4. Jackson
JACKSON
Iease my Aston Martin into a spot between two buildings, darkness cloaking the street except for the occasional flicker of a failing streetlight. My phone buzzes for the fifth time in ten minutes. Cole's name flashes across the screen.
"What now?" The edge in my voice carries through the bluetooth.
"Don't give me attitude, Jackson. This deal needs to happen." Cole's voice holds that controlled calm that means he's already reaching his limit. "Kazimir's being difficult, but his money's good. Very good."
I drum my fingers against the leather steering wheel. "The Russian's a pain in my ass. Three meetings and he still can't make up his mind about the specs."
"Then make up his mind for him. You're not exactly known for taking no for an answer."
"Maybe I should let you handle him then." I loosen my tie, scanning the empty street through my windshield. "Since you're so full of suggestions."
"You're the only one he'll deal with. Says he trusts your judgment." Cole's laugh holds no humor. "Imagine that - someone actually trusting you."
"Fuck off." But there's no heat behind it. Cole's right - I've built my reputation on never failing, on being the guy who gets shit done. Even if it means babysitting a paranoid Russian weapons buyer who changes his mind more often than his expensive suits.
"Just get it done. The commission alone will set you up for months."
I check my watch - 1:47 AM. "I've got this. But next time, send someone else to play nice."
"There won't be a next time if you screw this up." The line goes dead. We both know that I won't screw it up - and he's not getting rid of me. He's just feeling the pressure to finish up with Kazimir.
He really is a pain in the ass.
I step out into the night air, my shoes clicking against wet pavement. The weight of my concealed weapon presses against my ribs - a constant reminder that in this business, negotiations don't always end with handshakes.
Kazimir is already there when I approach, and I hand him the designs I had drawn up. "As requested."
He takes them from me, and I shift back on my heels, dressed down in my pants and shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Easier to move in.
But for some reason, my thoughts shift to Aliyah. To the way I know she eyes my forearms. To that little smirk right before she tries to rattle my cage. I wonder if she's working tomo-
Kazimir's voice cuts through my thoughts. "These specs, they are not what we discussed." He gestures at the papers spread across the hood of his car, his gold rings catching the dim light.
I blink, forcing myself to focus. Damn that woman. "The changes improve the range by thirty percent."
A giggle pierces the night, and I realize he's not even listening to me as he whispers in her ear.
Some blonde in a dress that barely covers anything hangs off Kazimir's arm, her red lips leaving marks on his neck.
He doesn't even try to stop her, too busy watching a group of women click past in heels.
"The price..." He trails off as another set of legs catches his attention.
"Remains the same." I clench my jaw. This deal should have been done an hour ago. "You're getting more for your money."
His date whispers something in his ear and he grins, completely missing my point about the improved targeting system. The same targeting system that would cost him double anywhere else.
"Perhaps we discuss tomorrow?" His accent thickens as the blonde nibbles his earlobe.
I resist the urge to slam my fist into the car hood. Three weeks of negotiations, and this idiot is ready to delay because he can't keep his dick in his pants. But watching him with the girl plants a seed. He's clearly susceptible to... certain forms of persuasion.
Not Janelle - Cole would put a bullet in anyone who looked at his wife wrong. But maybe someone else. Someone who could work an angle without raising suspicion. Someone who already moves in our circles.
"Take the specs and look them over." I nod. "I'll reach out to set up a new meeting."
When I have better weaponry on my side. Cole is going to be pissed, but I'm certain all I need is one of the girls that's used to our business to persuade him. If only I had noticed before.
Kazimir isn't paying attention as I leave, heading around the building to where I left my car. My mind is already running over what was discussed, where I could have improved, and I know there's one problem.
These meetings used to be clockwork - in and out, no distractions. But lately my mind keeps drifting to places it has no business going. To light brown eyes with gold flecks. To sharp comebacks delivered with a devil's smile.
"Get your shit together," I mutter, running a hand over my military-short hair.
The street stretches empty before me, but I can't shake the feeling of being off-balance. I pride myself on control - it's what makes me good at what I do. People fear that about me, the way I can compartmentalize everything into neat boxes. Emotions locked away. Weakness eliminated.
But lately...
My jaw clenches as I round the corner. That waitress keeps slipping into my thoughts at the worst moments. During weapons deals. In the middle of threatening competitors. While cleaning my guns. It's like she's found a crack in my armor and won't stop picking at it.
This is exactly the problem. I'm letting some diner waitress get under my skin.
A woman who clearly has secrets of her own, who plays innocent while watching everything with those calculating eyes.
I've spent years building myself into someone untouchable.
Someone who doesn't get distracted by pretty faces or sharp tongues.
But Aliyah... she's different. And that makes her dangerous.
I walk past my car, needing to clear my head before driving. The night air does nothing to cool my frustration with Kazimir. My shoes click against wet pavement as I round another corner, no real destination in mind.
Most would be stupid to be out this late at night, wandering the city. But I'm the kind of man that makes the streets dangerous - not one to fear what's out there. I just pull out my phone to call Cole, deciding to get this over with, when I hear footsteps. I pause, looking up.
Then I see her.
My steps falter. Every thought evaporates from my mind.
Aliyah stands at the corner of the building I just rounded, her black dress hugging curves that are more pronounced than under those diner uniforms. The hem barely reaches mid-thigh, showing miles of toned legs ending in stilettos that make her usually graceful movements downright sinful.
Her hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders instead of the strict styles she wears at work.
My mouth goes dry.
She hasn't noticed me yet, too busy looking around the building at someone else. It gives me time to drag my eyes down her frame and back up again. Slowly. The dress dips low in the back, revealing smooth skin I want to-
I clench my fists. This is exactly what I don't need right now. But I can't tear my eyes away from the way she moves, all calculated grace as she shifts her weight.
The rational part of my brain screams to walk away. To get back in my car and forget I saw her looking like every dark fantasy I won't admit to having. But my feet stay rooted to the spot as she throws her hair over one shoulder, the movement making that dress ride up another dangerous inch.
What the hell is she doing out at this hour? Dressed like that?
The questions pile up, but coherent thoughts scatter when she stretches forward like she's trying to see something without being caught, arching her back in a way that makes my hands itch to grab her waist and-
I try to stop the thoughts, but it's useless. The sight of her has shot my self-control straight to hell.
So, instead I'm going to get some answers.