Twin Tango

by H Q Kingsley

  6

  Skylar

  Honestly, I couldn't believe my luck. In one day, I'd gone from having no idea how I was going to get in contact with even one of the twins to having an in with both of them. I had a job basically right there at the heart of their operation, which meant I'd have access to the warehouse and maybe some of the information that was sure to be inside it.

  From what I could tell, the twins weren't there all the time, and maybe if I worked my way up, I could convince the others who worked there that it was fine for me to be poking around. They were likely to be just as suspicious as Tic was of a newcomer, so it was something I'd have to work on.

  Either way, it was a big break for my mission, and I had plenty to tell my handler when I went to meet her that night.

  I went back to my apartment when I left the warehouse finally, and instead of going out to sling some shit, I pulled out my laptop and did a little research. There was an art show coming up in a few days, and that would be a perfect chance for me to get closer to Paddox.

  He seemed more open to me, more trusting. Like I'd be able to get in his good graces and then use that to my benefit. His brother, Patrick, was definitely harder to crack. He was dangerous. I could see it in his eyes the moment I looked into them, and I could hear it in his voice when he spoke. He was deadly, and I’d want to tread carefully with him. His bad side was probably not anywhere I wanted to end up, that much was for certain.

  I'd have to play it safe for a while, keep my role going and figure out a way to get the information I needed.

  Paddox's number was right there in my phone, and I opened a new text. My fingers trembled as I prepared to type something, and I found it odd how strangely nervous I suddenly was.

  How long had it been since I'd asked someone to go to something with me? Years, probably. None of my hookups were the type who wanted to mingle outside of the bedroom, and for the last twelve years, I'd been all but married to my job.

  That was just how things were.

  My dad had been the same way when I was a kid. The job came first and everything else fit in where it could. He’d always said he was doing it for us so I could grow up and live in a safer world so my mom wouldn't have to worry as much.

  He fought for that dream every day until he had to retire, and now I was fighting for it for him.

  It made it hard to have a social life, but I reminded myself that asking Paddox to this show was part of the job. I wasn't trying to get close to him for my own sake, no matter how damned attractive he was.

  It was part of the job, and I needed to stop being a baby about it and just text him already.

  I kept it casual, just a quick Hey, I saw this show coming up, and I was wondering if you wanted to go check it out with me.

  And then I put my phone down on the coffee table and made myself get up and make some lunch before I checked it again.

  If he said no, then I'd just have to come up with another plan. There would be plenty of other ways I could get close to him, probably. Either way, I had made a big leap that day, and nothing would take away from how good that felt.

  With a turkey sandwich in hand, I settled back down on the couch and looked at my phone.

  Hey! I'd love to!

  -P

  I let out a little sigh of relief and allowed a smile to spread over my face. I was getting somewhere.

  Awesome. I texted. I'll meet you there around three?

  Works for me!

  -P

  My heart leapt in my chest. I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush who had just texted back, and I tried to write it off as joy over doing well at my job. This was what I was working for, and once I had enough evidence to put the twins away, I could say I'd done a service to my community.

  The joy I suddenly felt over an outing with Paddox, well, that was just a fluke.

  Later that night, I left my apartment and headed for my car. There was a very careful protocol that I followed when I had meetings with my handler. I left my phone in the apartment, and I double-checked to make sure my door was locked and no one saw me leave.

  Patrick knowing where to send his goons to find me put me on my guard, so I was keeping a careful eye out for anyone following me. If they were, they'd just see me heading down to Malone's, a shitty dive bar on the south side of the city. Nothing suspect about that.

  It wasn’t strange at all. People went there all the time for their cheap drinks and greasy food.

  It was where my handler insisted on meeting every time even though she clearly hated the place and she stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Still, it was a good idea. There were so many shady deals going on at Malone's that no one thought twice about seeing us meeting there. For all they knew, one or both of us was having an affair and that was where we chose to meet up. Everyone was minding their own business, so no one got too interested in what anyone else was doing.

  On a Thursday night, the place was crowded and the drinks were flowing. The bar was smokey, and I smelled more than cigarettes when I walked in. Typical. This wasn't the kind of place where they had to worry too much about cops interfering, and the ones who were less than virtuous probably stopped here to let off some steam themselves, so they were more likely to try and keep things quiet.

  I waved my hand in front of my face to clear the air a bit and headed to the usual table to wait for Kathleen.

  Kathleen Tucker was good at her job, but she was something of a headache to deal with. She was glamorous in a way that was designed to make you look at her, and she was more than a little bit of a diva.

  She walked into the bar, her heels clacking across the wooden floor as she made her way over to me.

  She was wearing tight jeans and high heels, with a low-cut blouse that didn't leave anything to the imagination. Before I’d met her, I'd assumed handlers were supposed to be discreet, to blend in with the surroundings where they met with the agents, but she clearly wasn't interested in that.

  Kathleen wasn't new to the job, and she'd never had a problem, so obviously she knew what she was doing.

  More than a few of the drunks watched her as she walked by them and over to me and then went back to their drinks when she passed, which was the beauty of Malone's. No one’s eyes lingered for too long.

  Kathleen slid into her seat and gave me an expectant look. "Well?"

  I rolled my eyes but proceeded to launch right into my report. I told her what Mike had told me about Paddox and about being followed by the five guys. She seemed disinterested until I brought up making contact with both twins and having a job working at their warehouse.

  "Well," she said. "You've been busy. This is good progress. Follow up on it, but you'll need to be careful."

  I nodded. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Of course I already knew that.

  "It'll be fine," I assured her.

  She raised an eyebrow and looked at me with stern eyes and a serious expression on her face. "Don't forget why you're doing this," she said. "They're dangerous. Both of them. They won't hesitate to kill you if you blow your cover, and there's nothing we can do to help you if that happens. Don't get too close."

  I nodded again. I knew that was the standard protocol to remind every agent who went undercover. There was always the danger of getting too close to a target because you had to. You had to get them to trust you, and sometimes that meant forging friendships with them or getting closer than was smart. But that could never get in the way of the job because at the end of the day, you were there to take them down and make sure they ended up behind bars.

  I knew that, and still I felt like I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't have been doing. Like Kathleen could somehow see into my mind and knew I thought the twins were hot.

  There was no way that was possible, of course. And even if I found them incredibly attractive, I’d always put the job first, but I took her warning to heart.

  "I won't forget," I promised her.

  "Good," she said, nodding. "You're a good agen
t, and I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m going to see this through.” I didn’t have any plans to fuck it up.

  7

  Patrick

  On Friday, I was back at the warehouse, doing a walkthrough, making sure no one was slacking off and things were running smoothly. I treated it like a job, putting in my hours and making sure the workers knew I was always watching. It made them fuck up less that way.

  When they saw me yell at someone who was being a dumbass, it made them want to be a dumbass less because they didn't want to get called out in the middle of shit. Paddox always said it was stupid and rude, but he wasn't the one who they looked to as the boss, so he could do things his way, and I would do them my way.

  Speaking of Paddox, I glanced over at him in his corner, sitting on a bean bag with his legs stretched out, scribbling at something in one of his art magazines.

  He could lose himself over there for hours, picking out art shit or sketching, putting in the face time at the warehouse and making sure things were on track but keeping to himself.

  How long had it been since we'd just...talked? Before everything blew up and we became who we’d become. The kings of the city. Before, when we'd lay in bed in the shitty little one-bedroom apartments with 20 other welfare kids, we’d share and talk about everything. I knew him better than anyone else, and he knew me the same way, and there was nothing we didn't share...or at least, that’s how it used to be.

  But then we'd gotten busy, and we didn't live together anymore, so it felt like the gap between us was getting wider.

  I frowned. I didn't want that.

  I walked over to his corner and dropped down onto the bean bag next to him, stretching out and glancing at him.

  He eyes widened for a moment, and he looked surprised to see me, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he dropped his gaze back to his magazine.

  That was fair. After how I'd acted the other day, I had to make the first move to patch shit up.

  "New art supply book?" I asked, nodding to the catalog on the table.

  "What? Oh. Yeah," he said, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. "You done scaring people on the floor?"

  I smirked and nodded. "For now. They've got their shit together."

  "I coulda told you that. I checked on them when I got here."

  I shrugged. "You know me, I like to do shit with the personal touch."

  "You like to make them piss themselves, you mean," he said, but he didn’t seem angry or malicious.

  He smiled at me, and I relaxed a little, sinking down further into the bean bag.

  Sometimes it was just that easy with him. Forgiveness was something he handed out so freely and easily. I was jealous of him for it sometimes. He’d lost a great deal of loves in his life, but at least he’d had them. At least he had the willingness to try, to risk it.

  "Maybe.” I cleared my throat. “So, uh. Have you painted anything new lately?" I asked lamely.

  Fuck, when did I get so bad at talking to my own brother? I felt rusty reaching out to him about things that weren't about the business. That stuff I could spout off about all day, and when we were fighting, it was easy to know what to say and how to hurt him, but when it was just the two of us like this, relaxed and talking like brothers, it was harder. When had that happened? Talking to him used to be as natural as breathing.

  But it seemed like it was enough for Paddox that I'd even asked, and he perked up and grinned from ear-to-ear. "Yeah. I've been working on this new piece. Kinda abstract, real big. It's mostly based on, like, emotions and shit, and how they can span a whole canvas. It's probably kinda dumb,” he said, his grin fading a little.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Tell me about it. I want to know.” I’d thought it was a lie. I didn’t give a shit about art past the prestige of having the most sought after pieces hanging in my home, but I missed seeing him excited about something, and I actually did want to hear him talk about it.

  “Really?” he asked his eyes lighting up.

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I said with a shrug.

  “Well, it's pretty cool to work on..."

  I listened while he talked, asking questions and making an effort, and it was easy to see that Paddox was happy about it.

  "So what about you?" he asked finally. "What have you been up to lately? I feel like I haven't seen you for more than five minutes in a while."

  "Yeah," I said. "It's been a while. There's nothing new with me. I've just been making sure shit stays on track."

  I could tell he wanted to say something about that, but he held it back, still smiling. "You're dedicated," he said. "It's why you're the boss."

  We both ran things, but I was the one people were scared of. I was the one most of the information came to. Paddox didn't seem to care that much that he'd taken a back seat sort of role, so it just stayed that way.

  "Yeah, but I want to spend more time with you," I said. "We should do something tomorrow. How long has it been since we just shot the shit on a weekend? We could get lunch and play video games or whatever. Like we used to. Hell, we could go down the gym and shoot some hoops if you want. It's been a long time, but I bet I can still kick your ass."

  He snorted. "You wish you could kick my ass, Patrick. Your jump shot is weak, and so are your ankles. I can take you out easy on the court. But yeah, it has been a while. I can't tomorrow, though.” He chewed his lip. “I've got...a date."

  “Oh.”

  It wasn't what I wanted to hear. It wasn't a flat out rejection, but it felt like one. Paddox was so desperate for a man, for a relationship, that he was putting some date over hanging out with me, and it irked me. The brief moment of admiration I’d had for him for trying to find love was gone and replaced with anger.

  I was trying to be the bigger person, and he was making it hard.

  What was so fucking important about being in a relationship anyway? It was just another person you had to open up to and learn how to trust. Another person who Paddox would have to make okay with the lives we led, and when they weren't, he'd have to watch them walk away from him, and I'd have to pick up the pieces...like always.

  He'd been hurt enough times. When would he stop the useless hunt for 'the one' or whatever? I’d thought we both were on the same page that we had each other and that was enough.

  Apparently not. Apparently, he was never satisfied. We had each other, we had our business. Hell, we had the whole fucking city in our grasp. We ran everything, had the cops shaking in their boots, and the gangs lining up to work with us, and still he wanted more.

  But I hadn't come over there to lecture him about shit. I was supposed to be making peace, so I pasted a smile on my face that I knew didn't reach my eyes.

  "I didn't know you'd put yourself back on the market," I said, making my tone light like I was teasing him. "Who's the unlucky guy?"

  For a second, Paddox looked uncomfortable, but then he looked up and met my eyes. "It's Skylar,” he said. “You know, that guy you had brought in so he could wait for you for like two hours?"

  I froze at that. Of all the names my brother could have said, I wasn't expecting that one.

  "No," I said sharply. "You have to cancel."

  "What?” He blinked at me. “Why would I cancel?"

  Because I said so, was right on the tip of my tongue, but I bit that back. "Because you can't get close to the help. That's not how this works. We're above them, and they have to know that. It doesn't work if you're fucking one of them."

  "The help?" Paddox repeated, frustration lacing his tone. "Do you even hear yourself?” He shook his head and waved me off. “Whatever, nevermind. I should've just kept my mouth shut. I knew you were going to be like this. I don't know what you have against me being happy, but it's fucking annoying."

  "It's not about that," I snapped. I had to make him understand. "This is bigger than you needing to get your dick wet or fall in love or whatever. I've been having this feeling lately,” I
confessed. “This real sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Every morning I wake up, and it's there, and it doesn't go away, no matter what. It means something big is coming, Paddox. Something bad. Something that could fuck up everything we've been building. This isn't the time to be chasing after some dumbass guy just because he's cute...”

  I stopped for a minute, realizing what I’d just said. I’d meant it to mock Paddox, but...some part of me had taken notice of Skylar. Some part of me had definitely noticed how attractive he was.

  I shook my head and picked back up where I left off. “We've got to be careful. You've got to be careful. You can't go around making stupid, desperate decisions. Not until this blows over."

  Paddox just glared at me, anger burning in his dark eyes. His hands were balled into fists, and he got up like he was ready to storm out. "I'm not desperate," he spat with so much rage I could physically feel it coming at me. "Just because I want more out of life doesn't mean I'm desperate. You might think it's pathetic because you're satisfied never having anything else but this and looking back and seeing that your whole fucking life is this, but I want more, Patrick."

  I jumped to my feet and reached out, grabbing his shirt and hauling him in closer to me. "A storm is coming, Paddox, I can fucking feel it. And if you don't fall in line, then the rain is gonna fall on both of our heads. Do you get that? You could fuck up everything!”

  Paddox yanked himself out of my grip and shook his head. "Fuck you!" he snapped, and before I could apologize for crossing a line, he walked off, leaving the warehouse. Leaving me standing there alone.

  He'd been doing that more and more lately.

  8

  Paddox

  It felt like every fucking time I came home after being with Patrick I was in a bad mood. Once again, I was storming into my apartment, tossing my keys into the bowl and fuming while I stood there.