by B. B. Hamel
My heart raced as I tried to think of a way to get out of this without making a scene. His fingers dug into my shoulders and I had the sudden urge to knee him in the crotch. I knew it would work, since the guy was too drunk to block me, but he’d probably shout or yell or something, and I knew we couldn’t afford that sort of attention.
He pressed closer as I struggled. “I’m sorry, Senator, please. I need to go find my husband, and I’m sure your wife is looking for you.”
“Don’t you worry about my wife,” he murmured, coming close, pushing me back toward the wall. I hit it with a thump and a painting of a boat on a stormy ocean rattled in its frame. “She’s somewhere. I’m Senator Lee, didn’t I mention that? You’re a pretty little thing.”
I clenched my jaw. I knew I’d have to hit him in a second, but I didn’t want to. I struggled again, tried to slip his grip—“You’re hurting me,” I said, but that didn’t seem to register—and looked around wildly for someone to help.
The bastard leaned down to press his lips against my bare chest with a hand appeared on his shoulder. I let out a gasp as he was yanked backwards. His fingers still dug into my shoulders, but they were torn away as he was spun around.
Reid stood there, his eyes wide with hate. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled.
“Who are you, you little shit? I was trying to get to know this young lady right here, and—”
Reid cocked his fist back and slammed it into Senator Lee’s face. I gasped, hands flying to my face, as the senator’s face snapped back and blood spurted from his nose. He gave a single grunt as he dropped to the floor in a drunken heap. Reid stood over him and I had to step up and grab his arm before he could do more.
“Stop,” I hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I saw that bastard,” he said, eyes wide with rage. “He was touching you.”
“He’s drunk.” I pulled him. “Come on. We have to go.”
For a split second, I thought he’d do something worse. He looked like he wanted to murder the senator right then and there, wanted to kick the man until he stopped moving completely, and there was some horrible part of me that wanted to see it. Instead, he let out a frustrated, angry growl and let me pull him away.
“No violence, remember?” I said. “I was going to handle that myself.”
“That motherfucker. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Before we reached the main room again, he dropped and pulled me back toward him.
I stumbled in my heels and let him wrap his arms around me. “I’m fine,” I said, looking up into his concerned eyes. “Really, he didn’t do anything.” Though the ghost of his fingertips still lingered in my shoulders.
I knew he wanted to do more. I could see him wrestling with the idea. I reached up and touched his face and put on the best smile I could before standing up tall and tilting my chin up toward him.
He kissed me then. I knew it’d be a good distraction for him—but didn’t realize how badly I wanted it. We held that kiss for several seconds before I relaxed and pulled away.
“Come on,” I said, taking his hand. “Let’s go before the senator wakes up.”
“State senator,” he said. “The fat fuck.”
I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my lips as I pulled him back through the party. We got some looks, but I didn’t think anyone knew what happened, and I had a feeling Senator Lee wouldn’t be talking about it anytime soon, not if he didn’t want his wife to find out.
We stepped out into the cool night and Reid got his car back from the valet. He got inside and I squeezed into the passenger side. He leaned across the center console and kissed my neck, sending a shiver down my spine, before pulling out and leaving that house behind us.
13
Reid
I got up early and hit the streets the next morning, thoughts of Cora in that tiny little dress still playing through my mind. I wanted to peel her bare when we got home—but she ditched me and disappeared into her room instead. I think I pissed her off when I knocked out that fat state senator asshole, but he was drunk and he more than deserved what he got.
Enrico was waiting for me at a coffee spot on Passyunk Avenue. He slid a white enameled cup across the table toward me and I took a sip as he looked around, one arm slung over the back of the booth.
“I got news,” he said.
“Yeah? Better be good. I’m sick of bad news.” The coffee was strong and had a strange berry aftertaste—I made a mental note to come back to this place, even though it was the kind of hipster spot where they drew flowers in the lattes and everything had an industrial wood-and-metal vibe.
“I think you’ll like this.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward me. “I think I know where Jarvis has been.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? You don’t sound too sure.”
“It’s not perfect, but a guy I know spotted him a few times at this bar out near the river.”
“Spotted him at a bar.” I stared at Enrico and shook my head. “That’s not exactly solid.”
“I know, but it’s the best I got right now. Aldrik’s there right now scouting the place out.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the text messages. “Says, and I quote here, ‘this place is a total fucking shithole, so Jarvis definitely comes here.’ That’s the best I got for you right now.”
I grunted and leaned back in my chair. The coffee was good, but the intel wasn’t so great—still, better than nothing. “Text him back. Do they serve food?”
He rubbed his face. “I’m not your fucking hostess.”
“Do it, asshole.”
He typed and waited until Aldrik messaged back. “Yeah. Says it’s a decent menu actually.”
“Good.” I finished the coffee and stood. “I think I’ll have dinner there tonight.”
Enrico smiled, head tilted. “Should me and Aldrik show up as well?”
“If you’re sitting at the bar around eight tonight, I wouldn’t be upset.”
“Okay, great, I hear you.” He hesitated. “Uh, just to be clear, you mean you want us to show up at eight, right?”
I sighed and shook my head. “Jesus, you’re an asshole. Yes, Enrico, be there at eight. Sit at the bar, don’t be obvious.”
“Got it, right, will do, boss.”
“And don’t come up to me if you see me there. Cora won’t know.”
“You’re bringing the girl?”
I nodded and turned away toward the entrance. An older man in a stained denim shirt came through, his beard bushy and graying—he could’ve been a rich artist or homeless, it was hard to tell sometimes.
“Good cover. You got your orders.” I left the coffee place and drove around the city for a while, running through plans and contingencies in my head.
Barnacled Rooster truly was a piece of shit like Aldrik said, but it was packed when I parked out front. It was in a quiet neighborhood right off Delaware Avenue, within spitting distance of the river. Cora slipped her hand through my arm as we walked toward the place, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a matching dark sweater, and I wished we were going somewhere a little bit fancier so I could’ve seen her in one of those dresses.
Still, I liked that she was comfortable with me—she didn’t hesitate to take my arm, and she didn’t seem to think it was strange to hang on me like that, even if she was still quick to remind me that our marriage was a goddamn sham.
“Nice place,” she said as we went inside. The floor was sticky, the tables were peeling, and the place was packed with drunk and loud local guys. I guessed it was a working class bar, probably for dock men or some shit like that.
“You had something better to do tonight?”
“Nope, guess not.”
I spotted a table toward the back and grabbed it, figuring there was an open seating policy. Sure enough, a waitress appeared a few minute later with menus, took our drink orders, and hustled off to help another table.
“How’d you hear about this place?” she ask
ed.
“Aldrik recommended it.”
She laughed. “Since when did you listen to him?”
“The man’s got great taste.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Fair enough, but don’t let his looks deceive you. He may look like a Miami pimp, but he has the soul of a poet.”
She rolled her eyes but I could tell she was relaxed already and having a good time. We fell into an easy rhythm, a comfortable conversation, that only got better as the drinks flowed.
I spotted Enrico and Aldrik at the bar ten minutes after we sat down. They took stools at the far end, blocked from our line of sight by a group of big, loud women in what I could only assume were very bad blonde wigs. Cora told me a story about almost getting arrested when she was a teenager while spraying graffiti on a dumpster.
“It was mostly Alex’s idea,” she said.
“Alex?” I tilted my head.
“He was, uh— he was a good friend of mine.”
“Not anymore?”
She looked down at her hands. “Not anymore.”
I could tell it was a sore subject, so I didn’t push. “What happened with the cops?”
She perked up a bit. “Well, he has this idea—”
“Was this a boyfriend?”
“No,” she said, “and stop interrupting.”
“Sorry, go ahead.”
“As I was saying, he had this idea to spray-paint some dumpsters to work on his tag, you know?”
“Tag, as in, his graffiti tag?”
“Yes,” she said, sipping her wine. “Alex liked to imagine he was a gangster.”
I snorted. “Was he?”
“Not at all.”
I nodded a little and let my eyes roam the room. I knew the type of guy Cora was talking about—loud, a little pathetic, a little needy. Those kinds of guys want to be made, want to be in a crew so badly it stinks, and they’re hard to get rid of when they start to cling on like barnacles. I was surprised she was friends with a guy like that, but wasn’t surprised their friendship didn’t last. He probably got sucked into some minor crew and went the way of all wannabe gangsters: drugs, violence, petty crime.
“I’m guessing things didn’t go well.”
“Honestly, they should have. We picked a good spot, you know? Nice and dark, a quiet street, nothing around. He uncapped his can, stepped up to the dumpster, pressed the spray button a single time—and then a cop stepped around the corner and shone a flashlight at us.”
I laughed and sipped my drink. “Was he waiting or something?”
“In retrospect, I think someone called him out there. It was a quiet block, you know, and we stood outside looking suspicious as hell for like fifteen minutes before he worked up the nerve to actually do anything.”
I shook my head, grinning. “I guess you got away.”
“He chased us for a little bit and I thought Alex might pass out and die when we finally stopped, but we got away. It was a lot of fun though.” Her smile faded a little bit then she took a long sip from her wine. I watched her happy expression turn sour, and I had no clue why—it was a good story, a little goofy, lighthearted, but fun. She glowered down at her drink, and I was about to press her a little bit, figuring it was something about this Alex guy that got her down, when the door opened.
And Jarvis walked through followed by two of his guys.
I sucked in a breath and leaned down in my seat. He was across the room, closer to Aldrik and Enrico, and for one horrible second I thought he might spot me or recognize them, but neither happened. Instead, he walked to the other end of the bar, shoved himself in between two older couples eating dinner, and impatiently tapped on the bar until he got drinks for himself and his friends.
He was right there. My heart began beating faster and I could feel the blood in my ears. I remembered him standing in the street, firing his weapon at me, trying his hardest to end my life—and worse, trying to murder Cora. I felt the rage build, and I wasn’t sure what I would do. He was so close, so fucking close, but we were surrounded by civilians and I didn’t think I could kill him without any collateral damage.
But maybe, if we waited and got lucky, we might be able to catch him on the way out.
“Reid?”
I blinked and looked back at Cora. “Yeah. Sorry. What did you say?”
She tilted her head, studying my face. “You look upset.”
“It’s nothing.”
“That’s not true. What’s going on?”
I sucked in a breath, struggling with my decisions. I could get Enrico and Aldrik to wait outside, and I could stay in here—but I had Cora with me, damn it. I didn’t really expect Jarvis to show up, and I figured I’d use Cora as an excuse in case anyone that knew me happened to be around. Easier to explain why I might be there if I had my pretty wife at the table—we just popped in for dinner, instead of waiting around to murder someone.
“It’s nothing.” I forced myself to meet her gaze and drank my whiskey to cover myself. “It’s fine. Really.”
She narrowed her eyes and her gaze swept the room. She didn’t speak and I reached out impulsively, grabbing at her hand. She seemed surprised and her eyes came back to me, and I knew I had seconds to come clean before she spotted Jarvis.
“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this,” I said, my voice soft. “I didn’t think he’d be here.”
Confused, she pulled her hand back. “Reid, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Jarvis is here.”
She opened her mouth and stared at me. I saw the panic start to overtake her.
“Jarvis. Is here. Right now?”
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to be soothing. “Enrico and Aldrik are at the bar.”
“They’re what?” Anger pushed back the panic in her expression as she leaned toward me. “You brought those two here?”
I had to come clean. I couldn’t bullshit her, not now, she didn’t deserve that. I didn’t want her to have another panic attack if I could avoid it, for her sake as much as for mine.
“There was a possibility that Jarvis would show up. We heard he came here recently, but I didn’t know—I didn’t think he’d actually be here tonight. I wanted to scout it out and I brought you along as cover.”
“But he’s here.” She looked around, her face ashen and pale, but she wasn’t shaking and she seemed in control. “Oh my god. I see him.”
“Don’t stare. Hey, don’t stare. Look back at me.” Her eyes drifted and met mine. “Take a deep breath. We’re safe in here.”
“He tried to kill us in the middle of the street.”
“And I’m going to kill him in the middle of this bar.” I felt myself make up my mind. I couldn’t wait, and although it was a huge risk to try to do it right here in front of fifty witnesses, I couldn’t care about that. I needed to end this petty fight and eliminate a danger to myself and to my wife.
“No.” Her voice was harsh as she leaned toward me. “You can’t do that.”
I frowned in surprise. “Why?”
“No violence. Remember? That’s the whole point. Vince would flip. Hedeon would be pissed.”
“Fuck them.” I leaned toward her and struggled to keep my voice steady and quiet. “He hurt you. He almost killed you. That’s enough for me.”
“Stop it.” She hissed the words. “You’re not doing this now.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do then, just let him go?”
“No.” She chewed her lip and stared at the table. Then her eyes snapped up. “Have Enrico and Aldrik follow him.”
“They might fuck it up if they try the hit on their own.”
She shook her head. “No, not to kill him. Have them follow him home.”
I opened my mouth then shut it again.
Jarvis had to live somewhere. He went to ground, but he wasn’t a man with means. He didn’t have money for a lot of safehouses or hotels—there was no doubt in my mind that he was staying in one place. All I had to
do was find that place and I’d have him.
“That might work,” I said slowly, hating myself for it, but she was right. If I could avoid killing him in public, I should at least try it. “But taking him right here and now would be a sure thing.”
She sucked in a breath then reached out across the table. I looked at her hand as she slipped her fingers through mine and held on tight.
“Please, Reid.” I felt a chill at the tone in her voice. “I don’t… I don’t want you to get hurt, or to go to jail, or— I don’t know, any million things that could go wrong right now.”
I clenched my jaw as I felt the warmth of her hand against mine. I hated that I was rethinking this, but the look in her eye, the feeling of her hand, I didn’t want to let her down and fuck things up, or mistakenly hurt her in the crossfire.
“All right,” I said, letting out a breath. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before he spots us.”
“What about the other two?”
“I’ll tell them what to do.”
She nodded and released my hand. I took a couple fresh hundreds from my wallet and dropped them on the table. She gave me an uncertain look as we walked back across the room together, and for a moment I thought I felt eyes on me, eyes all over the place, but when I looked back over the room when we reached the exit, lingering there near the door for half a second, I saw Jarvis was too busy laughing at something one of his guys said to notice me.
Cora left and I followed. In the parking lot, I sent a message to Enrico: Follow him home. Don’t approach. Don’t get caught. Report back.
He responded a few seconds later.
Roger that, boss. We’ll keep our distance and watch him.
Cora watched me as we got into the car and I started the engine. She reached out and touched my face, and I turned to her, body boiling with something—with need, with anger. I pulled her toward me and kissed her, pulling her across the center console, making her straddle me. I grabbed her hips and pushed her down against my half-hard cock, and felt the warmth between her legs as I bit her lower lip, pulled her hair, kissed her with all my pent-up desire, rage, and need. She moaned into that kiss, rolled her hips— then pulled away before I could take things further.