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“I don’t trust her,” Sugar replied.
No bounce-bounce-bounce shoe taps, but he saw it in Nic’s face. The charge had been set. No telling when she would strike. He needed to diffuse this blowup and get down to the warlord arms dealer business.
One bounce. He heard Nic’s shoe bounce once. Then a bounce, bounce.
“Sug—”
Nic started in. “You’re selling illegal ammo, and you don’t trust me? Screw this, Cash. I’m calling ATF. They can deal with her.” She rifled through the black hole bag. The cell would eventually be found, and Nic didn’t look like this was a bluff.
Sugar looked ready to pounce. “Excuse me? What the—”
“Ladies, backroom. Now. Nic, put your cell away.”
Without a word, Sugar turned and stormed down the hall. Nic gave a smirk and shrug, following after her. Their two sets of feminine ass-kickin’ boots were readying to loft him a good one where the sun didn’t shine if he didn’t rein this situation in on the quick.
Their threesome stopped in Sugar’s office. He’d only been in there a couple of times and hadn’t been intent on checking out the décor. Now, his objective was to keep them civil and productive.
He looked at the bright fuchsia wall and over-the-top furniture. Sugar’s office was the Home Depot version of her, something he should have noticed before.Bet lots of interesting things go down in this room.
“Speak,” Sugar ordered Nicola. “Fast.”
Nic smiled as if ice ripped through her veins. “Where’d Jared’s ammo come from?”
“None of your nosey-girl business.”
“You know who Antilla Smooth is?”
Sugar cocked an eyebrow and looked at Cash. He was content to let them work through this. For now.
Sugar pivoted a gaze back to his girl. “BFF to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, big fan of the Hussein brothers. What does that have to do with me?”
“Ever move his product?” Nic asked.
“Never seen his product. Never been overseas to do business. Cash?” Sugar turned to him, a flash of concern coloring her glance. “What does this have to do with me?”
He zipped his lips. Not his interrogation.
She turned back to Nic. “I run a legit shop. I buy, sell, and trade. I design and build. I don’t play with third- or first-world arms dealers. No one in Europe, the Middle East, or South America. I don’t use Swiss bank accounts. Cold, hard good ole US of A cash exchanges. Fess up, Garrison girl. What’s up with ATF threats and name dropping the likes of the Bin Laden clan?”
“The ammo you sold Titan is Smooth’s.”
“Not a chance.”
“Ever seen anything of Antilla Smooth’s?”
“Why would I?”
“He marks his product with—”
“Oh, fuck.” For a split second, shock shut Sugar silent. “With an A and an S.” Pure surprise dripped off Sugar’s painted-on face. The woman didn’t know. Nic had to see that too. Sugar was as caught off guard as he’d been when she rolled heels first into Winters’s living room.
“Who’d you buy it from?” Nic followed up on that revelation.
“A legit source.” Sugar started to straighten a pile of papers that were already squared off.
“You’re not naming names?”
“I’m not giving up my seller to some—”