The phone in my front pocket vibrates. Checking it is the only thing I want to do right now. I shift in the metal chair and keep my hands clasped on top of the aluminum conference table that has seen better days.
The warehouse is deserted except for the six of us. It's a weird setup, but I learned a long time ago the right questions to ask and the ones to avoid. At least there's a table. This is a negotiation, not a confrontation. The table is important.
My heart thumps a violent rhythm in my chest, but I've gotten used to that too. The erratic heartbeat is my tell, and I'm thankful the people I work with can't hear it, even when it pounds in my ears. I've been well-trained for this double life, at least on the outside.
"Look," I let impatience seep into my voice. "Carys is going to be pissed when she finds out you guys are screwing her over." My first indication this meeting wouldn't be lucrative should have been the lack of heat in the building. It's so cold that each time I speak, I wonder if I'll see my breath. Teddy is too cheap to pay the prices we need to make this deal worthwhile.
"Next time, she comes to the meeting herself or we'll be taking care of business in a different way." The metal of Teddy's gun twinkles at me as he flips his suit jacket with false casualness.
I give him a mild glance and suppress my eye roll. Guys who have this burning desire to whip out their gun as a substitute for their dick piss me off. You got a gun. Good for you. I have four. The one up the sleeve of my leather jacket would nail him between the eyes before he even unholstered his archaic piece of crap. It's no wonder he's searching for an arms deal.
"I have a feeling she's not going to want to do any business with you after this stunt." I keep my features neutral. This is a wasted opportunity, and frustration eats at me. "Call me when you're serious about working with us. Maybe she'll still be interested." I nod to the two men who came with me, and they mirror my movements, ready to follow my lead.
"What's she paying you, Kim? I'll double it." Teddy readjusts himself under the table.
Ambling toward the exit, my throat fills with unease. My brain should be engaged in this conversation, but I can't stop thinking about the message on my phone. I call over my shoulder, "You couldn't afford me, Teddy. I'm above your pay grade."
"You got balls of steel." He chuckles when I keep walking. The warehouse is large and has too many of his steel products lying around which doesn't absorb his voice. His voice echoes, drawing my attention even when I'd prefer to ignore him. I'm not sure what he wants with Carys, but I doubt it has anything to do with guns.
Pausing before the exit, I shake my head, half turning back to him, flanked by Carys's two burly men. "I'd take a pussy made of diamonds over balls of steel any day."
Teddy's grin fades, and his chair screeches across the concrete when he stands. The two men with him are like shadows. "You want diamonds? I can arrange that."
"Forget you know my number." I push the emergency exit door, and it pops open. "Unless you have money for the deal."
The door slams behind my last man as we head to our black SUV waiting in the deserted gravel parking lot. The sky is blue-black, and the snow on the ground is melting, creating puddles in the potholes. Spring is on the way, but it isn't here yet. At some point, we'll get another blast of winter.
"What a waste of time." I pull out the phone in my pocket as it vibrates again.
"That Carys?" Jay raises his dark eyebrows as he opens the rear passenger door for me. His close-cropped brown hair is ruffed by a sudden breeze.
"Could be." I duck down, folding my almost six-foot frame into the car, but I don't take the phone out. Why am I being contacted? The FBI programmed the phone with a unique vibration for agency texts. When it went off in the meeting, I worried someone would notice my reaction. Creating suspicion in any of the people I work with could get me killed—shot dead without hesitation.
Dead.
The car jerks forward, and Jay mumbles an apology as I focus on my hands, turning them over.
Dead.
My pocket vibrates again, and this time when I look down at my hands, they're covered in blood.
"Kim?" He tries to catch my gaze in the mirror. "Carys is going to be ticked."
My head snaps up, and I tuck my hands under my thighs, sliding along the black leather, and release a dark chuckle. "I told Carys I didn't think there was any way Teddy was buying from us. He hasn't got enough money, and no use for guns." Carys making me the point person for the deal was a step in the right direction. So, I didn't argue too much.
"He's got lots of use for you." Jay meets my gaze.
"He wouldn't be able to handle me." I ease back into the seat and stare out the window as Chicago zooms by. The skyline is one of the things I love about this city, and dusk brings it to life, the lights dancing across the lake's surface.
"You ever work for a man before?" Jay checks his mirrors.
The new guy beside him, whose name I can't remember, pipes up, "She's too much of a ballbuster to work for a man."
Jay gives him an annoyed look. "Carys will shoot you herself for chirping Kim like that."
"I'm perfectly capable of shooting him," I say, my tone mild. The cityscape outside the window rushes by. I can't stop thinking about my phone, but it's too risky to take it out right now. "Yeah, I've worked for some men. I try to avoid it. They're too preoccupied with their balls."
The new guy laughs, and Jay gives him another sideways glance.
"I can see why." He isn't getting Jay's silent message. Over the seat, he's scanning my dark ponytail secured near the top of my head down to my Lululemon pants. "What are you, anyway? You're like, exotic or something. I can't put my finger on it."
Giving him a cold stare, I say, "Your fingers don't belong anywhere near me." Compared to me and Jay, this kid is as pale as a ghost.
"You're getting fired, man." Jay shakes his head and adjusts his hands on the steering wheel as we merge into heavier traffic. "If you keep talking, you're going to end up in concrete shoes at the bottom of Lake Michigan."
The only bit of color in his face disappears. At least the new guy has the good sense to take Jay's comment seriously. He's probably in his early twenties, a kid looking to make a quick buck. Everything about him reminds me of someone I don't want to remember but can never forget.
"That's not a real thing." His voice quivers.
"They're all real things," Jay says. "You don't mess around with these people, Paul. The stereotypes, the rumors, the shit you see on TV—most of it is taken from someone's real life."
Ah, a name. Not that I'll need to remember it after the conversation we're having.
The car glides to a stop in front of my four-story brown brick apartment building. The trees lining the street are mature, hanging over the sidewalk and road. The streetlights work, and the front door has a security guard. Not that I need one of those. I chose this neighborhood on purpose. It's not too run-down, but it's not new and shiny either. Carys has offered to let me live with her outside the city. I can't, though. While it might make aspects of the job easier, it would make others infinitely harder.
"I didn't mean anything by my comments." Paul's voice is uncertain.
He isn't as big as Jay and, standing up, he and I are about the same height. I'm maybe ten years older than him, but that gap is massive right now. I've been on this job with Carys for almost a year, but in some ways, it's my whole life.
"You're not cut out for this, Paul. Quit before someone kills you." I'm half out the door when I turn to Jay and say, "Tell Carys I have some personal business. I'll be back in a few days."
"Your brother?" His brown eyes are full of sympathy.
"Yeah." I give a curt nod. "Anniversary of his death."
"I'll let her know."
I slam the door behind me and enter the building, waving to the security guard at the desk. In the elevator, I put my hand over the phone in my pocket. How much time will I have?
At my door, I slide the key in the lock. My steady hands belie my racing heart as I slip inside. I flip all the locks in place and tug the phone from my pocket.
It's been almost six months.
Airport. Two hours.
Glancing at the current time and when the text was sent, I'm pretty sure I can make it. It's going to be tight. Opening the entryway closet, I grab the prepacked bag and then undo the locks on the door.
I disappear into the night.