Carson’s leaning on the far end of the rectangular counter in the hotel’s Mio bar. She’s staring at something fascinating in the bottom of her almost-empty tumbler.
I slide onto the stool next to her, ready to rip her up if she so much as curls her lip. Instead, she glances at me, then back to her glass. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. Her whole face droops. Some of the aggro I picked up from tongue-wrestling Allyson seeps away. “What’re you drinking?”
“Single malt.”
“How many so far?”
“Three.”
“Is that enough?”
She shrugs. I give the bartender the high sign, then finger-circle the white marble in front of us.
After a few moments, she says, “Total goat-fuck at the warehouse.”
“No shit.”
The look she gives me is both tired and disgusted. “Allyson beat you to it, okay?”
This I totally didn’t expect. I’ve been where she is—bitched out by somebody you like or respect—and it sucks. I file off some of the edge in my voice. “What happened back there?”
Another shrug. “Hidden camera. Guy in the office heard us.” The bartender lays down two tumblers with three fingers of brown, neat, and takes Carson’s empty. “Should’ve seen it. It was too easy. But I was locked in on getting in there, seeing inside that conex.” She tosses back half her drink and rolls the rest around the bottom. “My fault. Sorry.”
I never figured I’d hear Carson apologize for anything. “You knew what was in it.”
She studies what’s left of her drink, then nods. “When I saw the vents. Seen that shit before. Hate it.”
“I noticed. Where’d you go?”
“Followed them. Had to see where they went.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. Storefront with blacked-out windows, about two klicks northwest. They went in and never came out again. It’s on the list.”
“What’s that, their secret base?”
“Probably not so secret. Half-dozen of their properties in a three-klick radius. They may handle their own security, cut the cops out. Maybe there’s more of them around.” She finally looks at me with bleary eyes. “Shouldn’t have left you like that. Didn’t even think about it, just went after them. Came back for you, but you were gone already.” She frowns. “You okay? What happened to your lip?”
Our boss tried to eat my face. No, we won’t go there.
I shrug and take a sip from my glass. I’ve never liked whiskey, but I’ll get by. “I’m tired. My feet are sore. I’ll survive.” I hesitate. “I had a talk with Allyson, too.”
“Yeah?”
I lay the new work phone on the counter. She glances at it and nods. Now’s not the time to mention leaning on Allyson to come up with more information and more money. Carson will find out if it happens. “She asked me if I can still work with you.”
She looks down at her crossed hands. The quiet resignation on her face almost makes me feel sorry for her.
“I told her it’s useless to split us up if you’re going to be following me around to get to ‘your own end state.’”
Carson nods once, finishes her drink. “She tell you what I’m doing?”
“No, it’s all still very mysterious. She’s holding out on us both, you know.”
“Just figured that out, eh?”
I hear the you idiot she doesn’t say. She must be feeling better. “Why does she do that? What does she get out of it?”
Carson sits there playing with her glass for a while. Then she snickers. “It’s so you don’t try to scrape your skin off when you suss out who you’re working for.”
That burns going down. “All of Allyson’s clients are slimeballs?”
“Not all. Some are legit. She takes pro bono work sometimes when it interests her, or she can work an angle. But the rest…”
It’s one thing to have this scurry around the dark corners of your brain; it’s a whole other thing to have somebody turn on the spotlight. I know better than to ask, but I have to. “Do you know who we’re working for now?”
She looks up at me, sad and tired. “Knowing never helps, it makes things harder. Just—”
“That ‘for your own good’ thing? It always pisses me off. Just so you know.”
Her eyes harden. “Wouldn’t change anything anyway. Do the job. Let Allyson deal with the clients. Better not to know.”
“Is this why she thinks you’re so loyal? You don’t ask questions?”
“She thinks lots of things.” Carson scrubs her face with her palms and leans against the bar again.
Meaning…? She’s so carefully not answering my questions that she must have the answers. But too much has flown at me already today and I need time to sort it out. Carson will keep. “We’re not done.”
She sighs. “I know.”
One of those endless, painful silences thuds down between us. We spend what seems like forever trying not to look at each other, and ending up constantly looking at each other. At last I say, “What did we find at that warehouse?”
“Depot or transshipment point. Mob’s gotta put its shit someplace. Those women…” She lets out a long sigh. “That kinda shit burns me. Hope the cops do the right thing, send them home.”
“I do too.” I finally finish my drink. I look forward to brushing my teeth to get the taste out of my mouth. “Remember Saturday night?”
She peers into my eyes for a few moments, then drops her focus to her glass. “Yeah.”
“Nothing’s changed.” I slide off my stool and sharpen up that edge I’d dulled a few minutes back. “No freelancing. You get any bright ideas, you let me know. And don’t dump me again. Got it… partner?”
Carson stares at me, her eyes turning hard and flat. “Or what?”
“Do you have friends in the Albanian Mob?” I have no idea what I’m saying, but I’m spun up enough to say it anyway. “Because I do now.”
Her eyes ignite. Kind of like Allyson’s when I told her I wanted her money more than her body. I guess tonight’s my night to surprise the women in my life.
Sweet dreams, lady. “We start at seven-thirty tomorrow. You’re gonna learn about art.”