Page 64 of Bad Men

I felt nothing dismounting my bike. My boots ground into the sandy floors of the warehouse. I peeled my helmet off and set it on the leather seat and surveyed the vacant space.

The lingering stench of month-old tuna in the hot sun clung to the walls, twisted around the steel beams overhead and wafted across the concrete. I’d never been there before, but the faded sign over the loading docks I’d passed driving in declared it an old packing factory for cat food. As far as I knew, neither Eduardo, nor Alejandro had a feline pet.

“Nero.”

From the floor above, Alejandro motioned me to join him on the platform. He seemed to be alone, nevertheless, I made my way up with one hand on my gun and both ears open for even a hint of an ambush.

“You wanted to see me?” I said once we were standing on the catwalk overlooking the warehouse below.

His cool, dark eyes measured me, taking in the hand on my gun before focusing on my face. “There’s no need for that. If I had wanted you dead, I would have killed you before you got off your bike.”

I offered an inclination of my head that I understood but maintained my stance; he may have been my boss, but he was an assassin first. If he were there to take me out, I wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

“What can I do for you?” I asked instead.

If he were capable of something as basic as amusement, I could have sworn it flittered across his rigid features before his mask of chilling indifference returned.

“Eduardo wants to buy this location,” he mused eyeing the steal and dust, and cobwebs. “I’m here to gauge its worth.” I didn’t follow the path of his gaze. I never took my eyes off him, nor did I respond to something that wasn’t a question, nor my place to know a thing about. He seemed to realize it when he shifted his chin in my direction once more. “That isn’t why I asked you here, however.” His hand went to his pocket, but I was faster.

My gun was out and aimed at his face.

He froze, hand hovering inches from the material of his blazer. Pits of ebony lifted slowly and fixed on me. His lip bowed in the first smile I’d ever seen on him.

“I’m getting my phone, Nero.”

I kept my aim, finger drifting over the trigger, my breathing steady. “Okay.”

“I’m reaching for my phone in my left pocket,” he declared in the tone of someone explaining a simple math equation to a child. “Don’t shoot. This is my favorite suit. If you put a hole in it, I will be quite upset.”

“Don’t do anything that might make me put a hole in it then,” I countered.

He chuckled, a light sound as rare as his smile. “You have always fascinated me, you know that?” His hand slipped into the pocket of his blazer and a sleek, shiny phone was pulled free. He held it between two fingers to show me before unlocking the screen and scrolling through something, ignoring me and my gun entirely for several seconds. “One of the cleanest records I have ever seen. Do you know how rare that is?” He raised his head and met my eyes. “Rare. Impossibly rare.” He shut his phone off and stuffed it into his pocket once more. “Do you have someone in the police department cleaning up after you?”

Certain he wasn’t about to shoot me, I lowered my weapon. “No.”

He hummed softly. “It’s interesting because people in our line of work, no matter how careful we are, eventually get pulled into our jobs. Bodies get found, questions get asked. Things of that nature. However, you…” he wagged a finger at me, “you have no record. Nothing. Not even a stint in juvie or petty shoplifting of a chocolate bar as a kid. How is that possible?”

“Don’t get caught,” I muttered, annoyance making my voice come out short.

“Right,” he mused carefully. “It seems pretty obvious, doesn’t it?” He took a deep breath when I didn’t respond and cast his attention over the warehouse beneath our feet. His fingers curled around the steel railings keeping us up high. “I had hoped to have this talk after the meeting, but you left so quickly. I assume it was to check on Mia?”

The sound of Mia’s name on his lips made me want to shoot him on principle. My fingers even clenched around the handle, but I restrained myself.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked instead, refusing to bring Mia into any conversation with this guy. He already knew far too much about her. Had it been up to me, their paths would never have crossed. If it had been up to me, he wouldn’t have had a key to our apartment. He wouldn’t have had access inside our place where Mia was. But it was Eduardo’s rules. He liked having access to the one place a person was supposed to feel safe. He claimed it brought everyone closer, but no one was stupid enough to believe that. It was a fear tactic. It was a way to dispose of people who displeased him without drawing attention from the authorities. It only solidified my need to keep Mia away from there, to keep her safe from him and his clutches even if it was too late for that now.

“What is your relationship with Davien?

I frowned, taken off guard by the question. “Davien?”

Alejandro nodded. “Davien. What is your relationship? Are you … together?”

Not that it was any of his business, but I replied, “No. Why?”

A cold, greasy spill leaked into my gut, a terrifying moment of understanding as the pieces snicked into place; he was going to ask me to dispose of Davien. That was the only explanation, the only reason I was brought there, the only reason Davien was the topic on hand.

“Relax,” the snake mumbled. “He’s not the reason I brought you here.” He turned, lightly tugging down the cuffs of his jacket over the gold band of his watch. “There’s an opening on the table and I think you would be perfect for it.”

He could have announced he wore a tutu before bed and practiced his pirouette and I would have been less stunned.

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