“He’ll be expecting you,” Bruce murmured, now sitting across from us in the limo. I stared at him as he yanked a rather large pistol out of his jacket, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
“I know.” Ezekiel’s face was dark, his eyes narrowed, his brow low. I was getting my first look at the drug lord beneath the gentleman’s mask. He’d been cordial and polite until now, and even during sex had been somewhat reserved. But this was another side of him, a violent and focused side.
“What about her?” Bruce motioned toward me, not looking in my direction. As if I weren’t there.
“Call Roger. Have him pick her up at—”
Bruce interrupted him. “We have a tail.”
I twisted around to look, but Ezekiel grabbed my arm in a death grip. I quickly turned back, my heart in my throat. “Oh, really?”
“Can’t let her out now.”
“So that’s the game he’s going to play, hmm?”
Ezekiel crouched, half-standing as he made his way to what looked like a panel of buttons beside the bar. After he typed in a few numbers, the safe clicked and the door swung open. I gulped at the collection of weapons inside. Ezekiel snatched two pistols, one silver and one black, and slipped both under his jacket.
“They’ll disarm you,” Bruce murmured.
Ezekiel also pulled out a knife, its blade encased in a leather slip. He reached down and slid it into his shoe.
“I’ll have to be clever then, won’t I?” Ezekiel shut the door and sank back down. He turned to me. “I apologize for this. I would have liked to return you to the hotel. However, circumstances have forced me to do otherwise. Whatever happens, you stay close to Garrett and Bruce, do you understand?”
I nodded dumbly, really wishing Roger were here. Roger actually seemed to care whether I lived or died. Judging by the indifferent stare Bruce turned toward me, he would sacrifice me to save his own hind end.
I surreptitiously glanced over my shoulder. A pair of headlights blazed behind us, driving too close for comfort.
“Call Roger. Tell him the circumstances. He’ll know what to do.”
Bruce nodded and raised a hand to his earpiece.
“Ezekiel,” I whispered, trying not to shake in fear.
“What is it?”
“What is going on? I—how dangerous—will—”
“Don’t worry.” His eyes met mine in utter seriousness. “You won’t be harmed.”
“But what is all this? What’s going on?”
“I think ignorance is the best way to go about this. Here.” Ezekiel handed me another knife, also fitted with a leather case around the blade and smaller than the one he’d put in his shoe. “Tuck this somewhere and don’t use it unless you absolutely must.”
Gulping, I took the knife. It was heavy and cold in my hand. It reminded me of the time I stabbed a man with a pair of scissors to get him off of me. He’d tried to get a second trick for free. He might have forgone that if he’d predicted I’d shove scissors into his side. I barely made it out alive that night—hence why I wasn’t fond of sharp objects.
Ezekiel touched my face, more gently than I expected. “Melissa, I mean it. I know what I’m doing.”
I tried to trust him.
The limo slowed and turned into an alley. Immediately my hackles rose. Goddess alleys were eerily similar to those in Metro—they contained trash, darkness, graffiti, and probably someone looking to shoot you in the head. When the limo door opened, I nearly threw my arms around Ezekiel in terror. No. Not into the alley. We were safe in the car. We weren’t safe out there.
When I got out, I saw that our tail had pulled in behind us. Two men in black had emerged, pulling on gloves while carrying guns. I backed away, right into a thick chest. Squeaking, I whipped around. Garrett was staring down at me. For some reason, he scared me just as much as the guys across from us did.
Bruce stepped out of the limo, then Ezekiel. Ezekiel looked as if he were meeting old chums at a café, even smiling slightly with utter confidence. He was smaller than his bodyguards, but he was much fiercer, a man without fear or conscience. Blade, with his tattoos, gold-capped teeth, and flying fists, would be a child with a temper next to Ezekiel, who was dressed like a CEO with not a hair out of place.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Ezekiel greeted amiably. “I suppose you’d like to discuss business.”
The men were now pointing guns at us with the ease of those who regularly used them. My stomach crawled up into my throat, and I found it difficult to breathe. I wanted to hold onto something, someone, but no one reached out for me. I felt particularly vulnerable in my six-inch pumps and black mini dress because both would make it hard to bolt if I had to.
“Put down your weapons,” one of the men growled. “You’re surrounded.”
Ezekiel casually turned around, as did I. There was another car rolling down the alley, and someone’s torso poked out of the sunroof, pointing more guns at us.
“It would seem so.” Ezekiel threw his gun down.
“All of them,” another man snapped. “We’ll be frisking you to make sure, so don’t pull anything.”
Ezekiel shrugged and raised his arms. “Search as you like.”
The men were cautious to approach, but Ezekiel was compliant and silent as they frisked him. I tensed when a man grabbed my arm and pushed me against the limo. I let out a small cry at the roughness of his shove, resisting the urge to reach out for Ezekiel’s assistance. Ezekiel just glanced at me over his shoulder, his face as smooth as always. His eyes said something, though, and I believed he was ordering me to calm down. I swallowed another cry and tried not to recoil as the man’s hands skimmed over my body. I couldn’t remember them being this thorough with Ezekiel, and when his hands fell across my boobs, I tried shoving him off of me.
“You sick creep,” I growled, and he slapped me. I didn’t cry out, though. I felt like I had to prove something to Ezekiel. If he was going to be a blank-faced hard-ass, then maybe I could attempt my best impression.
“Leave her alone,” Ezekiel said, though his voice was neither urgent nor indignant, as if he were discussing the weather. “Do you really think she has much room to hide something in that dress?”
The man leered at me but pushed away, and I pulled on the hem of my skirt with a hmph. He hadn’t found the knife tucked into my bra; for all his groping, he’d still failed to disarm me.
“All right,” the biggest of the men growled, taking Ezekiel’s arm. “Get moving.”
“I can walk on my own. No need to lead me like a dog,” Ezekiel muttered, but the man didn’t let go of him. I saw him glance at Bruce, who, if I wasn’t mistaken, nodded minutely. They knew what to do even though I was left in the dark. I took some comfort in knowing they weren’t afraid like I was.
The building we entered wasn’t like the glittering casinos downtown. It wasn’t a decrepit warehouse one might imagine in a movie scene, but it was made with corporate interests in mind—cheap linoleum, gray walls, and poor lighting. It looked like some sort of office building after hours, so most of it was dark. We were taken into a staircase and ordered to climb. I found it interesting how, even when shoved around by a crony, Ezekiel retained his powerful air.
More men joined us on the third floor, toting big guns and heavy scowls. One of them found it necessary to grab me, though at least he wasn’t feeling me up like the other man had. I fell a bit behind because of my heels, but I managed to make it to the fourth floor without losing either shoe.
We were taken to an office at the end of the hall, this one decorated more lavishly than the corridors that led to it. It had a large window with a decent view of downtown Goddess, an aquarium in the corner, and stained wood floors. A desk stood at the end of the room, and behind it sat Jerry Broderick, Ezekiel’s acquaintance from the fight club, wearing a dark green suit that flattered his trim form. His graying hair was combed and swept into a perfect coiffure, nearly matching the white shoes he had perched on top of his desk. He looked as relaxed and comfortable as Ezekiel, with a silver pistol in his hand and a phone in the other. He straightened when we entered, but he still remained reclined in his leather chair, grinning like a fat king on his throne.
“Ezekiel, welcome!” he cried, throwing up his hands and removing his feet from the desk. He stood, straightening his silk-collared suit jacket. “I’m sorry about the rather cold reception, but one must be careful in this business.”
Ezekiel ripped his arm from the crony’s grasp, and the man allowed it. With a jerk of his head, Jerry ordered the men back against the door. I let out a small sigh when the powerful grasp left my elbow, but my relief didn’t last long. I realized we were standing in the center of a heavily armed circle of drug traffickers. A flush bloomed along my chest, and a thin sheen of sweat started between my thighs. The knife in my bra felt heavy and useless.
“You’re pulling out,” Ezekiel said calmly.
“Shocked? Honestly, Ezekiel, you know I’m a businessman. I go where the money is. And right now, the money is with Blue Kitten.”
Ezekiel sneered. “It has a pet name now?”
Jerry smiled, all white teeth and debonair charm. I wondered if he was married with children. He struck me as the kind of guy who would lead a double life. “I find it rather cute, don’t you? Anyway, it’s been selling well. Flying off the shelves, in fact.”
Ezekiel’s eyes sharpened. “It’s going to get people killed, and then you’ll really have the government shining a light up your ass.”
“If I can sell it, I don’t give a shit who it kills. Do you actually care about your customers, Ezekiel? Have you gone soft?”
Ezekiel raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me, but if I’m not mistaken, Broderick, killing off your buyers is a bad investment. Right now you’ve got these druggies climbing over dead bodies to get their fix, but eventually, you’ll run out of suicidal scum, and you’ll be left with an extinct clientele.”
“The difference between you and I, Ezekiel, is that you don’t take chances. I do. Anyone in this business has to be willing to take the risk.”
“The difference between you and me is that I think in the long term while you gamble away your profits on get-rich-quick schemes. Do you run your oil business like this? I’m shocked it hasn’t gone belly-up by now.”
Jerry sighed heavily and sat on the edge of his desk, dropping his gun-wielding arm between his thighs. “You don’t see, Ezekiel. I know that Blue Kitten will eventually lose its grip in the market when the death toll climbs. I know that the longer it stays on the market, the more notice I’ll draw from higher-ups. That’s why I’ll move on to the next fad in a few months—I just have to stay on my feet. It keeps me sharp.”
“Seems like a lot of work that’s not worth the benefits. I’ve developed a reliable income and a reputation for myself. I’m not going to go skipping around and throwing my money away to anyone who can create the next new super drug. I root myself and I find people I can trust—a system that works and a clientele that will last for years.”
“Amusing, isn’t it? I, the old man, am more interested in the next big thing, while you, a young man, want to stay rooted in tradition.” A predatory smile tweaked at Jerry’s lips. “The problem is, Ezekiel, staying put makes you too predictable. That’s why I’m pulling out of your operation and investing my funds elsewhere. If you want to milk this market, you’ve gotta stay three steps ahead of everyone else. It’s a tragedy, really. You’re one of the most promising young men I’ve seen in the business.” He lifted his gun slightly. “Which makes you dangerous competition.” His arm swung up and he pointed the pistol at Ezekiel’s head. “Competition I must eliminate.”
I watched Ezekiel in horror, waiting for him to show a flicker of fear or doubt that would make him human. But his eyes stayed blank, as if he’d done this before. He wasn’t afraid at all. I could practically hear my bones clacking, I was shaking so hard, and I wasn’t even the victim.
“Interesting that you use the word ‘predictable,’ Broderick. Because either you’re stupid, or you’re mistaken.”
Suddenly, the floor jolted underneath me, and a loud boom pierced the air with such force that, for a moment, I couldn’t hear anything but a soft buzz in my ears. Hot air slapped my back, and once more the floor trembled. I stumbled into Ezekiel, but everyone was moving and shouting and I didn’t know what was going on. There were gunshots that rang out, the signature crackle of flames, and a more intense heat filling the room. I’d collapsed to my knees, but someone was yanking me to a stand. I grabbed at his jacket, assuming it was Ezekiel. But when I looked into a pair of dark brown eyes, I let out a cry of shock. Before I could react, Broderick whipped me around, wrapped an arm around my throat, and pressed a gun to my temple.
I could see what had happened. It had to have been a bomb or some form of arson that started the fire now crackling out in the hall. Three people were face down and not moving, one of them at Bruce’s feet, his neck twisted all the way around. Bruce, Garrett, and Ezekiel had guns pointed at Broderick. His cronies were aiming their guns as well, though they shifted, now suddenly nervous. I could understand. Without guns, these three were only slightly intimidating. With them, the game’s stakes had risen.
Someone was going to get shot. It was only a matter of whom.
The pistol was cold and heavy against my temple, and I closed my eyes, imagining the bullet within the chamber destined for my skull. Oh God, this is it. This was the last night of my life. Ezekiel was in the perfect position to shoot Broderick. So what if I died in the process? It didn’t matter. Broderick had to die, and I was a pawn. I had wasted my whole life for a fancy dress and some authentic diamond earrings. I regretted everything.
“What was that?” Broderick demanded. “What did you do?”
“Bruce and Garrett aren’t my only employees, Broderick,” Ezekiel stated calmly, his gun never wavering. “And Roger is rather good at creating distractions.”
“You son of a—”
“If you let her go, I won’t kill you tonight,” Ezekiel growled. “I’ll let you fly home and hide.”
“Your word means nothing. Neither does she. At least, not to me. But does she mean something to you?” The gun pressed harder against my skin. “How about we find out? Put your guns down, and she doesn’t get hurt.”
Ezekiel did no such thing. I inhaled sharply and bit my lip. I was going to die because some drug lords had quarrels I had nothing to do with. Why had fate destined me to escape death multiple times with clients only to do away with me now? This wasn’t the way I had planned on going.
“So you don’t care about her, is that it?” His arm tightened around my throat. “And here I thought she was special. You’re not one to fraternize with women. How well have you been paying her? I can’t imagine anyone would spend time with you willingly.”
“Let her go,” Ezekiel ordered, his voice still flat and emotionless.
“Put down your guns, and I will.”
I opened my eyes and tried to catch Ezekiel’s gaze. He wasn’t looking at me, though.
“I’ll give you five seconds to decide,” Broderick snapped. “Or the bitch dies.”
“Before you start the countdown, tell me…how fast does it take a message to travel from the brain to the trigger finger?”
Broderick paused. “Stop playing games with me, Ezekiel.”
“Roughly twenty-five meters per second.”
The gun on my temple shifted slightly. “Is this some sort of riddl—”
“And how fast does a bullet travel?”
“Ezek—”
A gunshot rang off, and for a moment, I expected my world to blink into nothing. But when I felt an arm slip from my neck and heard a thump, I opened my eyes to find Broderick dead, with a hole in the center of his forehead.
“Faster than that,” Ezekiel hissed.