Page 20 of Intent to Kill
“I don’t care,” she said. She really didn’t. Turning her back, she began mixing cocktails behind the bar. But still, she watched them both from the mirrored wall in front of her where alcohol bottles sat on a perch. Paul was shrugging at Adam, but the arrogant-as-ever mystery man didn’t look deterred. He looked sold.
She didn’t react as she watched Adam jump the bar, inappropriately entering the area reserved for employees, and pressed his face over her shoulder. It was a challenge for her to ignore how close he was to the back of her body. It would only take one misstep for him to be pressing into her.
“Hey, I saw you race today,” he said, his lips smacking together as he chewed on a toothpick.
Mercedes said nothing, trying to brush him off with the least amount of effort required.
“You left them all in your dust. It wasn’t even a competition,” he said.
“You caught that, huh?” she said, not for a second dropping her disinterested tone. She was certain Paul’s new friends were bad news. Dodging the advance, she set five cocktails on a tray and moved onto the club floor.
Arrogant Adam followed her, jogging to keep up so he could whisper in her ear. “Yet you don’t drive for either of the major gangs.”
Well, that wasn’t deserving of a response. A ridiculous observation, really. She placed some cocktails in the midst of a bachelor party and continued circulating the club floor.
“From what I can tell, you’ve got the skill.”
Mercedes rolled her eyes, but continued to ignore him, pushing through the crowded room. As if she didn’t already know how skilled she was.
“So, my questions is–” Adam started to say before a group of drunk customers pushed their way through, finally separating her from Adam’s impending approach.
She took the opportunity to retreat deeper into the club, letting the patrons block his way. Checking over her shoulder, she watched as her over-confident suitor pushed around the swarming guests. Not wanting to be swayed, he jumped up and began stepping directly onto tables (stepping directly onto tables!) as he hopped over the booths, narrowly missing crushing fingers and drinks, and jump landed in front of her.
“Why?” he finished.
“Why what?” She slammed more cocktails down at a private booth.
“Why don’t you drive for them?”
Mercedes scoffed. “Seriously. You know why.”
“Enlighten me,” Adam said.
Mercedes faced him, holding her empty tray in folded arms. “According to them, the only job women should be doing is one that’s done on their knees or flat on their back.”
He should’ve already known that, but when she looked at him, she noted he was genuinely confused, cocking his head from left to right like a cute little puppy that didn’t understand human words.
“That makes no sense.”
She shrugged. “The way they see it, with their small dicks and even smaller minds, it’s hard to believe I’m capable of anything else.”
“They underestimate you?” Adam asked. He squinted in confusion, and then a devilish smile spread across his face. The wickedness of his grin caught Mercedes’s attention, drawing her in like she was prey, already stuck in a trap and waiting to be devoured by the very lips that smirked at her.
“That’s good.” He crossed his arms, eyes scanning the sky as if he were witnessing a thousand dirty dreams in his head. “That means they’ll never see you coming.”
“What’s your game here?” Mercedes asked, giving him a skeptical look.
“There’s no game. Not with you, at least. I just want you on my team.”
“You want me to drive for you?”
He looked into her eyes like he really saw her. Not the girl slinging drinks behind a bar, not the trailer-raised, penniless kid. But a cunning mind. A vicious driver. He sawher.
“No, baby,” he said, moving close to her face again. “I want you to drivewithme. We go hard and we live to die. There is no in between, if you’re in, you’re in for life. It’s dangerous, and maybe one day we’ll fuck this up but, damn, we’ll go out big.”
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FEBRUARY 1991
