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The man was cool, not even glancing around to see if anyone was listening in. Not that there were many people here at ten in the morning. This was his turf, the place where he conducted his business. I’d bet half the people in here worked for him.
“What do you need?”
“A gun.”
“Unregistered?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Would I be coming to you otherwise?”
He watched me carefully for a moment before reaching into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes. I did the same, if only because I really wanted a hit right now, and this was keeping me level.
“Anything in particular?”
“Sig P365,” I answered, tapping the ashes into the tray.
“You know your guns.”
I knew all too well the look on his face. He was wondering if I was a cop—if I was looking to make a bust. I shoved my sleeve up, showing off my military tat, and giving him a good look at the track marks on my arm.
“I know a guy.” He scribbled down an address, then slid it across the table. “You’ll find him here. He’s not cheap.”
“Didn’t think he would be.”
I snatched the paper from him, then tossed another hundred on the table. At this rate, I was going to need money fast. I stood and walked away without another word. Nodding to the bartender, I walked out into the bright light of day and headed for my truck. It was only once I was inside that I cracked and thudded my head against the steering wheel.
Fuck, I needed just a taste—just enough to take the edge off. But if I did that, I knew I’d never be able to stop. It was hard enough the last time, but with the way I’d been waking up in the morning, the urge to erase everything from my memory was overwhelming.
I cranked the engine and headed to the location on the paper. I had cash from Baz that I fully intended to use against him, though he didn’t know it. He called it a thank you for helping his son out in prison. I grabbed the cash out of the glove box and locked the doors on my truck.
They saw me coming as soon as I walked around the building. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rook gave them a heads-up that I was on my way over. “I hear you can get me a weapon,” I said, not bothering to look at the other guys surrounding the one that was clearly in charge.
“You hear from where?”
“A mutual acquaintance.”
He looked at his gang-banger friends as he laughed. “I don’t have acquaintances.”
His friends shifted, moving to surround me. They didn’t know who they were fucking with.
“You’re in the wrong place.”
“Is that so?”
“But I’ll still take the money.”
“That’s not the way this works,” I retorted, feeling them closing in around me.
The kid lifted his shirt, showing off his gun tucked into the front of his pants. He didn’t even have the safety on. He’d probably shoot off his own dick.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” I asked.
“Hand over the cash and I’ll think about letting you leave here alive.”
I turned and slammed my fist into the kid coming at me from the right. Someone jumped me from behind, pressing a knife to my throat. I slid my hand between my throat and the knife, pushing his hand away, then torquing his wrist up and backward. He cried out as the sickening pop of his bone cracking sounded above all the fighting.
Another kid aimed his gun at me and I grabbed it, ripping it out of his hands and slamming it into his forehead. He crumpled to the ground as I spun and threw the gun at another guy, hitting him in the face. The metal sliced into his skin, leaving a thick trail of blood dribbling down his cheek.
I spun and grabbed the leader’s gun, not bothering to remove it from his pants. “You didn’t think to put the safety on,” I whispered. “And your gun is pointed right at your junk. Call them off.”
