who owes whom favors. I’ll just call him, though.”
This is already getting ridiculous. I do need to leave town.
I turn to go, but as if I’ve summoned him, Jalen walks in carrying one of those cardboard coffee Troys with two drinks. He raises his eyebrows at me. “Hey, man.” He plunks a coffee cup on the desk. “Peppermint mocha, soy milk, no whip, heavy on the cowardly bitch. You’re welcome.”
Brennan’s right eyebrow looks like a warning signal. “Go fuck yourself, J.”
Jalen rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his own drink. “He’s fine, by the way.”
Though I try to stay out of other people’s drama, I guess I don’t hide my curiosity. Or maybe I never realized Jalen’s a gossipy old lady in the body of a six-foot-tall Dominican because he turns and gives me a wink.
“Brennan’s got me stalking some kid who used to live next door to one of his escorts.”
Brennan’s fist comes down on his desk. “It’s not goddamn stalking.” More quietly, he adds, “And he’s not a kid.”
The grin Jalen gives me suggests this is a recurring conversation. I’m about to say my goodbyes when my old friend snaps his fingers. “Oh. Fuck. Got a call from the hacker who looked into Rowan’s contract for you.”
My ears perk up. “And?”
“Dude went down a rabbit hole, I guess. Saw something when he was closing out his research that piqued his curiosity, which led to something, which led to something else—”
“Great. Can you just fucking tell me what it is?” I’m trying to take a full breath, forcing my fingers to uncurl.
Jalen shrugs. “Nobody gives a shit about good storytelling these days. Anyway, someone in town was spreading a lot of money around looking for Rowan, and that someone turned out to be his ex.”
My heart squeezes. Every thought I had on the way here about getting a message to Rowan or maybe swinging by his apartment one more time… None of it might matter after all. The guy sounded like a creep, but emotional hooks tend to stay stuck.
That’s what I get for leaving Rowan stunned at his doorstep the way I did.
“He probably wants him back,” I mutter, unable to conceal my disgust. “Rowan said he left the guy without saying goodbye.”
“Maybe. It’s a little weird, though. Turns out his ex is Tucker Henderson, who’s been in the news a lot lately for a potential bid for governor.”
“Congress,” Brennan corrects.
“Right. One of those family values fuckers. Especially big on ‘traditional family values,’ which is real fucking funny considering he had an underaged boy toy living in his beach house a few years ago.”
Wait. “How did you know about that?”
“Came up in Ryan’s research. He found a filed copy of an NDA. Didn’t specifically reference the type of relationship they had, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines.”
“Jesus Mildred Christ.” For a minute I’m silent, chewing on the reasons Rowan’s ex might look for him when he’s about to become a very public figure. The answer that comes to me turns my blood to ice. “He might try to make sure Rowan doesn’t spill anything.”
Jalen nods. “Many ways to do that. Including putting a hit on a young man whose only mistake was trusting the wrong sugar daddy.”
I’m already on my way to the door. “I have to find him.” My gut knows Jalen’s right, as much as I don’t want him to be. I already killed the person whose name was attached to Rowan’s contracts, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. The guy I killed could have been paid to handle the risky part.
“Hang on a second, man.” Jalen’s holding his phone up to his ear.
I spin with what must be a murderous expression on my face. “I have to get to Rowan.”
“And you don’t fucking know where he is.
He texted me earlier asking him to call.
Already tried while I was waiting for Prissy McBossypants’s drink earlier.
Four times. Rang through to voicemail the first three times, then went straight to voicemail at the end.
Could be nothing, but doesn’t that sound a little like someone shutting his phone off to stop the calls from coming in?
Somone’s getting sloppy in his old age.”
Shit. He’s right. I’m not thinking clearly. Thank fuck someone is. “I’m not that old.”
Jalen switches to talking to whoever’s on the phone. “Hey. Following up on the information about Rowan. Can you ping the last location on his phone?”
Brennan, who’s standing now, gives Jalen the finger but doesn’t interrupt. Good fucking thing since I’m already cramping from stomach knots.
The next few minutes are the longest of my life. I pace Brennan’s office like a circus tiger until Jalen finally thanks the person on the other end and hangs up. “His phone was last tagged near Interstate two seventy-five.”
Brennan frowns. “That’s probably not a good sign.”
“Why? Where is that?” My attention pings back and forth, trying to read any information from their faces.
“Runs south along the coast. Means he’s nowhere near home.” Jalen pulls up a mapping app on his phone to show me.
Jalen’s app shows the coast is dotted by many smaller cities and towns, yet one specifically catches my attention. “Ana Maria Island. Rowan mentioned his ex having a house there. Fuck.”
Not wanting to waste any more time, I’m almost to the door when I hear footsteps behind me. “I’m riding with you.”
“You don’t owe me anymore, Jalen.”
“Maybe not, but Rowan’s one of ours, and we look after the family. Besides, you run in there half-cocked without a solid plan and you’re going to be the one needing emergency surgery in the middle of a bayou.”
As tempted as I am to argue, I have to admit I can use the help. “Fine. Thank you. See if your hacker can find a floor plan of this guy’s house while I drive.”
I’m forcing myself to breathe as I peel out of the parking lot, praying we can get to Rowan before it’s too late.