Pros & Cons of Vengeance

by Wasp, A. E.

  Angel-Face burst out laughing, and even Mr. Anonymous was trying to hold back a smile.

  “Aw, Angel-Face, not you, too?” I put my hand over my heart. “I’m crushed.” I sucked down the last of my iced tea, wondering if Charlie had been kind enough to buy some whiskey before he died.

  Fucking Charlie. This was all his fault. I’d had one run-in with the guy, done one job with him years ago. When I’d been ordered to shoot him by the woman we’d both assumed was on his side, I’d made the split-second decision to hesitate just long enough for him to get away. I didn’t like double-crossers. And this was the thanks I got for doing the right thing.

  I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Let’s be real, I knew exactly what Charlie was blackmailing me with. If it got out, it would be bad not just for me and Uncle Sam, but for the men I’d served with. I’d long ago come to terms with the things I had done, and Uncle Sam could fuck off for all I cared, but I’d die before I’d let my men pay for my crimes. No exaggeration. We’d put our lives on the line for each other more than once, and I would have done it again in a heartbeat.

  Miranda cleared her throat. “As I was saying, I think it’s time for introductions.”

  “Why don’t you let Mr. Fed do it?” I said. “Looks like he’s got all the info anyway.”

  “It’s Mr. Special Agent, to you, Alvarez. As in, Special Agent Leo Shook, FBI. Which means I could arrest you right here, right now.”

  I knew he was a Fed. Totally called it.

  “Agent Shook,” Miranda said. “As you are officially on administrative leave from the Bureau, I doubt that’s true.”

  Now Wesley pointed at Special Agent Shook and laughed. “Oooh, burn again!”

  Shook turned to him. “Who the fuck are you?” Shook said. “No, wait. I can figure this out. I can figure all of you out.”

  He pointed at me first. “Castille Alvarez. Also goes by Steele. Nice name, by the way. Very manly and original. Professional bodyguard and sometime hit man. Usually works for the bad guys, presumably because they have more money.”

  Hit man? Not fucking likely. I jumped up from my chair. “Twice,” I said, holding out two fingers for emphasis. “I’ve killed two people in this job, and both times they were going to kill me first.”

  “On this job?” Mr. Anonymous said from his chair in the corner. He looked like the kind of guy who always found the dark shadowy corners to sit in, but his voice when he spoke was high-class and cultured, tinged with a la-di-dah British accent that made him sound like he had marbles in his mouth. “Have you killed in your previous positions? At least one of which was military, no?”

  “Oh, he’s got military written all over him,” Angel-Face said.

  “What is your name?” I blurted out. “I can’t keep calling you Angel-Face in my head.”

  “Sure you can.” He pushed his blond curls off his forehead and gave me a big smile. “You can call me whatever you want.”

  Great, now he was trying to flirt? I knew deflection when I saw it.

  Special Agent Shook narrowed his eyes at the kid. “Angel-Face’s name is Ridge Pfeiffer. He’s a professional thief. Mostly small-time stuff so far, but he’s got ambitions.” He tilted his head at the man I’d dubbed Mr. Anonymous. “The guy in the corner trying to not be noticed is Carson Grieves, champion grifter and con artist. Implicated in a thousand and one crimes. Both as slippery as the Teflon Don, so we can’t make a bust stick. How about you?” he asked Wesley, thrusting his chin at the kid. “What’s your role in this farce?”

  “Farce?” I asked.

  “Sham? Mockery?” Carson suggested. He had the same snooty accent all the bad guys in Dr. Who had, as if everything was vaguely amusing.

  “Sounds better when he says it,” Wesley said.

  “Everything sounds better in a British accent,” Ridge added. “It’s a well-known fact. Just like a southern accent can lower your perceived I.Q. at least ten points.”

  “Bless your heart,” I said as I gave him the finger. My mama raised me to be polite.

  “I’m Don Juan Zero Juan Juan. People call me Zero.” He grinned, making him look even more like a teenager who’d snuck into the grownups’ meeting.

  “No, you’re not,” Shook said, looking visibly, well, shook. His right hand reached for handcuffs that weren’t there.

  Wesley leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of couch. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just fucking with you.”

  Shook’s body was still coiled as if he were going to leap up and tackle Wesley to the ground. I had a feeling I didn’t know Wes’s real story. I guess it was kind of foolish of me to assume I did.

  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t turn you in right now, Zero?” Shook said.

  “Nobody is turning anyone in,” Miranda said sharply, cutting off Wesley’s response. “Unless it’s me. Remember that you’re all here for roughly the same reason.”

  “I want to know who else is involved in this,” Shook demanded. “Who are you working for, Ms. Bosley? Who’s paying your bills? And how did Charlie Bingham die?”

  Miranda smiled so evilly, a lesser man would have shit his pants. “The beauty of holding the cards, Special Agent Shook, is that I don’t answer to you. Do the jobs Charlie has left for each of you, and you’ll never have to see me, or each other, again.”

  “Works for me,” I said. “Just tell me what I have to do, point me in the right direction, and I’ll do it.”

  “I agree,” Ridge said. “How fast can we get this shit done? I have things to do, places to be.”

  “Things to steal,” Wesley said with a smile.

  Miranda ignored the interruptions. “As you all know from the letters I sent you, Charlie’s will left instructions concerning each of you gentlemen.” She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, pausing between each sentence. “You’ve each had a connection with him in the past, and he is counting on your shared histories to...encourage...you to help him accomplish some tasks he was unable to get to before his unfortunate early demise.”

  “You mean he’s blackmailing all of us from beyond the grave to do his dirty work,” Wesley said, crossing his legs underneath him. “And if we do what he wants, you’ll give us whatever shit you have on us and we go on our merry way.”

  “Correct.” She tapped her finger on the desktop, as though deciding how much to say. “Charlie was a master of information. He bought it, sold it, stole it, and leveraged it. He wasn’t a model citizen from a law enforcement point of view.” She gave The Fed an ironic glance. “But more often than not, he tried to be a decent person. Much of the sensitive information he collected, he never used. And some of the information, he tried to use for good. That made him some powerful enemies. If you want to know why Charlie’s no longer with us, Agent Shook, that’s your answer. Because he made enemies of the wrong people.”

  “Who?” Shook demanded. It sounded like he was ready to throw on some armor and ride out to avenge Charlie’s death.

  “That’s not your concern,” Miranda said softly. “At least not right now.”

  “But…”

  “Charlie knew how many Naughty Lists he’d landed himself on,” she continued, ignoring Agent Shook. By the look on his face, the agent didn’t like being ignored. “He didn’t know exactly how the end would come, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid it. Not this time. So he decided to bequeath you all, collectively, some of his most sensitive information. The tasks he left undone. The wrongs he wanted to right. And in exchange, you’ll each get back the sensitive information he had on you.”

  She spread her hands flat on the desk. “These aren’t jobs that any one person can do. They require a team of people with specialized skill sets, skills he felt the five of you possessed, as a whole. You will need to work and live together to complete them.”

  “Live together?” Shook looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. Probably thought he was too good for us. But he was here with us, and he wasn’t storming out, wh
ich confirmed for me that there were some skeletons in his closet.

  “Yes, Agent Shook. Charlie felt it would be the best way not only to ensure your compliance but to facilitate a level of bonding, if you will, between you gentlemen.”

  Angel-Face... Ridge Pfeiffer, I corrected myself. His name was Ridge Pfeiffer… snorted loudly. I agreed with him. The chances of this group getting together and braiding each other’s hair were close to zero. I gave the whole thing about three days if we all had to live in the same space.

  Personally, I didn’t mind living on the coast. It’s not like I had a permanent place at the moment anyway, and this house was a lot nicer than most of the places I’d stayed. I could use a few more changes of clothes, though, and some other things I’d left behind on what I thought would be a quick overnight. Like my SUV. “What about our stuff?” I asked Miranda. “I’ve got some lucky underwear I left back in Georgia.”

  “We have people on standby waiting to transport your belongings here immediately, should you choose to stay.”

  “Not like we have much of a choice,” Ridge said bitterly, speaking my thoughts. It seemed this whole thing was a done deal. Why were we acting like we could say no? We were trapped. I didn’t think that was conducive to bonding either.

  “There are always choices, Mr. Pfeiffer, as well as consequences for every choice.” Miranda frowned slightly, her lips tightening.

  Shook’s scowl deepened.

  “I think you will find that living here has many advantages,” Miranda continued. “You have all of Charlie's resources at your disposal. This house, his cars, his private plane, all of his computer equipment. You’ll have access to me, as well as a few other people Charlie trusted to assist you with these jobs. Whatever you don't have, you can acquire."

  She reached into the large manila envelope she held on her lap, pulling out a stack of plastic cards. “Find the one with your name on it and pass them on,” she ordered, passing out AmEx Black cards like they were Halloween candy.

  I turned mine over in my hands. “Damn, never thought I’d see my name on something like this.”

  “No shit,” Ridge agreed. “And for a good reason. Won’t we be leaving a trail a blind man could follow if we use these? Shouldn’t we be more, I don’t know, circumspect?”

  Wesley, Mr. Carson Anonymous, and The Fed all shook their heads.

  “No point,” Wesley said first. “Privacy is no more than an illusion now. I don’t need credit cards to track you. I could trace you across the world even if you paid cash for everything and used a fake name, especially if you have a phone. I can use gravity, or LED lights in a store. I could even piggy back on the fucking Muzak playing over the speakers. If your phone’s on and you’re not on the Space Station, I can find you.” He smirked at Agent Shook. “If I did that kind of thing, which, of course, I would never.”

  “Right,” Shook said, voice flat.

  “That’s fucking terrifying,” I said. And it also made it clear just how hard it was to physically steal shit in this day and age. Law enforcement could track a thief like Ridge just as easily as Wes could track a mark.

  “Damn, Angel-Face,” I told him. “If Agent Shook hasn’t caught you, you must be really, really good.”

  He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at me in answer, a silent you think?

  “Old-school robbery,” Wes said. “I dig it. Very retro.” Then he stared at the ceiling, his lips moving silently and his eyebrows raising and lowering as if he were arguing with himself. "I’ll need all my computer equipment, including the router and the servers. Even the cables, and the land-line phones. I’ll also need to check out Charlie’s system."

  Seemed like overkill to me. A computer was a computer. "Come on, Wes. There's gotta be a Best Buy near here. We have Black cards, we can get you all new stuff, the best money can—"

  "Best Buy? Are you... are you trying to insult me? Would you tell Ridge to get his climbing rope from Walmart? Or tell Carson to get his fancy suits at Target? Do you have any idea how much my set up is worth, Steele? Tens of thousands of dollars. All of it custom-built, by me, to my own specifications, over a period of years, so that it can do exactly what I need it to, every single time!” Wes’s eyes were wide, and he was practically panting. “I said I need my fucking stuff, and I need my fucking stuff."

  “Down, killer,” I said. “You want your stuff, we’ll get your stuff.”

  “Everything you need will be provided, including any specialized equipment you have at your residences. If we could move this along, gentlemen,” Miranda sighed. “I have several more appointments today.”

  “No rest for the wicked,” I told her, wiggling my eyebrows.

  She smirked. “As you’re about to find out.” To my surprise, the Dragon Lady grabbed an envelope from her briefcase and handed it to me. “You’re running point on the first assignment.”

  I reached forward slowly, it as if might bite. I felt like the winner of a game show I hadn’t wanted to play.

  “Five assignments, five envelopes,” Miranda announced. “And each of you will take the lead on one.”

  “Was that Charlie’s instruction, too?” Agent Shook asked caustically.

  “Nope. Mine.” Miranda gave him a satisfied smile. “In my experience, criminals are like preschoolers, and the sooner you all learn to share the sandbox, the better for all of us.”

  “Should I open it?” I asked Miranda.

  She inclined her head gracefully, but I hesitated. If the envelope contained copies of shit Charlie had on me, I sure was fuck not opening it here and now. I didn’t trust these guys as far as I could throw them. Not that I had anything to hide, but other people would get hurt if certain things were revealed. I flipped the coin along the back of my knuckles, over and under, while I weighed the possibilities.

  The woman seemed to read my mind. “The information in the envelope is solely about the case we need you to take on,” she assured me. “The rest of your information will remain private unless you choose to divulge it.” She looked at the others. “And that goes for all of you.”

  Miranda stood up and fastened the clasps on her briefcase. “There are rooms on the second floor for each of you to choose from. If you have any logistical questions about the house or your belongings, Josie will be here. Otherwise, I expect you’ll all know what to do.” She gave each of us a last look. “Good luck, gentlemen. Charlie had faith in you, and for what it’s worth, I do too.”

  I made the coin disappear into my palm, then slid it back into my pocket. Slitting open the manila envelope, I reached in and pulled out a stack of photos. Wesley leaned over to see and whistled in appreciation.

  Holy fuck. Looked like three men getting it on. These were some hot pics, if you ignored the old guy in the middle, which was easy enough to do considering his face wasn’t visible. But the two other guys? Damn. One had brown hair and killer abs, but the other had fair hair and the most incredible ass I’d ever seen. Lucky geezer. He had to be paying for it.

  Wait a second. I held the pictures closer to my face and looked back and forth between the blond in the picture and Ridge. It was hard to be sure with all that distracting naked skin and those two bitable asses, but I thought I’d figured out what Charlie was blackmailing our thief with.

  I slid the pictures back in the envelope and reached across the space to hand it to Ridge. “Hey Angel-Face, is there anything you want to share with the class? Perhaps some alternative revenue streams you’ve failed to divulge?”

  Ridge took the envelope, looking at it as if it were filled with dog shit, and removed the pictures.

  In his case, it might as well be dog shit.

  “It’s pics of a john with a couple of rent boys,” I explained to Carson and the Fed, neither of whom had moved from their spots. “I have no idea who the client is, but there’s a blond hooker with a truly delectable bubble-butt who’s a dead-ringer for Angel-Face here.”

  Ridge shuffled through the photos once, twice, his exp
ression set in stone. He pulled one out for closer inspection. A look of pain flashed across his gorgeous face, and I knew no matter what this case was about, I’d be helping him. I was a sucker for a gorgeous guy in distress.

  “Well?” Wesley asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

  Ridge handed the photos back, his jaw set hard. “That isn’t me in those photos,” he said. “It’s my twin brother, Breck.”

  2 Breck

  My phone ringing woke me at the ass crack of dawn.

  Okay, fine, technically it was the middle of the morning, but I’d always been more of a moonflower than a morning glory, so same difference.

  I’d been stuck in the shittiest dream, one where I’d been drowning in freezing cold water and shivering so hard my teeth chattered. Only when Britney’s Work Bitch started blaring had my subconscious finally clued in to the fact that it was a nightmare, and I’d shot back to the subarctic reality of my borrowed Dupont Circle apartment to find my phone ringing beneath my cheek.

  I didn’t expect much from life, or even death, but I’d be damned if I switched off to dance music.

  “What?” I demanded into the phone as the dream receded and my heart rate slowed. I cracked open one eye, saw retina-searing rays of sunlight peeking around the edges of my blackout curtains, and quickly shut it again.

  “Have I got news for you!”

  Jesus. Emilio. Literally one of my least favorite people on the planet, and considering the people I’d been associating with recently, that said something.

  Both of my eyes popped open and I stared at the ceiling, cursing myself and my bad habit of answering the phone without checking to see who was calling. Now I would be stuck for ten minutes listening to Emilio’s catty gossip as punishment.

  Way to fail Phone Skills 101, dumbass.

  I figured most people’s internal voices sounded exactly like themselves, only bitchier. But for better or for worse, mine sounded exactly like my twin brother. Ridge was identical to me in every way, except that he was a control freak with no filter who liked to call me dumbass. Still, I loved him more than anyone else on the planet. This made my internal voice comforting and annoying all at once, just like Ridge.