8. Sebastion
SEBASTION
POKéMON TRADE
How can a woman who trades jab for jab with a guy like me end up the victim of some pissant like Roy Daniels? How could all five-feet-nine-inches of white-collar pussy lock her out of their apartment, and she just… cry about it?
But if I offer her an avocado and mention her period, she’s ready to fight?
How can she fearlessly drive her knife into my gut, but folks like Daniels are left to weave their webs of soul-destroying words and well-placed taps on the chin?
His existence made a vibrant woman bitter. His cruelty made her hard. And his death made her mean.
Fucked if I know how those dudes operate. I suppose I’m just too damn literal to understand the intricacies of peeling a woman’s spirit back, layer by layer.
I didn’t do the crime, but I’m the unlucky motherfucker who gets to share a house with the dusty remnants of who this chick used to be.
The package is still in damn good shape, but the bullshit hidden inside, the insanity swirling in her brain?
Yeah, that’s for the men who give a shit enough to carry someone else’s baggage.
That ain’t me.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself every time we’re in the same room.
If she comes to the kitchen for coffee, and I’m already sitting at the counter? She ignores my existence, fills her mug, and makes me wonder why the hell I’m still here.
Nova’s not gonna cause trouble for us. And who gives a fuck about Scarlett’s letter-dropper? Richard’s dead, and my mother’s location remains, to this day, a secret.
If I’m already in the living room and Princess Scarlett wanders in with her pencils and book clutched close, she stops, swallows, and leaves again.
And still, I stay.
It’s not like I don’t have better things to do.
But do I get up and go?
No. I don’t.
Twelve days after Scarlett arrived in Mount Gaines and torpedoed a spanner through our plans to get the hell out of Dodge, Lincoln stalks through the back door, stomps across the kitchen, and slaps his phone onto the counter beside my elbow.
“Uh… you good?” With a lifted brow and not a lot of sympathy for his shitty mood, I press my finger to the phone screen and slide it away. “Or are you being noisy cause you think it turns me on?”
“Nova!” He lifts his mouth to the ceiling and shouts loud enough to be heard all the way over in fuckin’ Kentucky. “Kitchen!”
“What are y—”
“Scarlett, too.”
He whips the fridge open and snatches out a can of Coke. Cracking the seal, he brings fiery eyes my way. Finally. “Family meeting.”
“Family?” I look left. Right. Then to the hallway entrance as Scarlett emerges and swaps her wary gaze for a glare of impatience. She saves that shit just for me. I tap the counter and push to my feet. “I don’t see my family in this room, so I suppose I’ll get outta your hair and leave you to it.”
“What’s going on?” Nova wanders in; curious, concerned, cautious. “What happened?”
“Stay.” Lincoln claps a hand on my shoulder to keep me where I am, then he takes a long pull of his soda and peeks toward his sister. “I just got off the phone with Detective Mills.”
“Oh… um… okay.” Princess Scarlett swallows her contemptuousness and meets my eyes… without sneering. “Wh-what did he want?”
“We needed help.” Grunting, Linc backs up and leans against the counter by the stove.
“We’ve been sitting on our hands for nearly two weeks.
We’re running blind, no clue who left that note at your apartment, no idea beyond assumptions what the hell they want from you, and even less clue when they intend to make contact next. ”
“S-so you called Mills? You told him—”
“Not everything. I didn’t mention Roy, nor what was on the note, and I sure as fuck didn’t discuss Richard Aster or anyone associated with him.”
“So what did you say?”
“I played on what he already knew about you.” He drums his fingertips on the underside of the counter, tapping out a constant rhythm.
“I said you discovered a note on your apartment door from someone we assume is a dude. He could be an admirer, could be someone you turned down at the bar or something. I went mostly with the truth: we don’t know who he is, but that he spooked you, which is why you’re here with me. ”
“Oh God.” She pushes through the doorway and crosses the kitchen on shaky legs.
Surprising us all, though no one as much as me, she pulls out the stool near mine and drops heavily.
“Now he’s going to worry. He thought I was here for fun, Linc.
A quick getaway…” Her eyes well up, sparkling and wet. “He’ll know I lied to him.”
“He already knows you lie when you’re scared.
Your MO is to pretend everything is fine, even when it’s not.
Now we use the cop’s eyes available to us, especially since he’s in the city your messenger is presumably still in.
Mills knows a lot of your history, and even without me mentioning Roy, his detective brain will have him considering the dudes he associated with.
It’s entirely possible we’re looking for one of Roy’s friends in all this. ”
Scarlett sets her elbows on the counter, hunching her back and pressing the pads of her thumbs to her eyes. “Okay.” She exhales a sad sigh. “So he’s gonna ask around?”
“He already did.”
Stunned, she snaps her spine straight again. “What?”
“I told him two days ago. I just didn’t tell you, since you’re clearly handling your stress so well already.”
Gulping, I catch the flicker of her bright blue stare peeking my way. Apologetic. Fearful. Embarrassed. But then they’re gone again, back to her brother. “You should have told me.”
“Yeah? Well, you should’ve told me about the letter as soon as you walked through our front door. Or better yet, before you even got on the damn plane. You didn’t, which is why we’re in the situation we’re in now.”
“Did Detective Mills call with information?” Nova comes to a stop beside her man, first resting her shoulder against his, then sidling under his arm the instant he lifts it and welcomes her in. “That’s why you’re bringing him up now?”
“Yes. He said he has a CI who knew Roy back in the day. A friend, as far as Roy thought. A snitch, in reality. He told Mills about these whispers he’d heard around town. A guy named Jones is getting kinda noisy, apparently, and your name has come up a time or two.”
Anger tingles along my spine. Awareness makes it easy to form a plan in my mind: hop a plane, head to Colorado, break a motherfucker’s neck, bury him with his friend.
I could be done in under twenty-four hours, set Scarlett free, then I can go home again.
“The letter said he knew what I’d done.” Scarlett’s voice comes out on a pained rasp as she drops her hands into her lap and fusses with the sleeve of her sweater. “If the letter writer is this guy Jones, wouldn’t he just tell the cops?”
“Not if he wants a payday,” I grit through tight teeth. “He doesn’t want justice. He wants Benjamins.” I look to Lincoln. “Send me the details. I’ll take care of it.”
“What?” Horrified, Scarlett spins on her stool and grabs my arm as desperation spills from her every pore. “Take care of it how? W-what do you mean take—”
“I’ll convince him to let this go.” I tug free and circle my stool. “And if I can’t convince him, I’ll make it so he never speaks again.”
“No,” Lincoln bites out, his voice a dark, dangerous command that pulls me up short. “I’m going.”
“No!” Scarlett cries out. “Absolutely not, Linc! This is my problem. It’s my drama. You stay here with Nova. Ask her to marry you already. Get on with your life.”
While Nova’s eyes flare with panic, Lincoln’s merely dance with mirth. “I’ll do what I’m gonna do in my own time, but thanks for your concern. Until then, maybe you could shut up long enough to let me tell you about the road trip the three of us are going on.”
“The three of who?” I point to him and Nova, then to Scarlett. “You three?”
“Nova and I made our promises.” He pulls her closer against his side. “Where I go, she goes. I’m not leaving Scarlett here alone, and I don’t expect Jones to make noise for much longer anyway. So yeah, us three.”
“Dumb shit plan,” I settle back onto my stool and stake my place within this conversation. Again. “You don’t take a mark toward the threat, stupid. Is this your first day on the job?”
“I’m not leaving her here alone.” Lincoln’s jaw flexes with barely concealed rage. “I’m not leaving Nova behind to keep her company. And I can’t ask a cop to execute a man in cold blood if convincing him to let this go doesn’t work out.”
“Hate to break it to you, bitch, but you ain’t taking Nova anywhere without me.”
He pulls away from her and stalks my way, his chest swelling with adrenaline and his bad attitude bubbling to the surface.
Just like I knew it would.
Just like his sister’s does when she’s angry.
Castros have trigger tempers.
“On what fuckin’ planet do you think you get to say where Nova goes?”
“This fuckin’ planet. She’s my code keeper, and I already told you I’m wherever she is until I feel good about her memorizing numbers she had no business memorizing. That makes her my mark, and I know you’re smart enough to understand I’m sticking like Velcro.”
“You don’t decide where she goes!”
“I didn’t. I’m deciding where I go. You wanna put her on a plane to Colorado? My ass is gonna be sitting right beside her. Be sure to book business class, bitch. Those cheap ass seats in the back are way too small for a man of my size.”
“Jameson—”
“But I still say taking Jones’ mark right to his doorstep is rookie shit. Those of us with a brain know not to keep keys and locks together.”
“So what do you propose I do?” he booms. “Tie her to a tree and hope she’s still here when we get back?”
“Naw.” Check. And mate. “You want me to back off of Nova? To trust you while she’s out of my sight?” I bring my eyes around to a terrified Scarlett and counter her fear with a taunting smirk. “I’ll accept a clean trade.”
Her cheeks drain impossibly pale.
“Nova for Scarlett. That’s keeping the key from the lock, she’ll be safe right here with me, and since I know you’ll want her back…” I bring my smiling gaze back to a not smiling Lincoln. “I figure you’ll conduct yourself accordingly with my code keeper over there.”
Yeah.
No.
Castro doesn’t like that.
“Listen here, motherfucker!”