What?
“I don’t think so. You just hit me in the face. With. A. Skateboard. What makes you think I want to do anything for you?”
Those angry eyes settled on me once again and a chill sped down my spine.
I hitched a thumb over my shoulder and took an involuntary step back. “I have a meeting I was supposed to be at an hour ago.” I backed up another step, my mid-calf boots scuffing against the sidewalk. Luckily no one had seen our little incident, so the coast was clear to bolt. I just had to get Blondie here off my back. “I have to wash my hair. Go to the grocery store. Kill myself.”
“No, no! You’re perfect.”
My teeth rattled as Blondie shook me, my head snapping back on my shoulders.
“We can do this! All you need to do is come with me,” she said, her blue eyes distant as if she were scheming something terrible.
I had a bad feeling about this. I batted her hands away. “Stop shaking me!”
Blondie stopped short, her mouth snapping shut at my outburst. Serves her right. People just didn’t shake other people and demand them to go with them for no good reason. Not at least without offering candy. Her gaze became glassy again.
“Oh, no.” I hated crying women. They made me uncomfortable and tore down every defense I had. My head darted from side to side, my eyes searching for an escape. My bike was parked about twenty feet away. If I ran fast enough, I could outrun the waterworks. “Please don’t cry again.”
I couldn’t handle this. What did this bitch think would happen after she tried to break my nose?
Here come the tears.
“Are you seriously doing this to me? You hit me in the face!” I had to get to that meeting. The meeting with Satan’s Army would redefine the club’s dealer status. As Vice President, I could not miss it and I couldn’t be caught dead on the Strip either. The rules were clear: stay out of Satan’s Army territory. Besides, I’ve had these types of encounters before. Wives wanted revenge for their husband’s cheating ways. All you have to do...blah blah blah. Nothing this double-D blonde said would surprise me, but no matter what hare-brained scheme she had in mind, I didn’t have the time. “Listen, I—”
“I need you to kill someone up for me, Cherry. But you have to make it look like an accident.”
That was new.
I looked at her then down at myself. “You’re kidding, right?”
When I said I had a gangly frame, I wasn’t exaggerating. I could barely even bench fifty pounds and that’s from the one time I’d stepped into a gym. Spying? Sure. I always like a good conspiracy. Picking up a miscellaneous package to deliver? Depended on the compensation. Fighting? Well, let’s just say what skateboard Blondie had used was the most action my nose had ever seen. I wasn’t a fighter and I could barely handle a gun. “I don’t kill people and you might have just broken my nose. What makes you think I want to help you? And by the way, how do you know my name?”
Blondie reached inside that big bra of hers and pulled out a wad of cash. A hundred dollar bill rested on the outside and the anxiety in my chest grew two times stronger. “Doesn’t matter. Two thousand bucks. I’ll give you half now and half when it’s done.” She shoved the cash into my hand and my fingers closed around it automatically.
I could use the extra cash. Vegas wasn’t exactly the ideal place to live, especially for someone who didn’t dance, sing, whore around, do drugs, or party. I’d been planning on leaving some day. The two grand would help. A lot.
“Who is it?” My voice hitched on the last word.
Blondie stepped closer. Her eyes dried up and darted from left to right. She handed me a photo. “Make it quick and dirty. And make sure nothing can be traced back to me.”
I looked down at the photo. My heart plummeted into my stomach.
Cooper.
My bartender.
“You want me. To kill. This guy?” I could imagine exactly how my attempt to rough anyone up would go down: with me on the floor. But attack Cooper? Well... A smile pulled at one corner of my mouth. I certainly attacked him last night. “He’s three times my size.”
“Well, I can’t do it!”
“Why do you want him dead?”
“He cheated on me.” Blondie twirled a fake strand of hair between two fingers.
I shook my head in disbelief. Aside from the stab of pain in my stomach thinking about Cooper and Blondie together, the ache in my face grew to all new kinds of pain as I winced. Without warning, my eyes stung with tears. What the hell was wrong with me? He was a one night stand. I wasn’t supposed to care.
“We’ll talk about this later.” I shoved the cash into my back pocket and jogged toward my own bike.