“What the fuck do you want, Milo?”
“Are you still in that frou-frou beach town? Belle Argo, Florida?”
He’s silent for a second. “How did you know that?”
“I keep tabs. Duh. What’s that saying? You save someone’s life, so you own it?”
“Man, I don’t fucking know. Big words for someone who roams the countryside looking for souls to steal.”
“Says the guy who pretends to enjoy working for a criminal where it’s a hundred percent humidity. And at least I’m making a good living.”
“You say living, but I think you mean the opposite.”
“Dick.” I’m trying to bat Jalen’s words away. I don’t like how they land. “Are you, of all people, really going to lecture me on my life choices?”
“Hey, Milo, why don’t you get to what you need before I track you down and put a bullet in your head to stop your yapping?”
Cutting my gaze to the man on the bed with a bullet hole in his head, I can’t help but laugh. “I’m in town and I need to find someone. Rowan Rangecroft. Heard of him?”
Another silence stretches out too long. Which tells me at least half of my answer. “Why are you looking for him?”
“Why do you think?”
“He’s one of my boss’s guys, which means he’s off limits. You come after him, I’ll have to come after you.”
Great. The last thing I need is to start some kind of turf war. “One of your boss’s guys. I thought your boss was a dealer. He’s also a pimp?”
“Drugs, loans, a few other things. He’d probably say he’s more of a Renaissance man.”
Okay, well, I’ve officially reached the limit on my small ration of giving a shit. “Look, I’m not going to hurt him.” Not yet anyway. And if I’m being honest, I hope I don’t have to. “But I do need to find him. I need to talk to him.”
My gut says he won’t blab about what happened here, but people can be unpredictable. And also? Until I get confirmation on my suspicions, he’s still my mark. Not that I’m sharing that part with Jalen.
On the other end of the call, Jalen is silent. Before he can say anything else, I add, “I could also use a safe house, if you’ve got one. Until I work out who sent me after him and why.”
“My boss is going to want to know.”
“Figured. The person who placed the order stated that Rowan was armed, dangerous, and carrying sensitive information. They lied about at least part of it.”
“We talking about the same Rowan? Red hair, grumpy, kind of shy? If anything, the kid’s on the naive side. Not sure about his history, but he seems sheltered and jaded all at the same time.”
Something uncomfortable worms its way through my belly. Something dangerously close to a sympathy I can’t afford to feel. “What kind of sensitive information would he have?”
“Aside from the same kind of sensitive information any of Brennan’s escorts would have? Fuck if I know.”
That information only makes my suspicions stronger. But if Rowan hasn’t done anything to warrant sending someone after him, what the hell am I doing here?
As I scan the room one last time for anything I might have left, I spot a necktie Rowan must have dropped in his rush to leave. I stuff it into my backpack and pull up the hood of my sweatshirt.
Chances are nobody will find this body until housekeeping shows up the next morning, but I’ve already been here too long.
“Look, I need to get out of here. Can you help me or not?”
Jalen’s sigh fills my ear with static. “I’ll text you a location.”
“And Rowan?”
“I don’t know exactly where he’s staying. I’ll have to ask around.”
