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Brent

“N ice face.”

“I hide mine so you don’t feel so bad about yours.”

“One of these days my grandfather will give me the green light to shoot you.”

“He already gave me one for you, but I felt too bad about how ugly you are.”

From the intel he gathered about Jason Haines, we found ourselves staking out a warehouse on orders from the Dictator. Why he sent me out like a henchman would forever irk me.

What we knew was that Jason Haines was planning something. What that something was? Either I was kept out of those conversations, or we just didn’t know. The rules of the game changed consistently, and it was a struggle to keep up with.

We sat out there for hours looking for signs of anything. It was basically like watching paint dry in a refrigerator.

Reaper shoved something into my ribs. “Mint?”

“No, and keep your voice down.”

“Your breath smells bad.”

An SUV pulled into the lot and two men with briefcases shuffled out. I focused the rangefinder on what they were carrying—locked cases that most likely held money, drugs, or goods unable to be traded in the daylight. Trench coats and locked cases at one in the morning? Yeah, nefarious.

“Code combos to get into the cases. Two out and one driver.”

Reaper yawned in response.

My bet was that Jason wasn’t going to handle this himself. Too dirty for his prissy little fingers. He was the bane of my grandfather’s existence. When Maria got her diagnosis, someone spilled the beans and Jason was there to try to replace her as mentee and get in on the cushier side of the top one percenters.

Why continue to be middle class when you can sit next to God himself?

Only that didn’t work. Augustus Vaughn hated Jason with a passion for being a lazy opportunist and called him far too many names. Jason then left with a chip on his shoulder and a vow to destroy the family line.

Which included me.

“I can’t hear shit.”

I slapped him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Like they can hear us.”

“At least lower your fucking voice.”

A small group formed near the entrance of the building. Like Reaper said, I couldn’t hear shit. Voices were obscured and my best bet was catching some lip reading with my view.

The men who arrived handed over their locked cases to the overly dressed guards and said what looked like for the boss . Too bad they didn’t just say Jason Haines to make my life easier. The smaller one took the first case inside—to check it I supposed.

Standing awkwardly, one smoking, until he came back out with a nod to take the other case back, we waited to see what it would turn into. The second case came back with the same nod of approval. The two suits nodded at each other before handing over a duffel bag to the trench coats to send them on their way.

“Looks like a regular business deal to me. I’m hungry.”

Bang!

“Mhm.”

The suits gunned down the trench coats. Hostile deal?

The only reason for gunning down a business deal is if you had the upper hand on another company and wanted to tip the first domino. Make them think you were coming in guns blazing. In reality, their plan had been set into motion a long time ago. Was the attacker Jason? Or was Jason the one being attacked?

If only we had the proper intel to know what the fuck was going on.

Feeling a step behind in every situation was getting really fucking tiring.

The driver stepped out and calmly walked over to the suits and shook each of their hands. There was no good view of him in that big ass jacket with the hood up and a hat obscuring most of his face. Casual body language told me this had been a large setup.

I hesitated to speak or look away from the view. “Think we can ID the two dead guys?”

“Can try. Unless they burn the bodies.”

“Why would they—”

He pointed to where they were drowning the dead in a liquid from a red canister. Well, fuck me sideways.

Flames. The bodies went up in flames after the driver tossed a match onto them. They weren’t even good enough for a lighter. Just a wooden match. With them up in flames, so went our opportunity to figure out who they were.

I slumped in my hiding spot. “I am literally never going to get this shit right.”

Reaper clapped a hand to my shoulder. “Probably not, but I bet there’s a good burger out there with our names on them.”

––––––––

G o do the job. Come back and report. That was the majority of my time spent working under the Dictator. We had a regular group of specialized cleaners who trained me after I got in one too many situations that would have landed me in jail—if I were anyone else.

Maybe he had a plan for me by training me under these guys. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe I was just a nuisance and doing the dirty work wasn’t a complete waste of time to my grandfather.

The Dictator. The man was one.

“Thanks, Martha,” I nodded as she set our plates down.

She gave me a sideways look with a raised eyebrow before turning away and walking to the back of the kitchen.

“Damn, what did you do to Miss Martha?” Reaper rolled up his mask to expose his mouth.

“You really never take that shit off, do you?”

“Nope.”

There were only three times I’d seen him eat; this was one of them. What I saw was five o’clock shadow and tanned skin. Some tattoos peeking out on his neck, too.

He changed topics. “How’s that little new—not aunt—fuck buddy of yours Mr. Vaughn said not to touch?”

How was she? I’d give anything to know what my little Blondie was like in bed. Soft skin against mine, those sweet lips screaming my name, and every part of her melting in my hands? Soon, I’d get there and memorize every inch of her with my eyes, hands, and mouth. She just needed to let me in long enough to realize I’m not what she thinks I am.

“Bratty.” I shoved a fry in my mouth.

“Aren’t they all? Anyway, I got confirmation on the Haines team running surveillance on her. She’s the one that they’ve been looking out for in their rise to power. Don’t ask me how I know, just trust me on the intel.”

I waited silently for him to continue.

“This is where you say, ‘Great job, Reaper!’ and give me brownie points.”

I kicked him instead.

“Feisty. I like it. Next time, make it harder, daddy. Jason and his people—or girlfriend lady—have been keeping a close eye on her since she left whatever family member she was holed up with until she was eighteen. I did more recon on that info and found out via our intel that this aunt of hers forged some paperwork and put you and your grandfather in some deep shit. Montgomery Group is scrambling at the legal nightmare and digging into who may have been a rat on that end of things. Someone decided to play chess with their hostile takeover.”

My fists over-clenched and my burger fell apart in my hands. “So, she’s also involved in the shit we’ve been fighting for the last however many years?”

He didn’t seem too bothered as he funneled onion rings into his mouth. “Yeah, pretty much. Except, from what it looks like to me, she doesn’t even know the game she’s a part of. She’s more like a cute little deer just prancing around until the hunter takes his shot.”

Great .

“Then why didn’t the Dictator want me near her?”

He shrugged. “That’s not a question for me, boss. I put my neck out to get you this info. Do me a favor and don’t let me get cut this time.”

The tone in his voice said he was serious for once, and it made me wonder how many times he’d been burned before. I knew nothing of his past, but the fact that he hides his face tells me it’s probably not a great one. “I doubt he’d even listen to me; even if I told him the words he wanted to hear verbatim.”

“When are you bringing that little girlfriend of yours back around?” My coffee cup got a refill from Martha while she gave me a stern look. As if I’d made Fallon run for the hills after I brought her here.

Reaper looked me up and down, his eyes a little curious. “She’s your girlfriend-not-aunt-fuckbuddy now?”

“Your what now ?” Jesus, one of these days Reapers lack of filter might give Martha a heart attack.

I waved off Reaper's comment. “She didn’t run for the hills if that’s what you’re asking.”

Everyone seemed to have a vested interest in Fallon. The innocent little rich girl that seemed to hold the key to everything was at the very center of a large elite game. I wondered if she knew how important she really was.

I wanted to show her.

“If you bring this Belushi around her, she might. You, Mister Mask, need to mind your manners.” A scolding from Martha. No man was safe from one—not even Reaper.

He held up his napkin to wave his white flag. “Sorry Miss Martha, I’ll mind my tongue.”

She cleared up the table and we concurred that we had no idea what happened at the warehouse earlier. The information we got was just to observe a business transaction and report back with who did what and who might be involved.

“We need to figure out who that driver was,” I said, settling into my seat and starting the car.

Reaper strapped in and gave me an unsettling look. “Let me tell you about what else I found out that I couldn’t talk about in the diner.”