Page 116 of Creeping Beautiful

He points to Misha’s bar, just a few storefronts up. “Let’s have a drink, Adam.”

I don’t say anything. Just follow him. This meeting is no accident, obviously. If you mention James Fenici’s name enough times to the right people, he will appear like a conjuring at the least convenient time.

I was going to Misha’s anyway, but I wasn’t planning on introducing her to the most infamous Company assassin to ever walk this earth.

He opens the door for me and a small bell jingles above our heads as we enter. It’s early afternoon, but inside it’s dim, and the shadows play against the walls.

I flash two fingers to Misha, who is behind the bar and watching me curiously, then point to a table in the back. James follows me, and for a moment we nearly fight over the chair that faces the door.

I put my hands up and back off, taking the chair with the next-best view.

James leans his forearms on the table, hands together, his green eyes smiling along with his mouth. He stares at me for a moment as Misha appears with two glasses of whiskey. James glances up at her, says, “Thanks, Misha,” and then downs it in one gulp and says, “No more for me, thanks.”

I catch Misha raising one eyebrow at me. But I send her a look that says, Don’t ask. And she takes the hint and leaves without a word.

“Would you consider her a good friend? An acquaintance? Or just a booty call?”

I glance at Misha, who has returned to her spot behind the bar, but with her back to us now. “Good friend, I guess.”

“You might want to rethink that.”

“Oh?” I look at him, not sure what to make of that statement.

“She sold you out once.”

“Once? When?”

“More than once. Few years back. Before everything went down.”

“Well, I’m still here. Must not have been too serious.”

“That’s how she bought this bar, you know.”

“Did you come here to warn me about Misha? Or because I spoke your name to the right people?”

“Both, I guess. I’ve been waiting for you to get rid of her. Thought I’d speed that up a little. Seeing as how you’re starting to settle in here.”

Is he… has he been watching me? I’m not afraid of James. He’s old now. Early forties, at least. I’m in my prime. And I don’t know what he’s been doing for the past five years since the Company fell, but I’ve been busy running shit. Some might even refer to what I’ve put together as a mini-Company—minus all the political connections because pretty much all those people are dead now. And James Fenici might even be one of those people who see things that way. I might not be off-the-rails insane like he is, but I can do damage if I have to.

Still. The thought of him keeping track of me is… unsettling.

“I wasn’t really in the market for some personal advice, James—”

“What kind of market are you in, then?”

“I have a question for you about Angelica.”

And that. That right there. That look in his eyes. Yeah. My stomach clenches up. Because there is something deeply wrong with this man and he might be able to hide it most of the time, but just uttering Angelica’s name brings up the animal lurking beneath the surface.

His eyes are narrowed down into very thin slits. “What about her?”

“Let me just explain that the reason I’m asking is because Indie has told me some things and she brought up Angelica’s name. That’s it. That’s the only reason I’m asking. OK?”

“So ask.”

“Is she working?”

His eyes open wide again. “Angelica?” He laughs. “No, brother. And she’s not for hire, either.”