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“Like my face and arms and hair. Am I too clean? Should I try to muss myself up a little?”
At that, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “Muss yourself up a little?”
“Yeah. So it's convincing.”
“So what is convincing, doll?”
“That you've been keeping me prisoner like instructed.”
“The job was to grab you and hold onto you. No one said I couldn't let you shower and eat.”
“Oh,” she said, looking out the window.
“You alright?” I asked, taking in her drawn-together brows.
She turned back to me with an odd little smirk. “I guess it's as good a day as any to die, right?” As if sensing that was the wrong thing to say, she rushed on, changing the subject. “Did Shooter sound like he was okay?”
“He was poking fun at the guard assigned to him, getting his face bashed into while we were talking. So, yeah, he's good.”
Her brow went up. “Getting beat is... good?”
I felt my shoulder shrug. “Shoot is a smartass with a runaway tongue. If he's still sticking his foot in his own mouth, they haven't broken him yet.”
“Oh. Okay. So... he's gonna be there?” she asked, her words tense. Like she knew that was a bad complication.
“Yeah.”
She reached up, running a hand through her mostly dry hair, making it gently slide back into place. She sighed, nodding, accepting the added trouble. “You'll get him out of there,” she said confidently.
“Doll, it ain't just him I got...”
She held up a hand and it was so ridiculous a gesture (who held up hands to silence people anymore?) that I stopped talking and raised a brow.
“You worry about your friend. First and foremost. Don't go getting yourself in trouble because I screwed up and got myself in a bad situation. This isn't your job to fix this. So take care of your friend and let me handle myself.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked to my front door. I ran a hand up one of the sides of my head, feeling the short hair catch at my skin.
This was going to be a clusterfuck.
I had to somehow protect Shoot. Who wanted me to forget about him and take care of Alex. And at the same time protect Alex who wanted me to take care of Shoot because her plan was to kill herself. Meanwhile trying to not piss off the notoriously mercurial and volatile Lex Keith who was fully capable of having us all killed at once.
Jesus Christ.
I lived through this, I needed to find a new fuckin' job.
Janitor. Used car salesman. Guinea pig trainer.
Fuckin' anything that didn't all but guarantee blood and terror at every turn.
I sighed, grabbing my keys, and making my way outside.
Alex was already sitting in the car, buckled up, calmly pushing back the cuticles on her nails like we weren't very possibly walking into a well orchestrated trap.
If she wasn't so set on dying, she would make one fuck of a good criminal.--
There were two SUVs parked out front the warehouse, empty, the hoods already cool to the touch. Further cementing my idea that we were heading into a trap. Alex didn't look at me as she unbuckled and went to her door.
I grabbed my gun, shoved it into the waistband of my pants and met Alex by her side of the car.
“Thanks for trying to help me,” she said, looking at the building in front of her while she spoke to me.
“Ain't done trying, doll,” I said, but she shrugged, biting on the inside of her cheek. “You ready?” I asked, already all too aware of how well prepared she was to get this done.
“Yup. Let's get this over with.”
She fell into step beside me as I let us in the front door, into the hall, then slowly down the stairs. Beside me, she was calm as could be. No sweating. No struggled breathing. Just oddly empty eyes and straight shoulders.
Meanwhile my heart was a fuckin' jackhammer.
We reached the bottom landing and I could hear voices around the corner. Alex paused and my hand went out, landing on her hip for a brief second. Her eyes went up to mine and she made her lip twitch upward before turning away again. My hand dropped and we moved forward as a unit, stepping around the curve of the wall and into view of the train car.
Four heads turned at the shuffling of our feet. Lex, two of his goons, and Shoot.
Lex was closing in on middle age with dark hair, dark eyes, and a thin build. His goons were big piles of muscle, one ugly with a shaved head and black eyes, one average looking with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Shoot had a busted lip (likely from his taunting of Limp Dick Rick when we were on the phone earlier) and a fading black eye. He was hunched just the slightest bit to his left, suggesting he likely had bruised or busted ribs. But he was alright. And the fuck even gave me a smile and a half-wave when he saw me.
I shook my head and I saw Alex's brow raise slightly, taking him in.
Whether it was because of his manner or because he was a good looking guy, I had no idea.
The train door was open and I stepped through first, Alex on my heels.
“Breaker, so nice to see you again,” Lex said, his slick voice leaving a slimy film on the air.
“Lex,” I said, nodding at him. “Shoot,” I said, nodding at him too
“You must be Alex,” Shoot said, letting one of his panty-melting smiles spread across his face. “Been keeping my brother company?”
“More like driving him up a wall I'm afraid,” she said easily. To anyone else, she seemed as at ease as Shoot himself. But I had noticed that her eyes hadn't so much as moved across the car. She found Shoot and she kept her eyes there. Like she was too afraid to look at the people who held her fate in their hands.
“Well, we're here,” I said, looking at Lex. Wanting to get down to it. The suspense wasn't helping anything.
