Chapter 8 #2
“What’s going on, Decker?” A flash of fear widened Krew’s eyes.
“Like I said, don’t move unless I call your name, and if I do, drop under the table. No hesitation. Understand, K?”
He went rigid, then gave me a barely perceptible nod of understanding. I slid out of the booth, stood, and took three steps toward the hitmen, blocking their sight of Krew.
I stared down the two men for a good thirty seconds before shifting my eyes to an empty table near the door.
They understood immediately what I wanted.
They each took a seat. Jay planted his skinny ass in the booth that faced the back of the diner—kiddy-corner from me.
The other sat in a chair that partially faced the entrance.
The only other people I wondered about were the waitress and the cook. They had to have heard the door chimes. So why didn’t the waitress come out from the back? Was that Jay’s doing? I decided not to worry about it.
I grabbed a chair from the adjacent table, turned it around, and sat in full view of both men, all the while keeping an ear on Krew. With my Ruger still in my hoodie pocket, I rolled my shoulders and peered at Jay and his friend.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Jay. I did a job with him three years ago that involved the Columbian cartel. I saved his ass when they tried to separate his head from his body with a machete. Saving his life had created a bit of a bond between us—or what passed as one.
“The word is out that someone took the prize for Kane Maxwell,” he said before sliding a glance over to the guy I didn’t know.
“Who’s that?” I also looked over to the other hitman, who appeared to be an anxious mess, or just hopped up on something. I assumed the latter. His right leg bounced like a jack hammer and the pointer finger and thumb on his right hand kept flicking together.
Is that his trigger finger?
He blew a piece of his greasy, blue-black hair away from his cold, lifeless, dark eyes. They reminded me of obsidian. Fathomless. Deadly. And they were centered on me.
From the way he kept shifting his rangy build in the seat, he was a tweaker, and even more unpredictable and dangerous.
Then the asshole honed in on Krew, and I wasn’t having it. “Keep your eyes on me,” I growled before turning back to Jay. “What are you doing here and who the hell is this guy?” I tipped my head toward the fucker.
“Don’t worry about me.” The cunt chuckled like he had made a funny. But all I saw was a dangerous clown with a twitchy itchy finger.
His unblinking scrutiny would have been unnerving to the average person. To me? I took him in, and glared right back like I was impenetrable.
“This is Frankie,” Jay said, his thumb jerking toward his friend—if one could call him that. In our world, there was only a thin, fractured line between an enemy and a friend.
Ignoring the tweaker, I refocused on Jay. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“The word is that you killed Kane.” Jay smiled.
“Why does it matter?” Not wanting to fully commit to the deed, I deflected. “For all I know, it could have been you.”
“No, man. I’m a good shot, but that was way out of my league, especially with that many eyes on the target.” Jay shook his head. “I know only two men who have the balls and the talent. And one of them is vapor.”
He meant Merrick, but I didn’t react or say his name.
My eyes slid to Frankie, who slowly pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his front shirt pocket, smacked the bottom of the pack with the palm of his other hand and then ripped the top open.
Christ, I could use a smoke right about now .
After Frankie took a cigarette out, he placed it between his yellowed teeth, lit it and took a long drag. He then pointed to my crotch. “Big brass balls you have there,” Frankie taunted, his gravelly voice full of vinegar. Tendrils of smoke filtered out of his nostrils and mouth.
“Man, I don’t have time for a social visit.” I didn’t want to waste my breath on these fuckers. The way Frankie kept looking toward Krew… Suddenly everything clicked into place. This was a hit. I knew deep in my gut. But who was the target?
Shit .
I was so caught up on hanging with Krew, that I let these pieces of shit infiltrate the space. No matter, Krew was walking out of here alive. Me? I’d take my chances. Only I’d kill these assholes first before I bit the dust.
“Jay?” I asked as casually as I could muster while shifting my feet slightly apart, so I didn’t rouse suspicions that I was ready to reach for my nine.
“Sorry, Moss,” Jay said evenly, also shifting in his seat. It was a small tell—enough to cause my trigger finger to twitch. In our line of work, reading body language could mean the difference between life and death.
“For what?” I asked, as my eyes bounced between Frankie and Jay.
“We shouldn’t have come in here.” Jay kept his palms up—he was here to talk. But Frankie was way too fidgety for my liking.
“Then leave.”
“No, man. We came here for the food,” Frankie said with a fake, wide smile, his hands were palms down. He was ready to strike.
Two can play at this game, motherfucker.
“Then why ask about Kane?” I casually moved my right hand to the table, adjusting my position again, so I could also reach for my gun.
“Just curious.” Jay shrugged. Another tell. Something big was happening, but he wasn’t saying. Yet.
“You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat,” I replied, my eyes staying on Frankie.
“Who’s your friend?” Frankie pointed the cigarette at Krew.
“He’s none of your business.” Then I said to Jay, “I suggest you find another place to eat.”
“Oh, come on.” Frankie stood nonchalantly, lit cigarette back in his mouth, and I went on high alert. He took one last drag before squashing it on the Formica tabletop. With a wild gleam in his eyes, his smile—all teeth like the Cheshire cat, and held his arms out wide. “We can all be friends.”
In the split second before Frankie took a step toward me, I knew how this was going down. “Krew,” I shouted.
Frankie yanked a Desert Eagle from behind him and aimed it at me. I simultaneously moved, my nine pointed at him.
“Wait a second,” Jay quickly said. I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, until he looked straight at me. “I didn’t come to start any shit.”
“That asshole pointing the gun at me says otherwise,” I hissed.
“ I’m here to start some shit,” Frankie laughed as he waved the gun in his hand until the semi-automatic pistol was now trained in Krew’s direction. Either Krew hadn’t obeyed my instructions and was still sitting there, or Frankie was bluffing to distract me.
“Shut the fuck up, Frankie,” Jay hissed over his shoulder before turning back to me. “I swear on my dead mother’s grave I didn’t come in here to rumble you.”
My eyes bounced between Jay and that greasy turd with him. “I don’t believe you, Jay,” I said in warning.
I pulled the trigger the same time as Frankie did. My shot went wide; his bullet hit something outside my periphery—that something better not have been my best friend.
I didn’t get a chance to look before I launch myself at Frankie. My sole purpose was to take this bastard down with prejudice.
The asshole was fast, and kicked my Ruger out of my hand, but so was I. With a counter kicked, I knocked the gun out of his grip, before we exchanged blows.
For a moment, he had me pinned. As he cocked back his fist, I punched my arm upward, and my fist landed a solid jab to his throat. He fell backward, choking. I twisted and rolled, shoving him off my legs.
I scrambled to my feet, and saw his Eagle was in reach. I grabbed it, took aim and shot twice—one to Frankie’s chest and the other to his head. I pivoted and trained the gun at Jay. He was pointing his Sig at Frankie, who was face up, his blood was pooling around him on the linoleum.
Fear cut through my focus that Krew had been shot by Jay while Frankie and I brawled. But I didn’t dare look away from Jay, who now trained his gun on me.
“Don’t move,” Jay demanded.
“Do you have a death wish?” I narrowed my eyes on the man.
“No. I came here to warn you, man.”
“ This is your warning?” I growled out my fury.
“No. This asshole liked to play Russian roulette with his life. But not me.” Jay kicked at Frankie’s lifeless body and spat, “Good riddance.”
“Tell me what you want to say and then get gone.” I made no move to lower the gun.
“Your friend over there is marked.” He pointed a finger toward Krew. “A hundred grand in the next twenty-four hours. You saved my ass back in Columbia, so I’m calling us even. I’m going to back out of here and leave. And don’t worry, your boy is alive. I won’t go after what’s yours.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“There’s no reason for me to lie. I owed you a marker, and now we’re done, Moss. He’s safe—Oh, and by the way, there’s one other mark—not sure if you know the bitch,” Jay said without lowering his gun.
“Who’s the other target?” I asked, slowly standing to my full height, keeping Frankie’s Desert Eagle still aimed at Jay’s head.
“Some woman named Regina—I don’t fucking know. I’m sure your handler can find out.”
Behind me, Krew gasped at Regina’s name. I didn’t even blink. “Who called in the hits?” I asked, easing back from Jay.
“Don’t know and don’t give a shit.” Jay pointed the gun at Frankie’s lifeless body for two beats before it was trained back on me. “That’s on you to figure out. Now I’m out of here.” Jay backed his way out of the door, keeping his eyes on me until he was outside.
I inwardly counted to ten, so absorbed on Jay and what he said, I didn’t register Krew standing beside me.
“He was talking about our Regi,” he said unsteadily.
“Yeah,” I admitted without looking at Krew. I continued to watch Jay’s figure melt into the dark, remaining vigilant in case the hitman changed his mind and came after me and mine.
Even though Jay had given me his oath that he wouldn’t go after mine, I didn’t trust the man as far as I could throw him.