Lover Avenged(31)
Then he was going to nod at Mr. D and the slayer was going to cap Eagle Jacket right under that receding hairline.
“I, ah, I need to lie low in Caldie. For a little bit.”
“Why.”
“It’s not related to the drug dealing.”
“Have anything to do with your roughed-up knuckles?” The human quickly tucked his arm behind his back. “Thought so. Question. If you need to keep on the DL, what the hell were you doing in Screamer’s tonight?”
“Let’s just say I wanted to make a purchase of my own.”
“You’re an idiot if you do what you sell.” And not a good candidate for what Lash had in mind. He didn’t want to try to do business with a junkie.
“Wasn’t drugs.”
“Was it a new ID?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you get what you were looking for? At the club?”
“No.”
“I can help you with that.” The Society had its own laminating machine, for fuck’s sake. “And here’s what I propose. My men, the ones to your left and behind you, will work with you. If you can’t be the front man on the street, you can get the merchandise and they can move it after you show them the ropes.” Lash glanced over at Mr. D. “My breakfast?”
Mr. D put his gun down next to the cowboy hat he took off only when indoors and then he popped up a flame under a pan on the little stove.
“What kind of money are we talking about?” the human asked.
“Hundred grand for the first investment.”
The guy’s eyes made like slot machines, all ding-ding-ding excited. “Well…shit, that’s enough to play ball. But what’s in it for me?”
“Profit sharing. Seventy for me. Thirty for you. Of all sales.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.”
As Mr. D laid some bacon out on the heat, the sizzle and hiss filled the room and Lash smiled at the sound.
The human looked around, and you could practically read his thoughts: cabin out in the middle of nowhere, four guys facing off at him, at least one of whom had a gun capable of blowing a cow into hamburger patties.
“Okay. Yeah. All right.”
Which was, of course, the only answer.
Lash put the safety back on his weapon, and when he put his autoloader on the table, the human’s eyes bugged. “Come on, like you didn’t think I had you covered? Please.”
“Yeah. Okay. Right.”
Lash stood up and came around to the guy. As he stuck his hand out, he said, “What’s your name, Eagle Jacket?”
“Nick Carter.”
Lash laughed hard. “Try again, dickhead. I want your real one.”
“Bob Grady. They call me Bobby G.”
They shook and Lash squeezed hard, crunching those bruised knuckles together. “Glad to do business with you, Bobby. I’m Lash. But you can call me God.”
John Matthew scanned the people in ZeroSum’s VIP section not because he was looking for tail, as Qhuinn was, and not because he was wondering who Qhuinn was going to want to get with, as Blay was.
No, John had his own fixations.
Xhex usually came around every half hour, but after her bouncer had approached her and she’d left in a hurry a while ago, she’d been missing.
As a redhead eased on by, Qhuinn shifted in the banquette, his combat boot tapping it out under the table. The human woman was about five-ten and had the legs of a gazelle, long and fragile and lovely. And she wasn’t a professional-she was on the arm of a business-type guy.
Didn’t mean she wasn’t giving it up for money, but it was in a more legal fashion called a relationship.
“Shit,” Qhuinn muttered, his mismatched eyes predatory.
John tapped his buddy on the leg and in American Sign Language said, Look, why don’t you just go back with someone. You’re driving me crazy with the twitching.
Qhuinn pointed to the tear that was tattooed under his eye. “I’m not supposed to leave you. Ever. That’s the point of having an ahstrux nohstrum.”
And if you don’t have some sex soon, you’re going to be useless.
Qhuinn watched as the redhead arranged her short skirt so she could sit down without flashing what was no doubt nothing but a Brazilian wax.
The woman looked around without interest…until she got to Qhuinn. The moment she saw him, her eyes lit up like she’d found a good deal at Neiman Marcus. This was not a surprise. Most women and females did the same, and it was understandable. Qhuinn dressed simply, but with plenty of the hard-core: black button-down tucked into dark blue Z-Brands. Those black combat boots. Black metal studs running all the way up one ear. Hair set in black spikes. And he’d recently pierced his lower lip in the center with a black hoop.