With A Twist(8)

But now only from afar, I think to myself before shaking my head. I can’t be bitter over the fact that Kyle leads his life and I lead mine. The important thing is that he’s there for me when I need him.

“I know,” I tell him with love in my soul and tears threatening to form in my eyes. “Listen… I need to get going. Packing and other stuff to do. You’ll be the first call I make as soon as this is over, okay? Maybe I’ll even come out for a visit.”

“Before you go,” he says softly. “Are you going to tell me why you want me to call your SAC rather than David if I need information?”

Shit.

I close my eyes, rub the bridge of my nose, and take in a deep breath.

Kyle continues. “And are you going to tell me why you haven’t mentioned David at all in the last few weeks?”

“Kyle… now’s not the time—”

“Spill it, sis,” he orders me gruffly, and I recognize that tone. It means he’s not going to let up on me.

Sighing, I slide my finger over the shoebox sitting beside me. Flipping the top off, I see several photographs inside of David and me, along with a black velvet jewelry box. “David broke off the engagement three weeks ago.”

“That fucking shit,” Kyle explodes into the phone. “What the fuck did he do that for?”

I grit my teeth, because even as sad as I am that David and I are no more, I’m also still really pissed at him. “He doesn’t want to move from Pittsburgh if I get transferred. He wanted me to pull my application from the BRIU. I refused, and he broke off the engagement.”

“What a bastard,” Kyle grumbles. “Let me guess… he couldn’t stand to give up his precious season tickets to the Steelers.”

“He couldn’t give up any of it,” I clarify. “His job, his family… he is Pittsburgh through and through. It’s all he’s knows, and he doesn’t want to know anything else.”

“I’m sorry, Andrea. He’s a fucking pussy, and you deserve better,” Kyle says, and my heart swells for love over how indignant he is. I want to be totally indignant too, but I succumb to moments of utter self-pity that the man I love doesn’t love me enough to let me pursue my dreams.

“Look… I really need to get going so I can finish getting ready to fly out tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says sadly. “We’ll talk more about this when you get done with this operation. Stay safe. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I whisper and hang up.

I tilt my beer back and take another healthy swig. That was the hardest part about going undercover… telling Kyle and knowing he’s going to worry. But I have to put that aside now and start mentally preparing for this job. Because while I’m confident we’re going to take these scumbags down, there’s a possibility things could go to hell and I could find myself abducted and sold into sexual slavery.

And that certainly is not on my list of goals.





Chapter 3





Wyatt





Sitting at the main bar that runs perpendicular to the dance stage, I pour over the inventory spreadsheet before me, actually relishing over this rare opportunity to actually do non-criminal work for Simon. I take note of the current stock of beer, wine, and liquor laid out in neat columns, mentally calculate what will be needed for the week, especially given it’s a payday weekend, and then handwrite out on a small pad of paper what I’ll need to order.

I’m immersed deep in my work so much that I don’t notice Lance take a seat next to me at the bar. It’s quiet in here… just after ten in the morning, and we’re the only ones here. The bartenders and dancers won’t be in for another hour for our noontime opening.

“Need you to audition some fresh talent,” Lance says beside me, and I give a slight jerk before turning my head toward him.

“Fuck, man… gave me a heart attack,” I grumble good-naturedly.

Lance snorts out a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Oddly, I’ve become sort of friends with Lance. Well, my alter-ego Raze has become friends with him. He’s a morally depleted criminal who helps his boss sell women as slaves for a living, and yet, while immersed deep in the role as a criminal myself, I’ve found that we’ve forged a tentative sort of friendship. He’s sharp, witty, and loyal, which makes it easy to find something in common I can hold on to. He’s also coldhearted, dangerous, and my enemy… something I never let myself forget.

“What kind of talent are you looking for?” I ask as I swivel my bar stool to face him. Even though we’re the only ones here, I keep my voice low.