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This isn’t the time. It’llneverbe the time.
“We need information about Ivan St. James,” Gage says.
“Ah. You and your lady friend here?” Meredith asks, making me jump a little. I didn’t realize she knew I was here.
“She’s not my friend,” Gage tells her quickly. “More like an associate for the time being.”
“She walks like she can handle herself. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they walk, you know. Quick steps or slow ones. Heavy tread or light. I’ve learned.”
“Meredith,” Gage cuts in before I can think of what to say in response to that. “Do you have anything for us?”
She hums softly and then smiles, showing off a few missing teeth. “Might. Just might. Damon Sinclair. Low rent drug dealer from around these parts. He keeps tabs on Ivan, from what I hear.”
“Does he work with Ivan?” I ask, speaking for the first time.
Meredith turns to look in my direction, even though I know she can’t really see me. “Nope. He’s worried Ivan’s gonna kill him for dealing too near St. James’s territory. Helps to know the man’s movements ahead of time so he can get gone when he needs to.”
I smile, pleased at the info. Someone paranoid with a reason to keep track of what Ivan does. That’s perfect. Those are the kind of people who turn out to be the best sources of information, because they gather it to save their own asses.
“You tangling with Ivan St. James?” Meredith asks, turning her attention and milky gaze back to Gage. “You know what that man is.”
“I know,” he replies, not confirming or denying the tangling. “Thanks for your help, Mer.”
She flaps a hand at him and smiles. It’s the kind of smile that’s heavy with fondness, like she loves him and cares about his wellbeing. “You keep yourself in one piece, now. And don’t forget about me.”
“I could never,” he replies as he motions me back toward the door. “You’d never let me, for one thing.”
Her papery chuckle is the last thing I hear as we step out into the hallway.
Once the door is closed behind us, I glance over at Gage, resisting the pressing urge to ask my questions. Like why he’s so at home here, and how he knows this woman. It’s not weird to have informants scattered across the city, but Meredith seemed like more than that. She seemed like someone who cares about him.
But I don’t want to know. The more I know about Gage and the others, the harder it’ll be to untangle myself from their shit when the time comes. It’s not relevant to the mission, so I move on.
We head outside and get in the car, and I drum my fingers on the arm rest while Gage drives, mulling over the information we have now. It shouldn’t be hard to track down this Damon Sinclair guy, and getting him to give me the information I want will probably be a matter of making it worth his while or scaring him into it. I’m not fussed about which route I end up taking.
The slums fall away as we drive, the highway taking us back toward the side of Detroit where the guys and the other people with too much money and not enough sense live. I notice a sign pointing toward a strip mall with a pet store in the distance and grin.
“Take a left here,” I tell Gage.
“That’s not the exit,” he says, his guard back up and the familiar barely there civility firmly back in place. Just the way I like it. “I know how to get back to my own house.”
“I need to stop somewhere.”
“Where?” he asks, glancing over at me with an incredulous expression, as if I’m losing my mind for even suggesting it.
“Pet store.” I point in the direction of the strip mall off the exit. “Unless you want Mick Jagger to eat all your food and slobber all over your dishes.”
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I kind of like Knox’s idea of trying out different names for the stray animal. I’ve never called him anything but Dog before, but maybe I’ll find something better.
“Well?” I press. “What’ll it be?”
I phrase the question like it’s up to Gage and smile when I see him clench his jaw. Saying no just to spite me will really only fuck over him and the other guys in the long run. I don’t care either way. The stray dog is clearly used to eating whatever, so it’s not like he’ll say no to any leftovers I scrounge up from the fridge.
With an irritated noise in his throat, Gage signals and merges into the left lane, taking the exit for the shopping center. I smirk, relishing in my small victory.
“We don’t have all day,” he mutters as he pulls into the parking lot. “I have to get to the club eventually.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I brush him off, waving a hand at him. “I’ll make it quick.”
