Page 53 of Undertow

“Shaw, right?” Luis says.

“You two know each other?” the man asks.

“Just acquaintances. Met at The Doll’s Den last night,” I say.

“The strip club?”

“Is it? The girlfriend doesn’t think so.”

The man returns my sly smile and waves toward the empty space beside Luis. “Want to join us?”

“Depends. What are you drinking over there?”

He laughs, and I push up from my table to join his.

There are six in his party: Luis, two other men, two women, and my mark, Freddy Langston.

I sense the confusion of my surveillance team two tables away as I make the move. Another McArthur henchman lounges at the bar, but none of them are drinking. They’re watching me, and as usual, don’t have nearly enough strategic brain cells to understand my plan.

Yes, I’m here for the Red Leaf Cartel, but you don’t get in with the RLC by walking up and submitting an application. You get in because they want you in. And there’s only one thing they’d want from a nobody like me: information. The more violent and soaked in the blood of their enemies, the better.

It’s why the first thing I did when I left the hotel room yesterday was start working my way into the organization that controls the US/Canadian border along the state of New York. For years, the Langstons have kept the RLC in check by restricting their access through the land crossings. Helping the RLC remove this thorn in their side will gain me equity.

The problem is, they won’t trust my information unless I can prove it or it gets extracted. Since McArthur is reaching way over his head for this one, I don’t have enough time or resources to prove it. I doubt he even knows any of this. He probably sent me here to knock on the door of the RLC’s headquarters and hand them my business card.

For the record, they don’t have a headquarters and I don’t have a business card.

I try not to think about what’s waiting for me if I’m successful. I knew the second I saw the assignment there’d be no easy win for this one. I will suffer, but as long as I’m the one strapped to a chair and not someone I care about, I can handle the pain.

It only takes three days to manipulate my way into that chair.

Two to convince the RLC I’m worth their time.

One to seal the connection with my blood.

Nine to recover.

A lifetime of permanent scars.

10

SINISTER DELIGHTS

“I have nothing to say to you,” I growl at Scarlett as she approaches. I continue staging my crime scene so I don’t have to deal with her right now.

“I warned you not to mess with me,” she says in a coy tone. “Revenge and freedom, a solid two-for-one. I thought you’d be impressed. I’m getting almost as efficient as you.”

I shake my head, refusing to engage. I’m busy anyway. Too busy for soap opera drama I never asked for in the first place.

“What is all this?” she continues. “Is it a good idea to have so much cash out in the open?”

I glare back at her, even more annoyed that she’d question me. I preferred the gloating.

“What I’m doing doesn’t concern you. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here. How’d you get past Abe? He’s supposed to be guarding the door.”

She returns a venomous look I know well. “You don’t get to tell me where I can and can’t go. And I hate to break it to you, but no one was at the entrance of the wine cellar.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, spinning back to my display with sudden urgency.

---