Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(101)
He laughs. “If I had a dollar for-” He trails off and then chuckles. “Well, I’d be me.”
I stand quickly and storm back towards the front door of the apartment. “Well go be you somewhere else, dickhead.”
The actual genuine shock on his face is almost worth the price of my dignity and my embarrassment, but not quite. “Aww, now Quinn, don’t be-”
“Out.”
“I mean I can stay if you think it’ll help you out, back in the bathtub with your little friend here-”
“OUT.”
Logan shuts his perfect mouth and nods slowly before he wincingly stands and shuffles towards me and the door I’m holding open.
“You forgot your shirt, Rocky.”
He grins as he passes me, leaning in so close to my ear that I feel a shiver at the heat of his breath, hot on my neck. “Keep it, darlin.”
“Out.”
“Fine.”
Chapter Eleven
“Do you like it here?”
I shrug. “Room and board while on active duty, and the pay’s pretty decent.” I strap up my gloves, warily eyeing the guy easily two and a half times my age lacing up his own. “Listen, pal, you sure you actually wanna do this spar match? I’m kinda, uh, good.”
The older guy with the silvered beard grins at me, taps his gloves together almost like he’s eager, and steps into the dirt circle. “Hoo-rah, Marine.”
I freeze for a second before I whip my head around to stare at him. “What’d you call me?”
Ok, so I’m hardly the only ex-U.S. Military who works for Blackriver, or even the only guy who may or may not have walked away from duty before getting here. But, it’s pretty much on the list of “never talk about” when you’re living with a bunch of roughneck, battle-hardened mercenaries like the guys here.
The old guy smiles at me. “Like I don’t know another jarhead when I see one.” He pulls up the sleeve of the t-shirt he’s wearing, showing me the faded eagle, globe, and anchor tattoo there.
Ok, didn’t see that coming. Still, I shrug and brush off his Marine reference. “Nah, I was a cop back home before this.” It’s half true. Okay, more like a quarter true, at best. I never even went out and took the test or anything.
The older guy nods, but there’s a smart glint in his eye that says he doesn’t buy a word of that bullshit. “Hey, I don’t need to know.”
That’s right, he doesn’t, I fume to myself. Whoever this old dude is - arms dealer or whatever he is - he’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he can just waltz into camp one afternoon and start playing head games with guys like me. Marine or not, this guy’s asking for a beat down.
“Officer?”
“Huh?” I look up from tying up my shoes to see him studying me.
“In the Marines, I mean. Were you an officer?”
I can feel my temper flare. “Listen, pal, I already told you-”
“Right, right,” He shakes his head. “My mistake, I meant in the police force.”
I narrow my eyes at the old guy;. I don’t know who this asshole is, but he’s got a lot balls to walk in here trying to bait me like this when we’re about to step into a ring together. “No,” I say quickly. “I wasn’t.” I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of asking ‘why’, even if the question is practically falling out of my mouth.
“Ahh, I see.” He says, smiling at me. “You just seemed like the leader type.”
I laugh. “You got the wrong guy, pal.”
He nods, as if internalizing something. “Well, my mistake then. Shall we?”
We tap gloves while I glower at him, and once we’re set in position, I come at him hard. He dodges my feint punch, but then he’s also ducking the second and third ones meant to actually connect. Suddenly, I’m off balance and his glove is crashing into the side of my jaw.
Well, fuck.
The man’s a whirlwind, and I can barely get my own gloves up before he’s got me off my feet and ass-down in the dirt.
What the fuck was THAT?
He chuckles as he pulls a glove off and reaches down to pull my bewildered ass back up. “Not bad for a nosy old man I guess, huh?”
What is he, a mind reader?
“Ok, I’ll bite. Yeah, I didn’t see that coming.”
“Not everything is what it looks like on the outside, soldier.” His eyes narrow for a second as he looks into my face. “I’m betting a guy like you might just take that one to heart.”
“Listen, I’m really not a Marin-”
“Hey, I told you. I don’t need to know, son.”
A week later, I’m dragging Hudson and Bryce with me when I opt out of my - and their - contracts with Blackriver and jump in the back of William Archer’s jeep. I still don’t know exactly where we’re going, or even really who this guy is. But I do know that after two years of looking over my shoulder for the U.S. State Department after ditching out on active war duty, two years of fighting in the mud and the jungles of the worst places on Earth for cash like some sort of honor-less gun for hire, and two years of watching me and both my friends succumb to anger, fear, apathy, drink, and drugs, I’m ready for whatever comes next. And what comes next is William Archer, new names, a new place in the world, and a reset on the game of life.