Page 22 of Cold as Stone
KYA
My first week as the owner of Devil’s officially ends with me flopped on my couch surrounded by crumpled receipts and ledger sheets that make about as much sense as quantum physics. The light from my laptop casts a blue glow across the chaos of my small living room.
I didn’t have the stomach to stay in Mom’s trailer—not with the smell and memories—so I’d rented a small cottage on the edge of town. It’s nothing fancy, just a one-bedroom with creaky floorboards and a temperamental water heater, but it’s clean and it’s mine. For now, at least.
My phone buzzes, dragging me from the edge of sleep. I blink at the screen, surprised to see Mercy’s name.
Mercy
You alive, boss?
Kya
Barely. Why?
Mercy
Need your sign-off on an order. Plus Duck just called. MC needs a favor.
I frown at the message. A favor? From me?
Kya
Did he say what about?
Mercy
Nope. Just asked if you could call him ASAP.
Kya
Thanks. Approve the order. I’ll give Duck a call.
I’m about to set the phone down when it rings.
“Hello?”
“Kya.” Duck’s gravelly voice fills my ear. “Got your number from Devil. You got my message?”
“Yeah. How can I help?”
“We need your backroom for a few hours. And your discretion.”
I frown, drawing a pattern in the rug with my big toe. “Is it illegal?”
“No.”
“Is it going to get me in trouble with anyone?”
“Not if we can help it.”
I close my eyes, sighing heavily. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is club business. It’s sensitive but there won’t be blowback. Promise.”
I barely resist sighing once more. “Fine. But I’m charging you double for the room. Consider it danger pay.”
He chuckles. “You do that, sweetheart.”
