Page 2 of One for the Money

“You know, I’ve changed my mind,” I announced, causing the two men to pause and look at me. “I’ll let you keep whatever you can load in your truck in the next two minutes. After the two minutes, whatever you’re holding has to be dropped, or I’ll fucking blow you to pieces.”

Both men looked equally horrified at my idea of fun, but little did they know their reaction was priceless. Lifting my wrist, I swiped to the stopwatch app and hit start. “And go.”

Eyes wide, they ran to the truck, tossed the bricks inside, and bolted back to the pile. Two minutes was actually a lot longer than most people thought it was. It gave them enough time to get back to the truck twice and possibly a third if they’d been a little faster. Sadly for them, they made it halfway before I let out a shrill whistle.

“Times up,” I yelled, pulling my gun free and aiming it at the one with the bigger load. “Drop it right there.”

We locked gazes. I could tell he was thinking about taking his chances and running. Part of me wanted him to, just to see if I could make him piss his pants, but his buddy came to the rescue.

“Fucking drop it. Do you want to blow us all up?” he argued.

“She wouldn’t do that. If she did, she’d be killing herself,” the stubborn one countered.

Shaking his head, the smart one yanked a brick out of the mix, causing the other to tumble to the floor. “Yeah, or she could put a bullet through your skull and be done with the whole thing. Don’t even fucking try to be the bigger man here. That bitch has balls of steel.”

I gasped, clutching a hand to my chest. “You know, that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.” Shifting my gaze to the walking-dead man, I cocked my head. “Listen to your pal… he’s right. I might not be willing to blow us all up, but I would one hundred percent blow your brains out if you don’t drop those bricks.”

Muscles tensed as he clenched his jaw, but the man was smart enough to realize I wasn’t fucking around. Dropping the three bricks of C4 he’d been clutching, I jerked my gun, motioning for him to head back to the truck.

“This will be our last time working together. I don’t want to hear from any of you again, no matter who your friends are. There are plenty of other dealers out there who are willing to deal with amateurs like you,” I shared, shoving my gun back into its holster on my thigh.

The smart man tried to hold back his friend, but as the saying goes, you can’t fix stupid. He charged at me, but I merely stood there with my hands tucked in my pockets, staring him down. Just before he was about to reach me, Bear’s hand shot out, wrapped around the man’s neck, and slammed him to the concrete floor. This stunned the idiot, giving Bear the moment he needed to stand and slam his boot down on the man’s face. The sound of bone cracking echoed off the warehouse walls, making it sound ten times louder than it really was.

Letting out a sigh, I focused on the smart friend. “I suggest you leave while you still have the ability to do so. My patience has worn out, and right now, it just seems easier to kill you two than deal with any more bullshit.”

Proving himself once more to be the smart one out of the three, he turned on his heel, ran to the truck, and leaped in before peeling out of the warehouse. A growl followed by another shot told me the idiot was still twitching, but that happened sometimes with head injuries.

“Stop playing with the idiot, Bear,” I called out as I shouldered the strap of the duffle full of money and pulled out my cell to call Ballio. “Balto I’m gonna need you to send two guys out to clean up. Let’s just say the C4 deal went as I expected it would.”

I hung up before getting an answer, knowing Ballio would do as he was told. He hadn’t earned his place as one of my conductors by failing me. Besides Bear, who was quite literally my left hand, I had ten conductors—men who helped orchestrate these deals. People thought it was weird I picked that term for them, but when you think about it, it makes perfect sense.

Being a weapons dealer means I have a whole orchestra of people to coordinate. The timing has to be perfect, the goods must be at top-notch performance, and you must blend it all together so not one note is pulling attention from the plan. When that happens, it’s like a nail poking out of the wood begging for the hammer to come down and squash it.

I yanked open the back of my matte black G-Wagon and tossed the duffle inside. Slamming it closed, the sound was a deep thud thanks to the bulletproof nature of the metal and glass. When I got to my door, Bear was waiting for me with the door open. No matter how hard I tried, I could never get him to let me open a door myself. He was convinced that one day there would be a car bomb or something dangerous on the other side of the door, so it only made sense he should go through first.

Having had the SUV lifted, I grabbed the handle and pulled myself into the passenger seat. Turning to Bear, I noticed he had blood splatter on his face, so I grabbed a napkin and moved to wipe it off. He gently grabbed my wrist and frowned at me, confused at what I was doing.

“You got some stupid on your face. I just don’t want to risk you catching it,” I explained.

Bear glowered at me and shoved me back, closing the door before I could attempt to make good on my efforts. Instead, he took the bottom of his black shirt and used it to wipe his face as he walked around to the driver’s side. Once he was settled behind the wheel, I darted closer and licked the corner of his mouth.

“Missed a spot,” I managed to say before Bear’s hand clamped around my jaw.

Fury flickered in his eyes as he pried my fucking mouth open and used the napkin I’d still been holding onto to wipe my tongue. Still not satisfied, he took one of the many blades we had stashed in the car and scraped over the length of my tongue. With a grunt, he released me, and I pouted, rubbing my jaw.

“What the fuck was that about?” I grumbled.

“You fucking licked that bastard’s blood off my face, Von. What if he has some disease that could kill you? For fuck’s sake, we’ve talked about this,” Bear signed, his body language telling me just how furious he was.

Taking the napkin, I chucked it in his face. “If you’d just let me clean it off you in the first place, then I wouldn’t have needed to sneak attack.”

“It is not your place to take care of me,” Bear shot back. “The debt I owe you is large enough without adding stupid shit like that to it.”

I twisted so I was now fully facing the man and pointed a finger at him. “Stop saying shit like that, Bear. You want to talk about conversations we’ve already had, that is at the fucking tippy top. There is no debt between us, you do not owe me jack shit, and if I ever hear you say one more thing about it, I’ll make it so you can’t use your hands.”

Sitting back in my seat with a huff, I crossed my arms. “Look, I get I’m not the warmest person or one to give a shit about other people’s feelings, but it’s never been that way with you. Don’t you get that you’re the only person who isn’t scared of me or tries to change me? So what if I found you beaten, tongue cut out, and left for dead in a junkyard? What I saw was a man I might be able to save and manipulate into being the one person who couldn’t spill my secrets. The joke’s on me because the one who got manipulated into caring was me.”

Bear cupped my jaw and forced me to meet his gaze. “Are you finally ready to talk about that?”