Page 49 of King's Barber
10
Quain
I staredat my phone longer than I should have. I knew what I needed to do, but I didn’t want to do it. Luke’s dad had been right, someone was gunning for him, and now I had to bite the bullet and admit it to him.
“It’s not going to make the call by itself,” KC said as he slammed a plate with a cut sandwich on the island in front of me.
“If I stare at it long enough, it might magically do it.” I gave him a smile in thanks and grabbed one of the squares of bread. I didn’t lecture him on not cutting it diagonally like I usually did because it still tasted amazing, and I wasn’t in the mood to tease him. We’d always argued over whether to cut in squares like he preferred or diagonally like I did.
“You were wrong, Pa. Someone tried to kill him. Make the call and get it over with.” KC brushed his hands together and crumbs scattered across the island. He grabbed a wet cloth and wiped it up again. “The worst-case scenario is he’ll say I told you so and ask you to stay on and protect Barber.”
“Or tell me he’s finding someone else to do the job,” I grumbled. One thing I hated was being replaced, which didn’t happen often, but there were a few cases where they thought someone else would be better. They weren’t because I was the fucking best.
KC snorted as he dropped into the tall chair beside me and carded his fingers through his dark red hair. “That won’t happen. You’ve been integrated into Luke’s life for too long. Getting someone else that far in would take more time than Barber has. His dad sounds like a dick, but not stupid, if he’s a district attorney in LA.”
“Don’t swear,” I said without any real fight. Sighing, I grabbed the phone off the island, activated the app, and hit Jeremy Booth’s name. It took a few rings before he answered. I placed my finger to my lips to gesture for KC to stay quiet.
“Hello?”
“What’s my name?” I asked in a deep voice.
“Your name is nothing but a figment of my imagination, a ghost.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “Mr. Ghost. Pleasure as always. Is this a phone call to tell me you’re officially done?”
“No.” I kept my composure. A client was never allowed to hear weakness. “Someone attacked your son yesterday. A Mexican from the Reyes Cartel.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out over the line. “I knew it. I told you, didn’t I? They tried to get to my daughter, too. She’s a doctor in Boston, but her husband is a professional bodyguard and he protected her.”
“I don’t care about your other children.” I glanced at KC, and he smiled encouragingly, giving me a thumbs-up. He was always great moral support. “My job is to protect Luke, and I did that. The attacker was dealt with.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay on?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes.” It didn’t hurt that my urge for blood had been sated. There was something godlike about seeing the life disappear from someone’s eyes and that was a power I’d controlled for many years. The feeling was a craving now. “Until further notice.”
“I’ll keep paying you. Whatever you want.”
“Good. You have my details. Continue delivering the money, and I’ll continue protecting him.”
“Are you sure he was from the Reyes Cartel?”
“Yes. He had the cartel’s tattoo.” I smiled at the thought of him on the floor, those eyes wide, stuck in fear for eternity. Undertaker probably burned him that way.
“Fucking bastards.” He sighed. “Maybe I should call Luke—”
“No!” The sharpness of my tone had him breaking off abruptly. “Luke must stay in the dark. I won’t have you breaking my cover, Mr. Booth. If that happens, I will need to put a bullet in his head.”
“And what happens when all of this is over? You disappear?”
“Yes.” I stared down at my sandwich with my favorite fillings—ham, cheese, and tomato—and picked up a piece. How normal my life was outside of my job. Here I was sitting in my kitchen with my son while my client on the other end of the phone line talked about cartels and death. Booth had no idea how ordinary my life really was. “That’s all for now. I’ll be in contact.”
Ending the call, I placed the phone back on the counter and sighed, taking a bite of my sandwich.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” KC teased.
I nudged him with my elbow and he laughed. “It was horrible. I hate people.”
“You like me and Barber.” He shoved his own square into his mouth, pushing the entire thing in, which had me wincing.
“You, sure. Barber’s a different story.”
