Page 81 of Wicked Lies

She motioned to the gun he gripped. “I suggest you try a subtler approach.”

“I suggest you get the hell outta here and let me do what I came here to do.”

“I’m not some delicate flower who needs protecting.” She slammed her fists on her hips. Dressed from head to toe in black all he could think of was Cat Woman. “I don’t rattle easy, and I’ve made a life out of negotiating and twisting the truth to get my way.”

“Don’t remind me,” Nick scoffed.

“Did you forget I also ran some of the best cons on the East Coast.”

“Did you forget Frank is a vindictive son of a bitch who tried to blackmail you and have me killed?” He looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t want you anywhere near here.”

“He tried to set me up for murdering Jimmy, blackmailing me, and threatening you? So, yeah, I have every right to be here.”

“You know how this might go down, right?”

“I know the alternatives, and it doesn’t scare me if that’s what you’re thinking. The scams I pulled were more about finesse than violence, but I know the cost of freedom from a man like Frank Barnett.”

Freedom, yeah. His girl didn’t judge. Ride or die all the way, but . . .

Nick spun around and caged her against the crumbling brick wall. “I’m not playin’, Cheryl. I appreciate what you’re doin’, but I want you to take your fine ass outta here. Now.”

Silence stretched between them, and he geared up for a fight.

“I’ll leave, but you better call me the minute this is all over.”

He crushed his lips to hers, taking his fill. Fighting for his woman without having to look over his shoulder made it all worthwhile.

She broke off the kiss and backed away from him. “You promise to call the very minute—”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him again stealing another kiss in a rough, wild attempt to tame her. Impossible. “Get the fuck outta here.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

She stalked off, shielded by the shadows until the darkness swallowed her up. Fuckin’ amazing he would have a woman as ballsy as her in his corner. Another reason he had to secure his future. He pushed off the wall, dipping his chin against the damp wind gusting off the river. The weight of the .45 pressed against his abs as he sprinted up the metal stairs leading to the warehouse, then he veered to the right and bolted toward Frank’s office. He paused, seeing the door ajar, then carefully shouldered into the dark room and froze at the shadow lurking in the corner.

“What the fuck?” Nick flipped on the light and inched further into the office. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

“I came to avenge my uncle.” Alejandro raised a gun, his eyes pinned and spinning.

“You gotta get outta here.” Nick motioned to the gun. “And quit waving that thing around.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I make my peace with Frank.”

“This isn’t the way to do it.”

Alejandro was jacked up and unsteady—a bad combination when adding a loaded weapon, especially when challenging a professional like Frank.

“Carlos never made it home, then the police found his body in one of the containers at the Port of Miami with a bullet between his eyes.” Alejandro’s voice shook with emotion. “I know it was Frank who had him killed, and now I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” Frank loomed in the doorway.

Nick swallowed hard. Of all the fucked up ways for this to go down.

Frank strolled into his office and looked at Nick. “Looks like we’ll have to put our meeting on hold until I take care of this problem.”

Nick edged toward Alejandro. “Why don’t you calm down 'cause this isn’t gonna end well.”

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