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It was the supplier she was supposed to meet. The one who had saved her life. He was talking to her, but for some reason, she couldn’t hear what he was saying—
All at once, the words that had registered were properly deciphered by her brain. “I’m not sleeping with you,” she blurted.
As he stood up, he waved his palms, all just-forget-it. “Like I said, came out wrong. Do you need a doctor or not?”
“Not. Most definitely not.”
It was a surprise that someone in the drug trade wanted to pull the rip cord on a call to 911 for anything, but then he knew she was one of Mozart’s top lieutenants. So maybe he was just preserving the potential revenue stream. If she kicked it, or was taken out of circulation, he’d have to find another contact.
Like Mickie.
As Rio went to stand up, she braced for a lot of pain. Fortunately, it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be, just a matched set of bass drums in her legs. Meanwhile, the supplier—Luke was the name he was using—looked at her like he was expecting her to list to the side and knock herself out cold on the pavement. When she held her balance, he whistled under his breath.
“You’re impressive as hell, lady.”
Whatever, she thought. A couple thousand pounds of metal and glass coming at you gave you wings.
Talk about a Red Bull ad.
She kept all that to herself. “So let’s talk pricing.”
“Um, yeah, do you see that fireball down there?” He nodded to the river, where the Charger had exploded on some kind of impact, and a bright orange fire was showing no signs of burning out. Then he cupped his ear. “You hear those sirens? Shit’s about to get complicated around here, especially because I shot the shooter, even if I didn’t shoot the deputy. You want to talk, we’re going somewhere else.”
Rio hell-no’d that. But not because she was injured. She needed to find out whether the phone call she’d gotten before the shit hit the fan was connected to what had just happened. Had she been a bystander . . . or a target?
“I gotta go. We’ll meet tomorrow.”
Luke, likely not his real name, just stared at her. “You fuck me off, I’ll go to Mozart myself.”
“Yeah, good luck with that. He doesn’t meet directly with anybody.”
“I got special skills.”
“So do a lot of people.” Her bored tone was a cover-up for the stress prickling under her skin. “I’ll be in touch and we’ll try this again tomorrow night.”
And like the Caldwell Police Department patrol units had read her mind, those sirens the guy had pointed out doubled in volume, either because twenty more squad cars were coming in their direction or because the twelve dozen that were on their way had just turned the final corner.
“Suit yourself,” the supplier said. “But I was willing to make the deal tonight—and I’m moving on to someone else if you don’t take more of what I gave your organization last night. Also, you owe me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saved your life, twice.” His golden eyes narrowed. “You owe me, Rio. And I collect my debts.”
“I didn’t ask you for a damned thing.”
“So you’d rather be dead.”
“Than indebted to anybody? You better believe it. And you need me. You can’t do the kind of business you want to with anybody but me. Mozart’s is the only organization that’s going to buy at the levels you’re talking about moving.”
“So let’s get the deal done.”
Rio glanced around, and heard the warning she’d hung up on haunting her. “I’ll contact you at the number I have—”
The man snapped a hold on her arm. “Don’t fuck with me. I have options you don’t even know about.”
Before she could react, he released his grip and walked off, his dark clothes helping him blend into the shadows.
“Dammit,” Rio whispered as she ducked and disappeared herself.
Sticking to the club’s flank, she took out her gun and measured the windows across the alley, the lane behind her, the lane ahead of her. The patrol cars screamed by one block over, and she caught sight of the lineup with their flashing lights as they crossed an intersection she could see through.
Her legs were killing her, her left one below the knee in particular.
A streak of lightning gave her eyes more than the ambient light of the city to go on—and also revealed her. As she sank into an inset doorway, she frowned and leaned back out. A moment later . . . there was another of the storm’s strobes.
“Where did you go?” she said under her breath.
The supplier had somehow . . . disappeared. Unless he’d snuck into one of the buildings? Maybe. That was the only explanation. In the direction he’d gone in, away from the river, there were no corners, no cutthroughs, no going any way but forward for two blocks straight.
