Final Day--a Wired & Dangerous novella

by Megan Erickson

  Angel puffed his cigarette. “She sends me postcards after she leaves a location. We have never been able to find her. I’m angry about that, but you are leaving out what else you did.”

  Erick hung his head and spoke into his lap. “I also blew up his boat.”

  “You blew up his boat?” Tarr screeched. An actual screech. “Why the fuck did you blow up his boat?”

  Erick shrugged, his expression cowed. “Because I like blowing up things?”

  “Oh my God.” He knew how much Angel loved his boat. Its name was Gabrielle’s Wings. “You couldn’t have gotten his prostitutes some student loans? Paid their credit card debt? You had to blow up his fucking boat?” He closed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands. “We’re so fucking dead.”

  The only sounds in the room were the heaving breathing of the guards and Angel’s soft puffing on his cigar. Finally, he spoke. “Not dead,” he said.

  Tarr lifted his head, but of course Erick had to say more stupid shit. “Are we going to wish we were dead?”

  Tarr shot a glare at Erick.

  Angel actually laughed. It was a dark chuckle that sent a chill down Tarr’s spine, but it was still a laugh. “Maybe. You will complete a mission for me. Then we’re even.”

  “Okay, but can we have the car—” Tarr began.

  “You complete the mission now.”

  Tarr rubbed his hands together, gritting his teeth to keep from screaming. “Angel, we’re kind of on a time crunch here—”

  “Tarr, I respect you, but this needs to be done. You do this and you get your car, and I won’t kill Mr. Lee.”

  Erick’s mouth opened, then shut, and then opened again. “Just to get this straight. You’re saying if we don’t complete this mission now, you’ll kill me.”

  Angel blew smoke rings. “Correct.”

  Erick clapped his hands together. “Okay then. Guess it’s mission time. So what do you need us to do?”

  Angel took out a manila folder from a drawer in his desk and handed it to Tarr. He peeked inside and saw a picture of a man smoking outside a bar, along with a paper about him. Tarr read it, committed it to memory, and then handed both the picture and the paper back to Angel. Angel flicked a lighter, burned the papers, and tossed them in his trash can.

  “What just happened?” Erick asked.

  “A job,” Tarr answered.

  “I need him gone,” Angel said.

  Tarr nodded.

  “Gone?” Erick echoed. “As in…Wait, what kind of job is this?”

  Tarr slowly turned his head to face Erick. “You know what I do.”

  Erick’s voice went up several octaves. “We have to kill a guy?”

  Tarr ignored Erick. Thankfully, so did Angel. “Do you need guns?”

  “Guns and a car,” Tarr said.

  “Mission first. You take off in that car, I will find you.”

  He didn’t have to verbalize a threat. Tarr knew. “Of course.”

  Angel nodded and didn’t even look at Erick. “Then go. You have two days.”

  “It’ll be done. I’ll send you confirmation.”

  Tarr shook Angel’s hand, steered Erick out of the office, and hurried out of the warehouse. There some men were already loading weapons into an SUV.

  “Look—” Erick began.

  Tarr was not in the fucking mood. Because of Erick’s bullshit, they were delayed getting to his sister. He whirled on him and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “We will discuss this later. I don’t have time for your moral dilemma. I have a job to get done so I can get to my sister. That’s it, plain and simple. Do you understand?”

  Erick’s nostrils flared, but thank God he didn’t retort back because Tarr was close to leaving his ass behind. “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  A man threw Tarr the car keys, and they got in the car. It wasn’t until they were leaving Angel’s compound that Tarr remembered he hadn’t slept yet and probably wouldn’t anytime soon.

  * * *

  Erick

  Erick had known blowing up the boat was a bad idea before he even did it. That hadn’t stopped him though, because bad ideas were fun. And it had been fun. He’d set up a camera so he could watch the boat burst into flames. Angel was a controlling father whom Gabi couldn’t wait to escape from. His boat had been purchased on the backs of drug addicts and prostitutes.

  So yeah, Erick blew up the boat. And he still didn’t regret it.

  He glanced at Tarr, who drove with his hands tightly fisted on the wheel, jaw tense. Okay, maybe he regretted leaving his calling card so Angel knew who did it. That had been a terribly stupid idea that he was now paying for.

  “Am I allowed to ask questions now?” Erick said in the silence of the car.

  Tarr didn’t answer. Erick took that as a yes.

  “So, we have to kill someone. Like…do a hit?” What was the terminology?

  Tarr gave Erick a withering look. “Yes, we have to do a hit.”

  “Have you done this for Angel before?”

  “Yeah, it’s why I knew I could head to his place a get a car. I had no idea your presence would fuck it all up.”

  “Maybe if you’d communicated like a big boy, I could have given you a heads-up that Angel hates me.”

  Tarr’s shoulders were nearly around his ears, and his face was red in the glow of the streetlights. “Swear to God, the mark won’t be the only death tonight.”

  “Is that a threat?” Erick didn’t actually think Tarr would kill him.

  “I’m not going to kill you, but it made me feel good to imagine it.”

  Erick couldn’t help it. He actually laughed out loud. “If imagining killing me makes you feel better, than by all means. You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “But honestly, why did you blow up his boat? Helping his daughter, I could see. He’s a controlling bastard. But the boat?”

  “I’m a gray hat hacker. I try to use my forces for good. And blowing up his boat felt good because he’s a criminal piece of shit. I wasn’t going to bring down his whole operation because that would get me hunted and killed to the ends of the earth. But a boat? Eh, that was five years ago. I hoped he forgot about it, to be honest.”

  “Guys like him never forget,” Tarr murmured while making a turn.

  “Where are we going anyway?”

  “Dive bar outside of town. Guy should be there tonight. We’ll get him when he steps outside to smoke.”

  Erick was dying to know who the guy was and what he’d done to make Angel want to kill him. Had he done worse than blow up a boat? But part of Erick didn’t want to know. Like it or not, he was a part of this guy’s death. He didn’t want to know if the guy was some father of two who had unwittingly fucked over Angel. Chances were he was a criminal too, but what if he wasn’t?

  Erick didn’t have a choice though. His life or this guy’s. And Tarr’s sister’s life was dependent on Erick and Tarr getting to her house alive. Still, in the back of Erick’s mind, he wondered if his life was any more important than this guy who’d reach the end of his tonight.

  He glanced at Tarr, who’d relaxed somewhat and now drove with one hand on the wheel, the other propped on the door.

  “Hey,” Erick said, “I’m going to call Roarke and give him an update. Find out what’s going on at home.”

  “Good idea,” Tarr said, his voice less agitated now. “Put him on speaker.”

  “One thing, uh,” Erick covered with his nerves with an awkward laugh. “I’m not going to tell Roarke we have to take some guy out. I’ll tell him later, but for now, it’s best he doesn’t know.”

  Tarr thought about that for a minute before saying drily, “Right. You guys and your morals.”

  Erick ignored his comment and dialed Roarke’s number. Roarke answered after the first ring. “Hey.”

  “So,” Erick began, holding the phone between him and Tarr, “remember when you said blowing up Angel Guerrero’s boat was a bad idea?”

  “I told you that entire job, incl
uding what you did for his daughter was a bad idea, but yeah. Why?”

  “Funny thing how you were right.”

  “Erick, what the fuck?” Roarke’s voice was louder now. “Are you okay?”

  “Define ‘okay.’”

  “Erick—”

  “You told us to switch cars,” Tarr cut in. “I told Erick I have a guy I know we can go to. We pull into Angel’s warehouse, he walks out, spies Erick, and loses his shit.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. Erick, how didn’t you recognize his place?”

  “He moved locations.”

  “Shit,” Roarke sighed.

  “In order to keep Erick alive, Angel is making us run an errand for him. We gotta do it, then we can take the car and get to my sister’s.”

  “Errand?” Roarke asked.

  “Yeah, I can explain later.” Erick winced. He hated lying to Roarke.

  “How much time is it going to take?” His friend didn’t prod, and Erick appreciated it.

  “Hopefully just tonight. What can you do to buy us some time?” Erick asked. “What’s going on with the Haros?”

  “Ah, well, that’s good news, at least.” The sound of keys tapping could be heard over the cell speaker. “Jock threw them off. Gave you a fake family down in Florida and coded some Easter eggs in their searches. They’re heading down there now and will find an empty house so it should buy you a couple more days.”

  Tarr exhaled loudly and speared his fingers through his hair. “I’d kiss Jock right now if he was here.”

  “I’d pay to see that,” Roarke said, laughing.

  “Me too.” Erick was unable to keep the suggestive tone out of his voice, but honestly? Huge muscle man Jock and broad-shouldered ginger Tarr in a lip-lock? Sign him up, even if he felt a sliver of jealousy over someone else getting to kiss Tarr.

  Tarr gave him a look but kept talking. “Tell him I appreciate it. We’ll keep you guys updated once we finish the job. We have to stop in New York too and pick up supplies from Erick’s friend.”

  “Yep, no problem. We’ll do what we can here to throw them off your trail.”

  “You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Erick said in a singsong voice, imitating the Kardashian meme.

  He could actually see Roarke’s eyes roll when he responded with, “Gee, thanks Erick.”

  “Talk soon,” Tarr said.

  “Hey,” Roarke cut in, “for real, Erick, stay alive, okay? You too, Tarr.”

  “So far, so good,” Erick said. “Say hi to Wren for me.”

  “Will do. See ya.”

  Erick ended the call and slid his cell onto the dashboard. “Well, at least we got some good news, right?”

  “Yeah, I feel a bit better actually.” He shook his empty coffee cup. “Wish I had more coffee for this stakeout.”

  “Yeah, it’s past midnight. When do you plan to sleep?”

  Tarr shrugged. “I guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  “Hope that’s later rather than sooner,” Erick muttered.

  Tarr smiled at that. “Yeah. Me too.”

  Chapter Five

  Erick

  Tarr looked alert. Erick wasn’t sure how because Tarr had driven for hours, faced off against a criminal kingpin, and was now staring out his windshield, eyes on the back door of Dilly’s Bar without even yawning.

  Meanwhile, Erick felt like his skull was splitting, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Instead, they’d watched some woman on her knees suck off a guy in the alley and observed another man drunkenly piss a figure eight. Really exciting stuff.

  It was now two thirty in the morning, and a sign on the bar door said the parking lot and premises had to be vacated by three. Their guy hadn’t left yet. No smoke break, no nothing, and Erick was starting to get a sinking feeling he wasn’t there tonight. Which meant they’d have to hang around until the bar opened the next day. Or later that day. Whatever.

  The back door banged open, and a group of five men tumbled out. Tarr straightened, his cool eyes assessing the crowd. Erick wasn’t much help because he didn’t know who they were looking for. His stomach cramped as he watched Tarr, wondering if this was it. Another man left the bar, locking the door behind him, and the last of the cars poured out of the parking lot.

  Tarr slumped back in his seat, scrubbing his face and showing fatigue for the first time since they’d left.

  “I take it you didn’t see him.” Erick said, biting his lip and wishing he had some fucking Advil.

  “No,” Tarr said wearily. “Christ.”

  Guilt swamped Erick because he knew Tarr was stressed. Hell, he was stressed too. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. Maybe you don’t want to hear it, but I want to get to your sister as quickly as you do.”

  Tarr let his head fall back on the headrest and slowly turned to face Erick. “You don’t have to say sorry. It’s not like you purposefully blew up his boat to fuck me over five years later.”

  “I left him my calling card. So he knew it was me and so he didn’t blame anyone else.”

  Tarr’s lips tilted up. “In all honesty, if this situation didn’t suck, I’d be laughing. I can’t believe you blew up Angel’s boat. Lotta balls you got, Lee.”

  Erick grinned, relishing the compliment. “Well thank you. Happy to blow up more shit if you’d like.”

  Tarr chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He rubbed his eyes, and Erick now noticed the dark circles beneath them. “There’s a hotel down the road. It’s not the Ritz but it’s something. Why don’t we get a room, get some sleep, and show up back here when the bar opens again?”

  Tarr glanced at the darkened bar, seemingly hesitant to leave. But then he yawned so widely that his jaw cracked. “Shit, you’re probably right.”

  “I don’t know, but I would think you’d want to be well rested before you have to take out some guy.”

  Tarr turned the ignition. “It wouldn’t be the first time I did a job on no sleep. But I’d rather sleep in a bed than this truck, so let’s go.”

  “Room’s on me. Least I can do.”

  “Damn right the room’s on you.”

  Erick hid a smile by looking out his window.

  They checked into the hotel, which had an empty pool and a front desk with bullet holes in it. Not welcoming, but then they weren’t looking for anything other than a bed. Well, two beds.

  Luckily a room with two doubles was available. The woman behind the desk, who had graying hair and matching teeth, handed them a key. As they left the front office and headed up the outside stairs to their room, Erick muttered, “A real key and everything. When’s the last time you checked into a hotel room and was given an actual key?”

  Tarr only answered with a yawn, his feet shuffling on the cracked concrete. Erick opened the door, and Tarr stumbled in. He didn’t even take off his shoes. He collapsed onto the bed on top of the covers, shoved his hands under the pillow, and was asleep within a minute.

  Erick stood awkwardly at the foot of Tarr’s bed. Should he at least take off Tarr’s shoes? Who slept in shoes? So he tugged off Tarr’s boots as carefully as he could. The man snored softly and didn’t even move. Erick lined up Tarr’s boots between the beds and sat on his, toeing off his own shoes.

  He watched Tarr’s slumbering form, unable to stop admiring the curve of his back, the roundness of his ass. Seriously? Was he this hard up? He shoved off his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head and then covered himself with the sheets, his back to Tarr.

  Growing up, Erick had been focused on his family, his friendship with Roarke, and learning as much about coding as he could. He didn’t really date, and when he did go out with girls and later women, he never felt a spark. He thought he just hadn’t met the right one. He’d always preferred Roarke’s company over any girl’s. And later…well, all he wanted to do was hang out with Flynn. It wasn’t until he’d graduated high school that he realized his desire to be around Flynn was less about friendship and more about attraction. He’d thought Flynn was
straight, but then Flynn kissed him, and that had been it. Sparks flew, Erick actually wanted sex for once, and then he fell in love.

  He’d found other men attractive, but he’d never been interested because he’d had Flynn. Then Flynn died, and Erick was left wondering if he’d be alone forever. He couldn’t imagine wanting someone as much as he wanted Flynn, and he couldn’t conceive of being with anyone else.

  So why did Tarr have to be the man who caused Erick to feel a flicker of interest? Of all people, a hit man was getting him hard? This was fucking ridiculous, and now he was stuck with this guy for the foreseeable future.

  He couldn’t even figure out why he was interested. Sure, Tarr was hot, but Erick barely knew him. And maybe that was the problem; the mystery was what drew him in. Why was Tarr in this line of work? Why did he show that he had a heart—protecting Erick and saving Jock? The glimpse of how much he loved his sister and her kids was causing Erick to view him in a different light.

  Fucking stupid. Erick punched his pillow and huffed. Tomorrow Tarr was going to kill a guy, and tonight he slept like a baby. He wasn’t a good guy.

  So tomorrow he’d watch Tarr kill someone in cold blood, and it would throw a bucket of ice on Erick’s interest. It had to. Because if it didn’t, what would that say about him?

  * * *

  Erick

  Erick awoke to the sound of a door shutting. He opened his eyes, blinking groggily at the sun rays creeping in through the patchy curtain.

  Tarr sat down on his bed facing Erick and held up a McDonald’s bag as well as a cardboard cup carrier. The scent of coffee and bacon grease filled the room. Erick stretched his arms over his head as Tarr placed a paper cup near his head, as well as a wrapped sandwich. “Ordered you a McGriddle,” he said. “You seem like a McGriddle kinda guy.”

  Erick sat up, the sheet slipping down to his waist. Tarr’s eyes landed on his chest before dropping to his own bagel sandwich.