Catch

by S. Poirier

  She slaps the skeleton key in Catch’s hand and I follow him up two flights of stairs to the third floor of the building. It may be in a sketchy area of the city, but you would never guess by the looks of this place.

  The walls are a calming blue color and the crown molding is carved and appears to be original to the house. The stairs and floors are a maple colored wood and groan under our weight every few steps. There’s a big crystal chandelier hanging in the foyer, and all the doors are old wood with old glass doorknobs. The house smells strongly of a mixture of incenses and pot.

  Catch kicks the door open and motions with his hand for me to enter. I walk in and drop my bags on the floor. The room is big. Much larger than any of the hotel rooms we’ve stayed in. In the center of the room is an antique, four poster king sized bed. White lace blankets, curtains to match, and a mountain of blue, purple and yellow pillows.

  There is a small seating area with an old antique couch, coffee table and flat screen TV on an old table against the wall. The other side of the room has a dresser and vanity with mirror. The bathroom door is next to the dresser.

  “Wow,” I mumble.

  He snorts. “What did you expect? A run down brothel?”

  I turn to face him. There are little pink lips all over his face. “Will you please go wash Marina off your face?”

  He takes the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up to scrub the pink lipstick off his face, giving me a peek at his delicious body. “Jealous woman,” he mumbles into his shirt.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Shut up, Catch. I’m still pissed off at you by the way.”“Babe…” he starts.

  “No, you don’t get to call me ‘babe’. I’m not your girl. Remember? We already discussed this,” I say, not bothering to hide how much what we discussed bothers me.

  He throws his hands up. “Okay, you’re right. Look, I just want to tell you that we are meeting with Snitch tonight. It’s going to be at a little hole in the wall bar. He’s friends with the owners so we should be safe there.”

  “We?” I ask a little surprised. So far I have been always told to stay put, don’t answer the door, and stay away from windows, blah…blah.

  “You need to get out before you drive us both crazy, and Snitch wants to meet you.”

  I was seething, but upon hearing him say that I was going to get to go out in public made all the other stuff not seem so important. And I shamelessly did a happy dance in the middle of the room.

  ****

  Catch

  “Max, come the hell on. Snitch is the last person we want to piss off. And being late could very well accomplish that,” I yell from the couch in our room. After she did that adorable little dance earlier she darted into the bathroom, and has been in there for over an hour. The sun had set over three hours ago and the Quarter is probably full to the brim with people. We should be able to easily slip in and out without being seen.

  The bathroom door comes open and she steps out. Her brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head with little pieces falling down around her face. She has on very little makeup, but is wearing bright red lipstick. The dress she has on is black and has a scoop neckline that comes down only low enough to show her collarbone. The bottom of the dress hits just past her thighs. And she’s wearing a pair of blood red heels. The kind where I can see just a peek of her black toenails.

  “You like?” she asks as she makes a slow turn. When I see the back of the dress I inhale sharply. I know she hears my reaction because I can see the gooseflesh rising on her skin from across the room. She glances at me over her shoulder and smiles.

  The back of the dress drapes down her back, stopping right before it reaches the top curve of her ass. Her entire back is exposed. Along the top, from her left shoulder blade to her right, is a tattoo of a flock of little black birds.

  “Uh, where did you get that from?” I ask.

  “It was Sarah’s,” she replies as she spins back around.

  “I seriously, doubt my mom allowed her to leave the house in that. And I really don’t think it’s a good idea to for you to leave this room in…that,” I croak as I wave my hand up and down.

  A slow smirk forms across her face. “Jealous, Catch?”

  Hell yeah I’m jealous. I don’t want any other man seeing that much of her flesh. I just might have to kill any man who looks at her. But hell will freeze over before I admit that out loud. So I avoid the question altogether. “Come on, we need to get going.”

  Some of Marina’s pothead friends whistle as we pass on our way out and I send them a warning glare. They quickly back off and go back to playing whatever video game has their attention.

  We walk a couple of blocks over and down a dark street. We’re close enough to the notorious nightlife of New Orleans that we can hear the people and music. However, it still doesn’t help with the eerie feeling of the street we’re on. Max mumbles something about her gun, and I reassure her that I have us covered. I can still tell that she would feel more comfortable if she had her own weapon, and I love that about her.

  I stop at a door that looks like just a backdoor to a bar on the main street. Max brings her hand up and wraps her arm around my bicep. I can tell she’s nervous. I don’t blame her, I was a little nervous the first time I came here too.

  I knock and the door opens a crack. A big muscle is standing on the other side, his deep brown eyes regarding the both of us closely. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” he asks in a deep baritone voice. The joke changes every night. Only the people with the correct answer can get through the door.

  “To prove to the opossum that it could actually be done.” Max chuckles and I look over at her surprised she thought that was funny.

  She shrugs. “Sorry, I just never heard that one before. I was expecting the usual, ‘to get to the other side’. I also thought that wouldn’t make much sense because everyone knows that one and…”

  “Max, shut up.” Her nerves are getting the best of her and she is rambling like a fool.

  “Hey!” she yells. My eyes widen and I start to shake my head. Quickly she pulls her lips in between her teeth.

  The door creaks open and the big guy lets us in. “What’s your business here?” he asks.

  “Looking for Snitch,” I reply.

  He chuckles a deep sound. “I like that dude. Go ahead in; he’s in his usual back corner.”

  The moment we enter the room I feel Max relax next to me. The scene is the same as any other bar. There’s a long bar at one end of the room, tables and booths at the other end, and a couple of pool tables tucked in a back corner. The patrons are all your average group of bar hoppers. The only difference with these people is that they have some kind of connection to the owner.

  When we approach Snitch he’s sitting at a booth in the back of the room. He still has the same short, sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes framed in by his black rimmed glasses. He’s wearing a grey suit with the collar of his white button up shirt unbuttoned. He also has a very leggy blond almost straddling his lap with his hand up the back of her really short skirt. Her tongue is so far down his throat it looks like she’s trying to eat his face.

  I clear my throat and he glances over her shoulder. “Catch!” he exclaims before turning his attention back to the blond. “Hey, babe, how about you go play with your friends while I visit.” She giggles and removes herself from his lap. Blondie smiles as she slides out of the booth and then proceeds to smooth out her skirt and readjust her large fake breasts.

  “Oh, hell no,” Max says. I turn to look at her as if she has lost her mind. “What? You have been talking about this guy for almost two weeks now. And this is him?” I glance over at Snitch. He’s watching her with amused silence. “He hardly looks twenty-one, and he was almost having sex with what looked like an easy slut. You should have warned me that our help is a baby faced, nerdy pervert.”

  Jesus Christ that mouth of hers.

  A few very awkward seconds of silence tick by. For all o
f those seconds I’m fully prepared to pull my piece if Snitch comes after Max. Then Snitch starts laughing. A full on, falling over, belly laugh that has the man crumpled over in the booth holding his side.

  After he regains his composure he sits up and wipes the few stray tears from his eyes. “I like her, Catch. She’s on fire, and that attitude, just wow.”

  Max rolls her eyes. “Fucking typical. I’m going get a drink.” She turns on her heel and starts walking towards the bar.

  “Holy shit, dude,” Snitch says hardly loud enough for me to hear. I look over to see him watching Max walk away, his head tilted slightly to the side.

  “Don’t,” I say in a gruff voice and his eyes snap back to mine.

  He puts his tattooed hands up. “Say no more. I hear you loud and clear. She’s something else, Catch. Do you think you can handle that?” He asks with a smirk that makes me want to punch the glasses off his face.

  “Honestly, she’s more than I could ask for. She’s too damn good for someone like me.” I’m not sure why I tell him this. Maybe I just needed to finally say it, but I change the subject quickly. “So what’s Timer up to?”

  Snitch stretches out and takes a sip of the whiskey he’s drinking. “Man, he’s pissed. Like epic pissed. My sources tell me that he wants your fucking head on a stake. But, he’s also having a great time chasing you. He wants you brought to him alive so he can take care of you himself.” He jiggles his glass making the ice clank against the sides. “That’s why I asked if she’s worth it.”

  I sigh and look over at the bar. Max is sitting there sipping on a local Louisiana amber beer, legs crossed with her upper thigh exposed. “I’m not going to go into the details about Max. But I can tell you that she is an innocent person. This isn’t like my regular assignments. She stumbled across some information on the company that she’s been working for. It’s bad stuff, obviously. Now they want her dead because of what she knows.”

  “I’m aware of some of the details. She worked for James Kelly at Fiddle. I know he was the one who called in the hit. I have to admit that I’m surprised he agreed to the kidnapping part. What does she know?” he asks. I tell him what we know about what Max has figured out from the documents that we printed. He asks a few questions and says that he’ll see what more he can find out. “Timer arranges for hits to be taken out on people like James Kelly. I thought he was an idiot, but somehow he was smart enough to pull the wool over Timer’s eyes.”

  “Or he made him an offer that he couldn’t refuse,” I say.

  “Or that,” he agrees before throwing back the rest of his drink. A waitress appears almost out of nowhere and places another drink on the table. “The two of you should be safe at Marina’s since she takes in favors for me. She understands that the two of you are hiding out. You’re also in a big city. It’ll be harder for anyone to find you. But, we need to figure out what’s going on and get the information to Timer. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about any of this. If what you say is true, if she really is just an innocent person that made a huge fucking mistake, then maybe he won’t be so ready to off the two of you. I can’t make any promises though. Timer can be unpredictable when it comes to money.” He tips his glass to me before taking a sip. “Now you might want to go get your girl. She looks mighty cozy over there with one of New Orleans most notorious playboys.”

  I look over to see Max leaning in close to a man who is dressed in a black slacks and a leather jacket. She’s laughing at something he whispered in her ear. When she rights herself on her barstool she brings her hand up to twist a piece of her stray hair. And his hand comes down to rest on her bare knee. He starts rubbing slow methodical circles over her milky skin.

  A warm heat rises up my spine and a kind of jealousy that I have never experienced before punches me in the gut. I look over at Snitch. “Keep me posted. The moment you know something let me know.”

  He reaches across the table and grabs my arm. For such a small guy he’s strong. “Don’t start anything in here. Don’t make a scene.” He doesn’t have to elaborate. I only nod and then slide out of the booth.

  Max is laughing in a flirty way at something that douchebag has said to her when I approach. “Hey, Blaze, you ready to get out of here?”

  She looks up at me and bats her eyelashes. “No, I’m having a good time, but if you want to go I won’t be upset.” So, she’s playing a game with me.

  “Uh, is this your boyfriend?” the guy asks. His hair is black and combed back.

  She takes a long pull on her beer, licks her red lips, and then looks me directly in the eyes. “No, he’s just a friend.”

  Max is right. We’re only friends, but dammit the alpha male in me wants nothing more than to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of here, but Snitch said no scene. So instead I lightly drag my fingers along the small of her bare back. It arches and she bites her bottom lip.

  “Hey, I don’t mind taking care of her,” the douchebag says in a smooth tone.

  “Stay out of it,” I bark, gaining the attention of some patrons nearby. “Max?” I put a slight bit of pressure on her back trying to coax her off the stool.

  The guy is now on his feet, his cold, brown eyes focused on me. He’s shorter with wide shoulders, and there’s no doubt in my mind we are not evenly matched. This guy would never know what hit him.

  I look out the corner of my eye to see Snitch watching me. Another one of his muscles is standing next to him ready to pounce if he gives the word.

  Max’s expression becomes tight. “Catch?” there’s warning in her tone, in her eyes. She’s silently pleading with me to leave it alone, to let her take care of herself.

  “Hey, man, I don’t think she wants to leave with you,” he says, and just to drive his point home he puts his hand on her thigh. He’s trying to mark her like some kind of territorial dog.

  I grip the back of the barstool enough to hear the wood groan. I want to beat this guy’s face in until he is unable to ever display that cocky grin again. But I can’t make a scene. This is the best place for Snitch and I to meet. If I do anything to this customer, who I’m sure is a well-paying regular, I won’t be allowed to step foot in this place again. So, instead of acting like the jealous, violent asshole that I am I take a different route.

  “Okay, Max, if want to stay then I’ll see you later,” I say in a tight voice. I turn and start walking towards the door. Maybe she’ll come with me, maybe she won’t. I can only hope that she knows how much she needs me. Before I can reach the exit she’s next to me. She’s not happy, but I breathe a sigh of relief anyway. It’s better for her to be pissed off at me rather than choosing that other guy.

  The moment we are out the door she grabs my arm. “What the hell was that? I’ve been cooped up for two weeks, and I’m finally able to come back into the land of the living, and you crap all over my parade? I was having a good time.” I shrug. “Oh don’t start that shrugging shit with me. You need to tell me what the hell that was back there. Were you jealous that I was talking to another guy?” She gives my chest a hard angry shove. “Were you jealous that he was making me laugh and touching me?” Now she’s gripping my arm and forcing me to look at her as she’s yelling. I’m thankful that we’re on a dark deserted street. The last thing we need to do is bring attention to ourselves.

  Her words bring me back to when I saw the guy whispering in her ear, how he touched her leg, and how she fucking twirled her hair for him. Max is beautiful and I realize how easy it would be for her to slip through my fingers. And that’s the last thing I want to happen. Something inside of me snaps and I don’t know if I like it.

  I want her.

  I want all of her, all the time.

  I tear my arm from her grip and start towards Marina’s. I know she’s behind me because I can hear her heels clicking against the pavement. I don’t stop. I just keep going until I reach the house. One of the stoners lets us in and I go straight up the stairs. She’s hot on my heels, and I can feel the anger and fru
stration rolling off of her.

  She stalks across the room while I lock the door. When I turn around I’m hit in the chest with a red high heel shoe. I don’t say anything, just stare at her. She takes off her other shoe and throws it at me, but this time I catch it before it hits me. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly with her quickened breath. More hair from her bun has fallen and is framing her face. She’s so pissed off at me that I can see the fire in her eyes.

  “You better tell me what the fuck is going on with you, or I’m going to start throwing more than just my shoes,” she threatens. And I have no doubt about that as I see her hands clench into tight fists. “You’ve been going out and leaving me alone in those hotel rooms, doing only God knows what with God knows who. So, you better start talking.” There is this invisible cord of tension between the two of us that I can physically feel. It’s tightening more and more as the seconds tick by, and I just can’t stand it anymore.

  I cannot pretend anymore.

  The image of him touching her blazes through my mind again and I’m done for. “I was jealous!” I yell. She gasps and her hand comes up to clutch her chest. “I was so damn jealous that I wanted to break every single one of that bastard’s fingers that touched you. Hell, I wanted to break his neck for the way he was looking at you, whispering in your ear. And then you go and twirl your fucking hair. Do you have any idea what you’re doing when you do that?” Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. I can tell that she really has no idea. I stalk across the room and only come to a stop when I’m so close to her that her body reacts and she sways towards me. I pull the comb from her hair letting it fall down her back. Picking up a piece I run it through my fingers. I drop my voice to a deep whisper. “When you twirl your hair it brings attention to your beautiful face, your eyes, your hair and those beautiful little hands. Those little hands that I want shoved down my pants.” Her eyes widen, but I keep going. “When you twirl your hair I can hardly stand to look at you because it drives me crazy.” I tuck a strand of her stray hair behind her ear. “The nights I left the hotel room is because it’s hard for me to breathe around you and not be able to touch you. So I went out to scout the area. No shenanigans with anyone, I promise.”