Page 4 of Cruel Games

ONE

IVY

“You can’t leave now.If you walk out that door tonight, I swear to you, bitch, you won’twalk back in to a job tomorrow.”

Those were the parting words Frank shouted to me as I hung my apron over a barstool and flipped him the bird, marching out from behind the bar with an air of indifference. It was just a job, after all. And I didn’t have time to mess around. When my whole life’s purpose was on the line, it wasn’t a question of importance. I would find a new job, a way to survive, a way to make money. I always managed to pick myself back up, no matter how hard the blow, without any help from anyone else.

But tonight’s meeting was more important than paying my bills. And so, when given the ultimatum, even though the pay was unmatched across town, the benefits were great, and the other workers were tolerable, I didn’t hesitate to throw it down the drain, just like I had countless times before, all in my search for revenge.

It consumed me to an unhealthy degree. I was probably a walking wet dream for therapists everywhere.

Maybe someday I’d go see one. Get all this shit off my chest.

Or maybe hell would freeze over.

I flipped my phone open again as I walked through the employee locker room. All the waitstaff were women, so we got to share a locker space with the strippers as a perk of having a vagina. I wasn’t complaining. These lockers locked. The ones in the general break room didn’t.

My contact called right on time, and I let it ring twice before I swiped my finger sideways and took her call.

“Bonnie.”

She huffed in annoyance on her end. “What happened to code names?”

“I’m sorry,” I said sarcastically, flicking the code in my combo lock to grab my purse and keys from the little metal box. “B-Dog, go ahead.”

Bonnie snorted her irritation, and I would bet anything the bitch was rolling her eyes where I couldn’t see. “You’re a bitch.”

I was fast losing my patience. “I’m not here to make friends. Either get with it or put that fuckup of a man you call your boyfriend on the phone. I have things to do.”

“West side of the port authority building, in the camera’s blind spots, behind the blue crate. One hour from now,” she snarled into the phone, hanging up on the last word like she was slamming the phone down in one of those 90s sitcoms my roommate was obsessed with.

“Well, at least I’ve got time to grab a shower,” I muttered to myself, sticking my shit back in the locker with a sigh. “Reese better make sure nobody comes through those doors who shouldn’t be while I’m in here.”

I was ten minutes early.Sitting across the street from the port authority station Bonnie specified, I waited until their shitty little beater car rolled into the parking lot, not even bothering to hide the damn thing from the CCTV as they hopped out and meandered right off-camera, looking for all the world like the sloppy, greedy criminals they were.

This changed nothing, but it was something to keep in mind for future interactions. They could be a liability. Cops in this town were lenient because of the Guild, but I wasn’t exactly a member.

Yet.

I slipped through the shadows, managing to get inches from Bonnie’s ear before I stepped into a shallow puddle and gave myself away. She whirled around to face me, screeched, and flung herself backward, windmilling her arms like some cartoon character come to life.

I couldn’t stop the snort that escaped me. It wasn’t like she’dmade it easy. But one thing I’d learned about Bonnie was the bitch was vain. And she hated to be mocked, made fun of, or laughed at.

More often than not, it turned her into a screeching harpy.

And that was bad for my ears.

“Are you fucking kidding me, bitch? Why are you over here sneaking up on people?”

“Call it practice,” I mumbled, licking my lips like a feral dog, baring my blunted teeth to her in challenge. “Now, do you have the intel I asked for?”

Bonnie held her hand out grudgingly at Clyde, her not-so-better half. He had the looks, sure, under the grime he wore to deter people from interacting with him. But the brains of the operation was clearly his girl, even if she was a little off her rocker from who knew what drugs she had circulating in her bloodstream.

The folder Clyde produced was shoved unceremoniously under my nose, damn near close enough to cause a paper cut. “The details you asked for.”

I cracked open the folder and flipped through two contracts, both marked for tomorrow. “This is the only open contract?”

Bonnie’s eyes rolled into the back of her skull. “I did what you asked of me. You trying to find a reason not to pay me?”

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