by Fox, Logan
“Sit down,” Neo said from beside her. Fingers brushed her wrist, but she twisted her hand away before he could get a grip.
The door opened. She didn’t turn to it, but she knew it was Bailey coming inside.
Where was Lars?
She couldn’t think on that—she wouldn’t allow herself to. She had to focus on the here and now.
“One week,” she said, staring straight at Victor.
If he wasn’t part of their cartel, then he would be the hardest to control. And he seemed to be the alpha between the two.
But then she caught the slightest hesitation from Victor. It was nothing more than a shift of his feet, but it was as if he was waiting for something.
Beside him, Owen held his hands casually in his lap. His thumbs had been pressed together to form a steeple, but now he lay them side by side.
“Javier already took our money.” Victor sat forward in his chair, but didn’t stand. “Our shipment should have been delivered today.” Victor cocked his head at her. “We’re not leaving here without it.”
“Do you want your money back?” Cora asked, but not of Victor…she turned her head a fraction and directed the question straight to Owen.
If it surprised him, he didn’t show it. In fact, he could have been a robot in a human suit for the amount of emotion he displayed.
Victor snapped his fingers at Cora. “Hey, you talk to me, girl.”
Cora lifted a hand, knowing both Finn and Bailey would have surged forward at the man’s blatant show of disrespect.
The air in the room changed. Of the five men in front of her, everyone except Owen suddenly looked edgier than they had five seconds ago.
“We can give you your money back,” Neo said from behind her, making her grind her teeth. “But it’ll take a few days—”
Owen got to his feet.
His eyes were level with hers when he spoke, and he faint traces of an Irish accent. “One point five,” he said. And then added, “By tomorrow.”
“But you only paid one mill!” Neo yelled behind her. She put up her hand, but he didn’t obey her like Finn and Bailey. He pushed past her, almost sending her sprawling, and came right up in Owen’s face. “Why the fuck are you asking for another five hundred?”
Owen hadn’t moved. He studied Neo for a moment, and then slowly ran his hands down the front of his suit. “For the inconvenience.”
Then he stepped around Neo, gave Cora a small nod, and left the room with Victor in tow.
She felt dizzy, and not just because Neo had almost sent her flying. Sinking back in her chair, she turned back to the three men. “You will have what you need within a week.”
They watched her for a few seconds, eyes darting from her to Neo. Behind her, no doubt to Finn and Lars. And then, one by one, they nodded, rose, and left.
Neo spun to her as soon as the door closed behind Jamie. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
She looked up at him, moving only her eyes. “Who are they?”
“What? Who?”
“Victor and Owen. Who are they?”
Neo’s mouth moved for a moment, and then he sagged a little. “I’m not sure. I think Javier’s partner sent them.” And then his mouth slid into a tight line, as if he regretted saying that.
“My father?” she asked, frowning. “Why would he—”
“Not him,” Neo cut in irritably. “But from what Cesar said—”
So many questions flooded her mind, but she could only deal with one at a time. “When did you speak to Cesar?”
“Now.” Neo gestured to the floor. “Just before you got here.”
Cora got to her feet, advancing on Neo in two quick strides. It was all she could do not to pull her hidden knife from the corset of her costume.
She couldn’t seem to leave her room without it these days. It was the same one she’d slammed into Javier’s heart, but cleaned since then.
“What gives you the right to start a meeting without me being present?”
Neo opened his mouth, but this time, she wouldn’t let him speak. “And what makes you think you can address me as anything less than capo?”
“I’m capo too—” Neo began.
“When we’re discussing cartel business,” Cora said, raising her voice over his, “You will not call me as your wife.” She stabbed a finger in his chest.
Neo took a step back, blinking at her in obtuse incredulity. “But you are—”
“And I am not Elle,” she said, emphasizing the point with another prod of her finger.
Neo’s lips lifted in a snarl.
“I am La Sombra. That’s how you address me, or don’t address me at all.”
Neo surged forward, but just as quickly Finn shouldered his way between them. Neo immediately lifted his hands, taking a step back again as he glared at Cora around Finn’s shoulder.
“I was trying to help you,” he said. “Now you’ve fucked us both.” He swept a hand to the side. “Where in the hell are we going to get one point five million by tomorrow?”
He didn’t mention the heroin she’d promised Cesar, Jamie and Tomás…but she wasn’t going to remind him about it either.
“Did it look like they were going to negotiate?”
“Dona Cora,” came a quiet voice behind her.
She turned to face Bailey, her mouth working for a second before she could manage a rushed, “What?”
“We need to find out who they work for. That might give us some kind of direction.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked, noticing Bailey’s uneasiness in the way he kept clasping and unclasping his hands.
He looked about to say something, but then gave his head a shake. “Let me leave. I’ll see what I can dig up by tomorrow.”
She drew a deep breath. “No.”
Finn touched her arm. “If he can find out—”
“I said no,” Cora repeated slowly, not looking toward Finn. “We don’t know if they’ve left. I won’t have you running out here making them think they’ve got us spooked.”
She stepped up to Bailey, and gave him a warm smile as she smoothed down the lapels of his suit. “No. You’re going to come dance with me. We’ll sort this out tomorrow.”
“We might be out of time by then,” Finn said, but quietly.
Cora lifted her chin, giving Neo a scathing once-over that made the man’s lips press into a thin line. “It’s my birthday,” she said. “And I plan to enjoy it.”
19
Simon says
“Jesus, look at that queue!” Lars said. He could easily see over most of the guests who had lined up at the bar beside the buffet table in the hotel’s dining room.
“I think I’m going to die if I have to wait that long.” Dean grabbed his elbow. “I’ll even drink fucking tap water right now.”
Lars glanced around, but even the resident hovering waiters with their trays of champagne glasses were nowhere in sight.
“I’ve got a plan,” Lars said, ducking conspiratorially close to Dean so he could murmur to him. “I got access to the kitchen. Let’s see what they got in back.”
“Sonofabitch!” Dean clapped a hand over his chest.
Lars quickly wet his lips before turning to lead the way. Was it just the weed, or was he getting some seriously bi vibes from his guy?
True, they were both stoned as fuck, but there was something about him…
Lars pushed through the back of the dining room and into a small servant’s hallway that led straight to the bowels of the hotel. He’d been this exact way earlier, when Ana had disappeared to the kitchen for something and he’d had to track her down to get the guest register from her.
Two waiters came past them, both loaded down with more food for the buffet.
None with anything liquid.
Christ, his mouth was cork-dry.
Dean’s shoes rang out on the linoleum floor. Here, the hotel looked almost brand new with its freshly painted walls and industrial flooring.
Lars pushed through the double swing doors leading into the kitchen, blinking as light blazed into his eyes. Several chefs and kitchen staff bustled past carrying steel trays. The air was humid with the smell of roasting meat and garlic.
Glancing over his shoulder, Lars beckoned Dean through the throng of people and down a narrow passage. The door of a cold storage unit appeared on the right. He opened it, gesturing Dean inside.
Their breath misted, cold clamping over Lars’s body like a glove.
“Take your pick,” he said, waving at the row upon row of liquor, wine, and mixers. “And hurry—I’m about ten seconds away from getting blue balls, and not for the usual reasons.”
Dean laughed, and grabbed the closest bottle of mix—soda water. Then they hurried out of the fridge and stood for a moment toe-to-toe in the passage outside.
“Uh…where—” Dean began, looking hesitantly back to the kitchen.
Too noisy. Too busy. He wanted quiet right now. Quiet, and half that bottle of soda water.
Lars pointed to the right. “That door goes outside.”
“Yeah, perfect,” Dean said, and headed straight for it.
Cool air washed over Lars as they stepped outside. The sun had set, but the sky hadn’t yet turned dark purple. The evening star was out, along with a bloated moon hanging low in the sky.
“Full moon,” Lars said.
“Perfect timing, what with it being Day of the Dead and all,” Dean said. He twisted open the bottle of soda water and chugged at it, lifting the bottom half of his mask to do so. Then he handed the bottle to Lars.
“Guess we don’t need these,” Lars said, lifting his mask off his head. It was giving him a head ache, anyway, much as he loved the way it looked on him.
Dean shrugged. “Isn’t it like bad luck to take off your mask at a masquerade?”
“Doubt it,” Lars said through a laugh. “Else no one’s getting head.”
It was an idiotic thing to say, of course, but the words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Dean had been looking at the moon, but he dropped his head when Lars spoke and then slowly turned back to him. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, sounding a little uneasy. “So, uh…”
Fuck, had he ever been wrong. “You wanna head back inside?” Lars handed back the bottle and turned for the door.
Dean caught him just above his elbow. “Actually…”
Lars turned back, frowning. It was weird, trying to suss someone out when they were wearing a mask. All he had to go on was the guy’s eyes.
Those hazel eyes shifted. “I, uh…I wanted to know if, maybe—”
The kitchen’s back door flew open, and Dean cut off as a woman in a hair net stormed past them with a garbage bag. She took them in with a hesitant smile, tossed the garbage in a nearby dumpster, and headed back inside as she slapped her hands together.
“Hey, over here,” Lars said. It was his dick doing the talking, of course, not him. He had Cora and Finn and…well, Bailey too, waiting for him inside the hotel, but he’d always been a slave to his curiosity. It had gotten him into the worst messes of his life—but, at the same time, had been responsible for some of the best times of his life too.
A blessing and a curse.
Lars led Dean around the corner. Here, a wall soared up behind them and, a few paces away, the wire link fence surrounding the hotel’s grounds. Weeds and grass fought valiantly for the space between the flagstones. The closest windows were those on the first floor—and each of them dark and desolate in the deepening twilight.
Fuck, maybe this place was haunted.
“You were saying?” Lars asked, as soon as they both came to a stop.
Dean looked away, toying absently with his bottle of soda water. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the gift box again.
“Do you think I should give this to the capo, or is there like a gift table or something?”
Lars’s mind reeled for a moment before he could figure out what the guy was asking.
“Oh,” he said. “I…I don’t think there’s a table.”
“You know the capo, right? The one whose birthday it is?”
“Yeah,” Lars answered without thinking. “I mean, everyone does,” he correctly lamely.
“I don’t,” Dean said through a laugh. “But I’ve heard some pretty fucked up shit.”
“Yeah?” Lars grinned. “Like what?”
“Hold up,” Dean said, rummaging in his pockets again. He took out a joint, but it was poorly rolled and looked like it had only barely survived Nam and a tour through Iraq.
“It’s cool,” Lars said, touching his fingertips to Dean’s hand and pushing the joint away. “I got another.”
“More of that shit we smoked earlier?” Dean asked, sounding in awe.
“Yeah,” Lars said, voice muffled around the joint. “Cartel weed rocks.” He lit it, took a long drag, and handed it to Dean, the cherry pointing back to himself.
Dean took it, their fingers fumbling around the small joint, and drew another one of his impressive lung fulls.
“So, I heard she offed El Guapo,” Dean said, voice tight as he held in the smoke.
Lars hit the joint, and gave a nod. “She sure did.”
Dean watched him for a second, and then blew out a huge cloud of smoke. “Wait…you were there?”
“Fuck yes,” Lars said, still nodding. “It was brutal.”
“What did she…I mean, I heard she carved out his eyes.”
Lars laughed. And then couldn’t stop. He tried handing the joint back to Dean, but they fumbled the pass and the joint dropped between the flagstones.
They both bent to pick it up, and knocked their heads together. Which sent both of them into a fit of laughter that had Lars leaning a hand against the wall so he wouldn’t collapse. Dean had his head back, body flush with the stained concrete as their laughter tapered down.
“Christ,” Lars murmured, wiping his eye with a knuckle. “That’s what you heard?”
“That was after she cut off his dick.”
This sent Lars into another fit of laughter, Dean right behind. Lars turned, his back to the wall, and slid down so he could sit before his legs deposited him on the ground.
Dean sank down beside him. “But seriously, she didn’t do that?”
“No, Jesus,” Lars managed. He cleared his throat, beckoned for the bottle of soda water, and nearly emptied it. He handed the last inch back to Dean as he let the liquid fizz away in his mouth. Then he swallowed hard and said, “She stuck him in the heart, sliced his throat, and then kind of skewered one of his eyes.”
Dean’s eyes were wide behind his mask. Lars thought this would bring on another laughing fit, but instead the man took a somber drink of water, lifting his mask and revealing a wide, curving mouth. He looked young, perhaps only a few years older than Lars.
“Mother have mercy…now I really want to meet her,” Dean said, tossing the now empty soda bottle over the chain fence. “Is she as hot as everyone says?”
“Yeah,” Lars replied, sobering. “That she is.”
“So you like, work for her?” Dean asked.
He looked at the man, feeling a prickle of unease working its way down his spine. But then Dean’s eyes glittered as he smiled, and he realized he was just getting paranoid from the weed again.
“I do,” Lars said.
“Could you…could you introduce me?” Dean asked, sitting forward a little like a kid who couldn’t wait for Christmas morning.
“Nah…” Lars waved a hand. “I would, but tonight’s supposed to be very—” he tapped the mask where it rested on the top of his head “—anonymous, you know?”
“Why?” Dean asked. “I’d have thought the two new capos would want to show off. Let everyone know who’s in charge. That kind of stuff.”
Lars shrugged. “I think they’re still feeling out who’s loyal and who’s not.”
“Ah, like El Guapo’s crew. You think some of them are still aroun
d? Like lank pissed ‘cos the new capo offed him?”
Lars nodded, and rubbed his eyelids with his fingers. He wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes were bloodshot. Dean’s looked a little red, as much as he could see through the mask’s eye holes.
“Oh, hey…” Dean lifted a finger and stuck a hand in his suit again. “You feel like partying?”
The man pulled out a small zip lock bag, barely an inch across. Inside were several small off-white pills.
“Molly?” Lars asked, taking the bag from him and inspecting the pills through the plastic.
“Yeah. Good ones, apparently.”
“Shit, I really shouldn’t…” Lars began.
Dean snatched the bag back from him, peeled it open, and took out one of the pills. “I shouldn’t either, but I’ll be fucked if I’m going to hang around here all night sober.” He stabbed a thumb behind him. “You hear that music playing earlier?” He put his hands into fists and twisted his shoulders, mimicking dancing where he sat. “It’s calling my fucking name.”
Christ, it was calling his, too. Lars licked his lips, staring down at the bag where it dangled from Dean’s fingers.
“Yeah…maybe just—”
But he’d been too focused on the drugs, and not on Dean. The man had slipped off his mask, baring a strikingly handsome face. When Lars looked up, he froze.
Dean gave him a coy wink, popped a pill in his mouth, and darted forward.
Their lips met in a violent kiss that Lars reared back from in surprise. But Dean’s hand found the back of his neck, dragging him back.
Bitter pharmaceuticals mingled with weed-sweet saliva as Dean’s tongue slid between his teeth.
Fuck, why the hell wasn’t he pushing this guy away? What was wrong with him?
But his body refused to obey the frantic signals for him to retreat. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of long, dark hair, and ground his mouth harder against Dean’s.
Dean tipped his head forward, breaking off their kiss as they both panted for breath.
Bitterness filled Lars’s mouth, and he hurriedly swallowed the pill Dean had left behind before it would make him puke. As it was, a shudder tore through him, his fist clenching reflexively in the man’s hair.