Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(155)

“Is this mystery man possibly named Saint?” Dayton asks, mentioning Rafael’s old assassin code name.

“Saint’s retired,” she says, waving over the waitress. “Kingman isn’t.”

The men tense immediately. They know that name. I’ve heard it too over the years. Kingman works for the Arizona Moving Company, which is the Southwest’s version of Murder, Inc. The assassin agency uses Arizona cities for their code names. Kingman has been around for over a decade and reportedly killed three judges in California. Now Minka’s bluffing about the bastard heading to Common Bend.

Minka orders two shots of Cactus Juice Liqueur while the men have intense silent conversations. Ignoring them, Minka hands me a shot and says, “To our Arizona friends.”

She downs her shot and shudders at the flavor. I do the same except without the reaction. The liqueur takes like shit, but I have a tough guy rep to protect.

“Seems like a lot of effort,” Camden finally says, “for one little town.”

“Cops are a tricky target. I assume that’s why you haven’t removed the threat yourself.”

“It’s one reason, yeah.”

“I’m assuming our club is the other reason,” Vaughn adds, looking grumpy for the first time since arriving. “If shit gets messy, it’ll be in your backyard, not ours.”

“Nothing is getting messy,” I announce. “The status quo makes everyone happy, and why shouldn’t we want to be happy?”

Minka glances at me, and I see a hint of relief in her dark eyes. “In a little over seventy-two hours, our problem will be solved, and happiness will break out like a f*cking rash. Now can we go?”

Minka doesn’t wait for their answer. She hands the waitress cash for the drinks plus a tip. Nodding at the twins, she walks past their big burly henchmen and out of the bar.

“I look forward to a time when we can text these things and save on gas,” I say before leaving.

Outside, Minka and I wait while the bikers do their bravado handshake bullshit. I miss that kind of showmanship of armed people trying to impress and frighten each other. I wonder if Minka misses her old life as a contract killer.

“Why did you retire?” I ask while we wait.

“Since leaving my mom’s house, I never stopped moving. Eventually, I got tired of traveling. I wanted to find a place and put down roots, so I convinced Troy to give Rafael’s setup a shot.”

“Good thing you did,” I murmur, giving her ass a quick slap.

“Don’t spank me in public. It’s not professional.”

I’m laughing when the Reapers leave the bar. They aren’t happy about my good mood, but their anger focuses mainly at Minka. She sees Vaughn about to complain and waves him off. Walking to the SUV, she glances around, and I also wonder if we’re being watched.

“You called in the Arizona Moving Company?” Vaughn demands before lowering his voice when Minka glances around again. “Are you nuts?”

“No. What are you so f*cking worked up about?”

“His old club was out of Arizona,” Judd explains.

“The Devils?” I ask. “They’re dead, you know? I read about it in the papers during a stopover in Chicago. What’s the problem?”

“Cooper doesn’t want Arizona involved.”

Minka steps up to Vaughn, ready to throw down with the giant man. I’m ready to shoot anyone who so much as looks at her wrong.

“We don’t answer to you or Cooper,” Minka says in a hard, quiet voice. “I would also remind you that the Arizona Moving Company has nothing to do with your old crew. Finally, I think you need to keep in mind that you’re standing in Serrated Brotherhood territory. You might want to keep from pissing yourself until you’re somewhere a little more neutral.”

Judd pats Vaughn's back. I never truly worry the confrontation will turn violent. These guys aren’t stupid. Even Tucker keeps his head on straight.

“You better know what you’re doing,” Vaughn says, stepping away.

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

Minka slides into the car and shuts the door. I don’t acknowledge the men before joining her in the SUV. They only have eyes for Minka anyway. She’s pushed their buttons. Now they’ll want to run everything past Cooper before acting. No doubt the bikers inside the bar are also having a little meeting.

“Why seventy-two hours?” I ask while pulling the car out of the parking lot.

“I figure that’ll give us enough time to kill Black.”

Grinning, I stop at a light. “The cactus juice was a nice touch.”

Minka shares my smile. “Thanks, but I think I might puke now. Man, that was gross.”

“I could stick my tongue in your mouth if you think that would help.”

“Later, Dino,” she says, patting my cheek. “I’d like to stop by Ruby’s place and check on her first.”

“Because you’re a sweetheart worried over her or because you want info?”

“Can’t it be both?”

My smile says what I can’t. Minka is too f*cking fascinating to ever let go. Even if she smacks me upside the head every day for the rest of our lives, I’ve found my Missus Dino.