With the elevator phone back in its box and their ride creeping toward the ground level, they locked in a gaze. Nothing saying. Nothing doing. Just waiting.
The doors opened, and a pudgy security guard waited for them to exit, hands on hips. “You two okay?”
Yup, definitely cameras in the elevator. Just like the CIA: someone’s always watching.
Cash took her hand in his. “Couldn’t be better.”
***
This may have been a mistake. As mistakes go, it may have been a jumping-off-a-bridge bad idea. The GUNS sign was dead ahead on the right, and Cash braked, turning off the road and into a parking lot with a rusted, charging bison mascot snarling at every truck that dared cross into Sugar’s parking lot. The thing had to be the size of an army tank.
“We’re here.” And so is she. Sugar’s '69 Mustang Boss 429, the same color as the lipstick she wore, sat in her parking spot. The twist in his gut and a flash glance at Nic said this moment was leaning toward colossal catastrophe.
No time to backpedal. Jumping out of his truck, Cash saw the security camera track him. Sugar knew they were there. Nic got out and slammed her door. At least she was down for their Q and A session. A second later, his girl was on his six, and they walked toward the gated-up, locked-down door.
His girl.
She was definitely his girl walking into Sugar’s lair. He’d iron out the semantics later.
Moving from the focus of one security camera to the next, he waved hello at the lens over the door, and a series of locks disengaged mechanically after someone approved their entry.
They walked into the waiting area lined with wall-mounted guns and knives. Glass cases housed a few more beauties.
Sugar’s heels clacked down the hall before they could see her. It was Sugar. Only she could make footsteps sound like the sway of her hips. Her perfume drifted in before she did, and her entrance was nothing short of a sultry explosion.
“Cash, baby.” She ignored Nicola, lasering onto him with lethal accuracy, and wrapped an arm around his back to kiss him hello. “I knew you’d be back soon.”
This was about what he’d pictured. To Nic’s credit, her boot didn’t bounce-bounce-bounce. This was work-Nic. The professional Nicola. Cool and calculating. Nic didn’t flinch at whatever else Sugar babbled about. Probably several variations of, “let’s get into bed. Or drop to the floor.”
Sugar turned to Nicola and shook her head, faux confused. “And what was your name again? Sarah? Julie?”
“It’s Nicola,” Nic said with a touch of bring-it-bitch. “I understand if it’s hard to remember names that aren’t tangible.”
Annnd, the ladies were off and running.
This was everything Rocco probably dreamed of watching in real time. If the ladies were still standing at the end of this visit, he’d give Roc a serious recap.
He stepped a boot between them. “Can we go to your office, Sugar? We have—”
“Baby, you’re the king of the castle for all I’m concerned. Lead the way.”
Cash fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he studied the guns lining the walls. Sugar could build the hell out of a specialty request. The display paid homage to that talent.
If he could focus the ladies on guns and ammo, this convo could stay on the up and up. “Why don’t you lead the way?”
“Not sure that I want Julie, eh, Sally, whoever, running around back there though.” She turned to Nicola. “I can have someone bring you a chair, and we’ll make you comfy right here.”
Cash gave a chuckle, impressed that Nic appeared unfazed, and said, “Not gonna happen like that. The three of us have business.”
“I don’t trust her,” Sugar replied.
No bounce-bounce-bounce shoe taps, but he saw it in Nic’s face. The charge had been set. No telling when she would strike. He needed to diffuse this blowup and get down to the warlord arms dealer business.
One bounce. He heard Nic’s shoe bounce once. Then a bounce, bounce.
“Sug—”
Nic started in. “You’re selling illegal ammo, and you don’t trust me? Screw this, Cash. I’m calling ATF. They can deal with her.” She rifled through the black hole bag. The cell would eventually be found, and Nic didn’t look like this was a bluff.
Sugar looked ready to pounce. “Excuse me? What the—”
“Ladies, backroom. Now. Nic, put your cell away.”
Without a word, Sugar turned and stormed down the hall. Nic gave a smirk and shrug, following after her. Their two sets of feminine ass-kickin’ boots were readying to loft him a good one where the sun didn’t shine if he didn’t rein this situation in on the quick.
Their threesome stopped in Sugar’s office. He’d only been in there a couple of times and hadn’t been intent on checking out the décor. Now, his objective was to keep them civil and productive.
He looked at the bright fuchsia wall and over-the-top furniture. Sugar’s office was the Home Depot version of her, something he should have noticed before. Bet lots of interesting things go down in this room.
“Speak,” Sugar ordered Nicola. “Fast.”
Nic smiled as if ice ripped through her veins. “Where’d Jared’s ammo come from?”
“None of your nosey-girl business.”
“You know who Antilla Smooth is?”
Sugar cocked an eyebrow and looked at Cash. He was content to let them work through this. For now.
Sugar pivoted a gaze back to his girl. “BFF to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, big fan of the Hussein brothers. What does that have to do with me?”
“Ever move his product?” Nic asked.
“Never seen his product. Never been overseas to do business. Cash?” Sugar turned to him, a flash of concern coloring her glance. “What does this have to do with me?”
He zipped his lips. Not his interrogation.
She turned back to Nic. “I run a legit shop. I buy, sell, and trade. I design and build. I don’t play with third- or first-world arms dealers. No one in Europe, the Middle East, or South America. I don’t use Swiss bank accounts. Cold, hard good ole US of A cash exchanges. Fess up, Garrison girl. What’s up with ATF threats and name dropping the likes of the Bin Laden clan?”
“The ammo you sold Titan is Smooth’s.”
“Not a chance.”
“Ever seen anything of Antilla Smooth’s?”
“Why would I?”
“He marks his product with—”
“Oh, fuck.” For a split second, shock shut Sugar silent. “With an A and an S.” Pure surprise dripped off Sugar’s painted-on face. The woman didn’t know. Nic had to see that too. Sugar was as caught off guard as he’d been when she rolled heels first into Winters’s living room.
“Who’d you buy it from?” Nic followed up on that revelation.
“A legit source.” Sugar started to straighten a pile of papers that were already squared off.
“You’re not naming names?”
“I’m not giving up my seller to some—”
“Sugar.” Cash nailed her with a watch-your-ass look.
She pursed painted lips and started again. “I’d rather keep my rifle rolodex to myself, thank you.”
Nic pushed her. “Your guy has connections you don’t need.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Smooth arrived in the U.S. three months ago. We’ve been mapping out his network.”
“I’m not part of his network.”
“Didn’t say you were, but I’d like to know who you know. We didn’t think he’d sell to legit sources.” Nic used air quotes around legit. Wasn’t that nice of her? “And we didn’t think it’d infiltrate this far south or this fast to consumers.”
“And who is we?”
Nicola paused. There’s no way she’d say CIA. “Titan.”
He didn’t expect that either. According to the look on Sugar’s face, neither did she. Nic wasn’t exactly Titan. She was contract help. But better that lie than no response. They should ha
ve worked out a little back story before they went in, questions ready to fire.
Sugar tapped pink nails on her desk, quick taps, one right after the other. “Cash, you two go out back. Take your pick from my private gun stash. I have a couple calls to make.”
“All right. Let’s give her a minute. Come on, Nic.”
Nicola dropped the huge black hole bag. Everything spilled out. Why’d the woman need all that stuff?
“Sorry. Sorry.” She scooped it without looking, shoving it all back in from where it came. “Sorry.”
He didn’t take Nic for the bumbling type, especially after the ladies had gone back and forth like that. A lip gloss-lipstick thing rolled under Sugar’s desk. “Oh, you—”
“I’m ready.”
“But—”
“Jesus, Cash. I got all my stuff. Let’s go.”
Oh no, she didn’t. The glimmer in her eye said oh yes, she did. Titan had their toys. The CIA had theirs. Nicola had a listening device that looked like a tube of fancy-dancy lip gloss.
Listening devices weren’t necessarily legal. Then again, when did he, Titan, or the CIA play by the national security rule book?
His gut re-twisted. This was Sugar though. He trusted her. Right?
Nic led the way out, and they shuffled to the outdoor course after grabbing a couple long rifles from Sugar’s stash-o-guns. He waved to a couple folks he knew and took every opportunity to catch Nic’s eye. She wasn’t having it, and he wasn’t talking about it. Who knew who else was listening?
They headed to the outdoor course. Manmade hills, swaying tall grass, and creative-assed obstacles that Cash knew exploded in colored smoke were dead ahead. Flags showed a mild, five mile per hour breeze. The sun had started to sink, but they had hours more of summer daylight.
He took position, loaded up a .45 that was eons away from as much fun as Miss Betty and fired. Blue smoke burst and billowed.
“Nice shot,” Nic said.
“Easy shot.” Her approval was completely unneeded, yet it tugged on his cheeks. Maybe now he could push her on the lipstick move. “Nice move.”
She squinted. “I haven’t gone to the line yet, crazy.”
“Yet you’ve already crossed it.”
Nic mouthed a dramatic oh. “’Cause she’s your friend?”
“Because I said she could be trusted.”
“I don’t trust anyone. Hazard of the job. I tried earlier today with you, and it bit me on the ass. I’m playing by my rules now.”
He ignored the jab and chambered another round. Aim. Shoot. Blue smoke.
He emptied the spent round and turned to her. “We need to do something normal.”
“Fine—”
“I gotta go home. I owe my mom a visit. Since you’re alive, you should see your folks.”
“I called them. Gave them the whole spiel, told them what Witness Protection told me to pass along since I’m out and about and want to keep mobster crosshairs off ‘em.”
“You don’t want to go home?” he asked.
She pulled down her sunglasses, stepped to the line, and fired off her weapon. Different target hit. Green smoke. She didn’t turn around, just stayed, staring down range.
“Nic?” He took a step forward and spoke lower. “Nicola?”
Nicola cleared her weapon and turned. “Look, I can’t handle seeing their faces. Okay? I talked to them. They know it all. They had the same reactions you and Roman did. I’m devil daughter. I get it. I don’t need to see it.”
“Don’t you miss—”
“Of course I do. I’ve missed them every day. Just like I missed you and Roman.”
She turned back toward the last of the wafting colored smoke. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s go see them.”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah—”
Spinning fast, she stabbed him with a glare. “I’m not strong enough. You happy? Is that what you want to hear?”
“I don’t believe you.”
Nicola glared at him. “They deserve better than me.”
“I know your folks—”
“No you—”
“How about this? I’m going to go see them. You’re welcome to join me. Then we’ll go do something boring and normal, like catch a movie or something. You need to chill, and I’m gonna help.”
“I don’t know.” She looked terrified.
“We’ll go after this. You can sit in the truck while I do the parental drive-bys if you want to hide. Then we’ll go make s’mores or something. Something nice and normal and boring.” They both heard Sugar’s heels before she announced herself. Cash smiled. “Or you can always stay here with Sugar.”
Sugar held Nic’s lip gloss listening piece high overhead. She looked… not pissed. What the deuce?
“All right, Nicole Whatever-Your-Name-Is.” Almost her name. Sugar was in the same ballpark as Nicola. It was progress. Sugar continued, “Cute. Very funny. I respect the effort. Cash, scram. She and I have business.”
Maybe not progress.
Nicola looked at him. “See ya. Have fun at Mom and Dad’s.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cash took his sweet time leaving, dragging one boot in front of the other. Nicola and Sugar watched. Maybe he hoped they’d call him back. Maybe he was concerned about pitting two lady bulls against one another with no one to enforce ground rules.
Sugar cracked a piece of gum between her teeth. “So, you and Cash?”
“Or is it you and Cash?” Nic pushed back. This was why Cash wanted to be here. Chick fight and dirt digging.
The plastic smile on Sugar’s face softened a flicker, then went back to its tough girl routine. “You’re still going to call ATF, aren’t you?”
“I might.”
Sugar cracked her gum again. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not sure if it’s in my best interest yet.”
Sugar didn’t look convinced. “Well, it’s definitely not in mine.”
Nicola eyed Sugar, for the moment, restraining the urge to slap the lipstick off her face. “So we’ve got something in common.”
“You mean besides banging Cash?”
And, back to her casino-worthy poker face. She would’ve smacked Sugar if there was anything to be gained by it. Nic felt Sugar analyze her reaction for a lightning strike of jealousy and knew she’d given nothing up. Thank you, CIA.
“What’s the deal with you two anyway? Last name’s Garrison. You were married? He doesn’t seem like the type.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Not going to explain anything?” Sugar asked.
“We’re old news.” Nicola shrugged through her lie.
“Not according to that I’m-dreaming-of-lights-out look he gave you. Anyway. You left this in my office.” Sugar held out the listening device. Odd that she could pick it out. It looked like any other tube of Clinique gloss. It was also more than noteworthy that she transitioned from Cash without batting a false eyelash.
“You don’t care about Cash and me?” Nic asked.
“Not really. Cash and I were just fun. Nothing special. But I did like trying to make you squirm.”
“You certainly made him.”
“Fun, right? I like fucking with him. Keeps his boots on the ground. He’s a cool dude. I didn’t pick him for a one-gal kinda man, but what do I know?” Sugar cracked her gum again. Annoying habit. “Back to your super not-so-secret bug. Spill it, and I might give you something on the ammo.”
“It was the best I could do when you stonewalled me. I hadn’t planned to be here anyway.”
“And?” Sugar raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“And?” Well, shit. She had to give Sugar something, or this was pointless. “And I’m tracking Antilla Smooth. Cash isn’t necessarily thrilled that I’m on the hunt. He’d rather handle it for me.” Word hadn’t hit the street yet that Smooth was six feet under with a clean shot above his nose.
“Macho prick.” Sugar smiled.
; Nicola laughed. “Indeed.”
“Good in bed though.”
No, she didn’t. “And back to Cash. You sure it’s all, ‘I’m cool, he’s cool, we were just having fun’?”
Sugar studied her. “You play by some kind of rule book? Don’t kiss and tell? Don’t leave home without a bug?”
As a matter of fact, nope. She was flying by the seat of her Seven jeans. “Maybe it’s more a matter of decorum.”
“Well, decorum this: that man is good with his hands. And his—”
“Sugar!”
Sugar shrugged, laughing. She extended the lip gloss tube. “You’re cool, Nicola Garrison. This shit’s expensive. You can have it back. I like the ballsy move, and I hate getting messed with. If I sold Smooth ammo, and it sounds like I might’ve, let’s just say, I believe in retribution.”
Retribution, Nic could work with. Maybe even Sugar she could work with. Cash wouldn’t like this, and Sugar wouldn’t follow any kind of plan. Nic could tell. This was one of those the-higher-the-risk-the-greater-the-reward moments.
Nicola pocketed her Clinique bug. “What would you say if we smoked the bastard out together?”
Sugar blew a bubble and chewed in silence, bright red lips pursed in thought. In the background, someone fired through a magazine. Nic pushed her sunglasses into her hair and stared back at Sugar.
Finally, Sugar smirked. “I could do that and stomach you.”
“Marvelous, Sugar. So glad to hear it.” Just when Sugar’s bitch level dropped below intolerable, she pumped it back up. “I have to work an assignment out of the country, but I’ll get a hold of you. And as a matter of good faith, I won’t listen to whatever you said in front of this.” She held up the lip gloss.
“Doesn’t matter. I have a jammer. You didn’t get crap.” She jutted a hip, planted a hand on it, and grinned like she saw Nic coming straight from Langley.
Sugar had a jammer in her office? What else did that woman sell? Nicola looked at Sugar’s outfit, thought of Cash, and decided she didn’t want to know. “I’m going to regret this.”
Summer Heat Page 38