Page 15 of Roses Are Dead
He blinked.
The rest of the room laughed, thinking I’d made a joke. It died down because Wolf didn’t laugh. Instead, he let everyone get uncomfortable, then said, “No shit?” He’d read through my poker face.
I nodded. “She was probably casting a spell or a curse.”
He tensed. His eyes fell to the hammer pendant hanging from the chain around my neck. “On who?”
Sprout interrupted, “Wait a minute, Bear, you didn’t say you saw her naked.”
“I saved that for the man who matters. So, fuck off.” Then I addressed Wolf’s question so he wouldn’t have to dig it out of me like I had to in order to get answers from these knuckleheads. “I’m guessing… Carl.”
“Interesting. He’s due for his second payment soon.”
There was a reason Jackson picked Wolf as his number two guy then passed the mantle of presidency off without looking back. And it wasn’t the same reasons he’d had for VPs previously. Apparently, Jackson had seen the writing on the wall and knew it was time to reach for a higher rank. For that to happen, he needed someone just as smart and just as ruthless in his spot. Wolf’s sharp mind was already weaving my information into a plan. I added my two cents in before he got too far off track. “With the cop in the mix, I think it’s time I go pay him a visit and remind him what happens to snitches.”
Wolf nodded. “I’d say take Griz, but he’s with Jackson. Who do you want with you?”
“I can handle Carl.”
He scrutinized me. “Yeah?”
“I can.” I wasn’t that slow, I wasn’t weak, and I wasn’t stupid. I’d have my Glock as backup.
And if the gun needed a backup, I had my buck knife and my fists. “I’m there to talk and remind him about the payment, not make him piss his pants.”
That argument Wolf could get behind. He nodded. “Make sure someone is close, just in case.”
For that, I tapped Skinner. Not only was he good at surveillance, but also a damn good shot. In addition, he blended in well. He slipped his nondescript utility van into an empty spot in the alley. He stuck an electronic tag on me. It monitored two things. My heart rate and body temperature. Nothing else. The signal it emitted should get lost in the clutter of smart devices and cell signals nearby. But with those two metrics, he would know instantly if I’d been shot between the eyes.
Behind Carl’s house there were floodlights, monitors, cameras, and Hela-knows what else back there giving him fair warning if anyone approached. They ‘worked better than a dog,’ according to that lunatic.
Funny thing about him saying that, there was a dog kennel in the neighbor’s yard. It had been empty for a while now.
Which gave me insight I really didn’t want to know about the man.
I stood at the back door, staring at the camera facing the stoop.
He’d open the door, or I’d hear the front door open if he rabbited. I didn’t need to knock, did I?
One full minute later, he opened the door.
“Hey, Bear, is it?”
Fuck answering that. My name was sewn right over my heart. “Let me in, we need to talk.”
His eyes widened slightly. I couldn’t get a bead on whether he was surprised or scared. I was hoping for both. And I wasn’t asking. I was telling. Maybe that pissed him off?
I pushed past him and strode through the enclosed porch and into his kitchen. There was a pot simmering on the stove. Stew, by the smell of it.
The house felt different since my last visit. Instead of the tension of factions wondering if they could trust each other not to screw the other over, it felt…
Homey?
What the fuck?
I realized it was because of the smells. Not only was a pot of stew simmering on the stove with the promise of slowly tenderized, savory beef scenting the air, but there were layers to the aromas.
Freshly baked bread and clean surfaces. Those were highly unusual smells for Carl’s house. Sure, he liked things clean, but it was never truly this clean.
