Page 53 of Fixed Asset

I didn’t think that was a good idea. Pete might think he knew Cat, but he did not. Shit could get out of hand quickly if she was left in charge.

“Messy,” Mase rightly noted. “I like it.”

“How about you don’t knock the shit out of him until we completely hear him out,” I suggested.

“Since when are you a stick-in-the-mud? I think I get at least one to the face for having to cut out a tracking device and one to the solar plexus for the burn of the glue.”

I wasn’t a stick-in-the-mud, I was a man attempting to control my temper. And if Tom was stupid enough to hit Cat back, I’d slice his throat.

“Suit yourself, baby. But warning—he swings back, he doesn’t leave here breathing.”

“Aw, that’s the most romantic thing a man’s ever said to me.”

Smart-ass.

“You know me. All hearts and flowers.”

I watched her cheeks tinge pink.

“I feel like we’re missing something,” Mason put in.

Thankfully Pete cleared his throat, reminding the team we had company.

“Aiden, you’ve got the back. Ryan, let Tom in and take the front. Fire only if fired upon,” Pete ordered.

Both men immediately broke away to their positions.

Fallon moved to lean against the wall next to the back door that would give him clear line of sight to Aiden. Mason moved to the opposite side of the room, giving him a view of the front door. If someone slipped by Ryan, Mase would see them enter.

Berta and her men retook their chairs. However, Berta kept the Desert Eagle on her lap.

I heard footsteps on the tile floor right before an older man who looked near retirement, if the white of his hair didn’t betray his age, entered the room. He was still fit but lacked the power of a younger man. Straight posture, chin high, strides confident like he thought himself important.

“Catarina,” Tom greeted with a smile. “Glad to see you’re well.”

“I’ve been told I can’t shoot you until I hear you out. But now that you’re standing here, I’m remembering how supremely pissed I am at you. I trusted you, and you screwed me over. My suggestion—start talking before I forget I’m supposed to listen to what you have to say. But just so you know, before you leave, I’m punching you in the face.”

Tom smiled like he was proud. “May I sit?”

“Will it make you hurry to the part where you tell me why you lied to me?” Cat returned.

“Always so impatient.” Tom shook his head and moved around the furniture, sitting on the smaller couch. “I’m sorry, Catarina, but this is important, and I needed all of you in the same room.”

“Why not just ask for a meeting like a normal person?”

Tom glanced over at Pete.

“It needed to be a private conversation,” he amended. “You know, plausible deniability and all that.”

“Right. Plausible deniability,” Pete spat. “In other words, this isn’t a private conversation, it’s you wanting a fucked-up favor, and when shit goes sideways, you get to keep your hands clean.”

“Yes, Saint. I have a favor, one I believe will benefit you as much as it will me. This conversation goes no further than this room. Actually, this conversation never happened.”

I saw the tic in Pete’s jaw. Plenty of people back in San Diego called him Saint. I found it interesting that all his employees at the Dirty Plank called him Saint and not Pete, even though all the guys called him Pete while at the bar. He hadn’t minded when Berta called him by his given name. However, for some reason, he didn’t like Tom using it.

“Get on with it,” Pete sighed.

“Rafael Quintero.”