Page 5 of Wanted by the Lawman

Striker, who had been standing from a distance up to this point, strolled to the center of the bedroom, looking at Rory with beady, cold eyes that could make a warrior tremble. He’d always wondered if the man wasn’t born from his mother’s womb but the devil’s loins. “Did I hear we have a problem?” Striker reached into his back pocket and took out a switchblade. With a flick of his wrist, the six-inch blade opened, the metal glinting. Using the tip of the blade to clean out from underneath his fingernail, he looked up. “I don’t like problems.”

“What’s the fucking problem, rodent?” Garvey growled.

“The goods…they’re gone.”

Striker paused the knife on his finger and sighed, nailing Rory with a hard gaze. “Gone? As in lost?”

“I had the delivery here. I promise you, it was here last night,” Rory pushed a hand through his hair, feeling like he could vomit. A drop of blood splattered on Striker’s shoe from where he cut himself. He didn’t even notice. “Hey, the rug is Egyptian and it cost a fortune. I don’t want it ruined.”

“Fine. Garvey, take care of the rug,” Striker demanded.

“Will do.” Garvey grinned as if he enjoyed throwing his weight around.

Striker made his way across the room and stopped at the vanity, examining the contents while Garvey rolled up the rug.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Rory started to cross the room but stilled in his tracks when Striker lifted a hand.

“You said you didn’t want the rug ruined, right? There’s always that possibility, and from my experience, a white, Egyptian rug never looks good with a puddle of blood.”

Rory went pale.

Garvey laughed.

Striker picked up a bottle, brought the perfume to his nose and inhaled. “Mm, that’s nice. I like a woman who smells like flowers. I met a woman once while in Paris who smelled this good. What happened to her, Garvey?”

“She cheated on you. She didn’t need the perfume anymore.” Garvey picked up the rug. “What do you want me to do with this, Strike?”

“Let’s see how this goes. For now, lean it against the wall.” Striker set the bottle down and picked up a framed picture of Wynn and Rory taken on their first date. “This is your bitch, Salvano? What the fuck is a sexy fox like this doing with a wet noodle like you? Beats me why she’d marry you.” He shook his head.

Garvey was laughing so hard now he snorted.

“She’s not my wife,” Rory corrected.

“If you’re fucking her, she’s your wife. That’s the problem with the world today. People don’t put a ring on it and then they’re fucking wondering why their sorry-ass is left alone,” Striker snarled. “I guess money can buy a good piece of pussy.” He swiped his elbow across the frame to clean it and sat it back into place. “Question is, where is that beauty now? By the looks of you, and these empty drawers, you’ve been fucked, then fucked over.” He used the blade to point at the handcuffs on Rory’s wrist.

“I don’t have a clue where she went,” Rory mumbled.

Striker groaned then came to stand within several feet of Rory, the blade still gripped in his fist. “It appears you have a habit of losing things.”

“The shit was here,” Rory stammered. “I’ve never betrayed you guys. I wouldn’t.”

“We hear that a lot.” Striker brought the knife up and scraped the blade down Rory’s cheek, drawing blood. The man rubbed the blade across his pant leg. “Looks like you do bleed red like every other mother fucker. The bitch left with the goods, didn’t she?”

Rory’s gaze swept across the room. “No. She wouldn’t.” Yet, he knew she did.

“I see doubt in your eyes, brother.” Striker made a gesture at Garvey who then stepped over to the dresser and pulled out each drawer, knocking them to the floor.

“All empty,” Garvey said.

“Then I guess money can’t keep a good piece of pussy.” Striker exhaled. “Either you’re lying to me, or you don’t keep your bitch on a short leash, my friend. Did she catch your wick in another candle? She decided she’d seal your death?”

“The goods have to be around here somewhere.” Rory swept a hand through the air.

“I don’t think so. I think the beauty took off with our shit. Problem is, no shit, no money. Not good.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Rory stammered.

“Just like she wouldn’t leave you? By the looks of things, she didn’t walk, she ran. It’s possible the sweet princess betrayed you, Boss, Garvey and me. You know that can’t happen.”

“She didn’t know the goods were in the closet. She never knew.” Rory placed his hands on his hips, looking back and forth frantically from Striker to Garvey. “She had no clue about my side job.”

“I. Want. To. Believe. That.” With each word, Striker tapped the knife in the center of Rory’s chest. “But you don’t have a good track record these days, buddy. Your usefulness has been downgraded. And as you know, we don’t carry dead weight—dead weight that likes the sauce a little too much. Too much risk and we can’t have that shit. Not when the feds are sniffing around like a dog looking for a bone.”

“What are we going to do, Strike?” Garvey asked.

“Good question. What should we do, Salvano?”

“I’ll get the merchandise back. Give me some time,” Rory’s voice shook.

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