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24
River
The next morning,I feel a little bit like I’ve been hit by a car. My head is a bit fuzzy with a hangover from doing shots with Knox, and my body feels wrung out from… everything, mostly.
But there’s an excitement buzzing through me, too.
I roll onto my stomach and root around in the nightstand drawer beside the bed until I pull out the picture of my sister that I’ve kept there since I arrived. It’s a little reminder of why I do what I do, and I like to look at it when I feel overwhelmed. It’s where I keep my list, the constant force that drives me these days.
I trace a finger over her face and then flip the picture over, reading over the six names that are written on the back. Every one is crossed off except for the last one.
So close. I’m so close.
This is almost over.
One more name and then I can finally say I’ve completed my mission.
I drag myself out of bed with a low groan, body protesting when I force myself to go shower. The hot water feels good on my sore muscles, but not so much on the cut from Knox that stretches down my chest, right between my tits.
In addition to that, I’ve got bruises on my hips from Gage that I poke at as I wash up.
It’s weird having those visual reminders of the men. It’s harder to forget that they’re around, and the things we did, when all I have to do is look down and see the evidence of it. I almost like the marks. Almost. It would be proof of a job well done in any other circumstance, but I won’t let myself have that thought.
I dry off and get dressed, heading downstairs.
Priest and Gage are in the kitchen when I come in. Both of them look up at me and then away, and I can practically feel the coldness coming off them in waves.
I snort under my breath. As if I give a shit. I’m happy to ignore them too. There are more important things to focus on today.
After eating a banana so fast I barely even taste it, I fetch my bag from the living room and start loading my gear into it, grabbing a few things I forgot last night from the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Priest asks.
I consider telling him to go fuck himself or just ignoring him the way he would if I asked him a question like that, but whatever.
“Ivan’s having a meeting today. At Romano’s.” I don’t know why the hell he cares either way. “Give us a smile, Priest,” I tease him flatly. “I’ll be out of your lives soon.”
I don’t wait to see what he has to say in response to that. Whatever it might be, I don’t really want to hear it right now. My mind is already racing ahead to what’s coming, anticipating every little detail and eager to get on with it.
Striding from the room, I snatch up my bag of gear and head for the door.
Excitement keeps stirring up in me as I drive to the site of the meeting and park a few blocks away. I walk the rest of the way, then make my way up to the rooftop I picked and get comfortable, ready to wait for this rendezvous to go down.
It only takes about an hour or so for movement to start happening.
People have been coming and going, of course. It’s a busy street. I watch as patrons of the restaurant inquire about the patio only to be directed inside since, like I thought, the whole space has been reserved.
Some of them go with grace, some of them look pissed off.
I chuckle a little at that. If only they knew that the person responsible for booking the whole patio will be dead soon. I wonder if that would make them feel better about it.
It’s easy to tell when the meeting is happening. The cartel guy rolls up first with his entourage, looking around like he’s waiting for Ivan before he lets himself get comfortable.
The host shows him to a table, and he sits, tapping his fingers on the polished metal surface.
Ivan and his crew show up a few minutes later.
There are the usual pleasantries between the cartel guy and Ivan, and the usual posturing of their backup. They’re probably all packing hidden weapons, but everyone tries to play it cool. They’re in public for a reason.
