Page 80 of Bullseye
Lifting her head, she looks at Ironclad. “I know him. So? That has nothing to do with us.”
“Us?” The word is out before I realize I’m saying it.
“Yes, us.” She steps closer to me. “I’m here because Ironclad and I are working a deal.”
The way he looks at her… his gaze running up and down her body… it’s all I can do to stand here and not reach out and rip his small slimy head clean off of his shoulders.
“I was here earlier, too,” she explains. “I beat the crap out of that mountain in the other room. That’s why his ear is bandaged. Now, Ironclad and I have some business.”
What the hell is she up to?
“Seneca, Ironclad isn’t your business partner.” My chest is rising and falling with my rushing breath, but I draw another deep breath, calming myself, and forcing my feet to stay still.
“Who are you to say who is and isn’t anything in my life?”
The way she glares at me… Is she acting? Or does she know…?
“What is it you want, Bullseye?” Ironclad steps up and slips his hand around Seneca’s, holding her hand.
She freezes, and her shoulders stiffen as her body tenses. Yanking her hand away, she whips around and faces him.
“You saw the ripped earlobe on one of your guys and the knife in the knee of the other. Want to experience some of my other moves?”
Hiding my grin behind my fist, I chuckle quietly.
“You are one feisty woman, Wildfire,” he says, licking his lips, and backing off.
I don’t know why I’m surprised she can handle Ironclad just like she handles everyone else.
“She is that,” I agree. “And that’s part of the reason I’m here for her. Come on, Seneca.” I beckon her with my hand. “We’ve got some things we need to discuss.”
Chewing the corner of her lip, she pauses for a moment—no doubt thinking this through—and then steps toward me. Ironclad holds out his hand, preventing her from moving forward. Shit. What I wouldn’t give for my Ruger and Ironclad’s head on a target.
Stay calm, Bullseye. Stay calm.
“What’s going on, Ironclad?” Her voice is strong and frankly, it’s the same question I was going to ask him. “I came here of my own free will. We have things we’re discussing. Now, it seems like you’re saying I can’t leave.”
“It’s just…” Lifting a hand, he runs his fingers down the sides of his goatee. “When you came here, I thought you just wanted something fromme. Now that I see how useful you really are… it doesn’t make sense for me to just let you walk out of here...”
“What’s it going to cost, Ironclad?” My voice is deep, and my heart is thumping in my chest.
“Don Bordono. It’s going to cost Don Bordono.”
I knew it. But now I’m caught between the two of them—each wanting the other dead.
“And what do you want with Don Bordono?”
“Come on, Bullseye.” Ironclad walks to his desk and plops down onto his oversized leather chair. He leans back, rocking from side to side. “You know what I want. Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“I think you do.”
Stopping, he sits up and stares me in the eye. “Don Bordono is getting old. He’s caught in the world of the past. It’s time some new, younger blood began running the show.”
“Like you?”
“Like me.”
“Seneca comes with me.”
