The Fall(35)

Huge.

Couldn’t keep it shut unless he was unconscious.

Which meant if I did this job for him, he would blab to anyone who would listen, which might inadvertently take some of the heat off my ass. After all, if I was guarding Jimmy Amaro’s princess, I wouldn’t leave her to do some tweeker’s dirty work, now would I?

“Two K.” He blew out a slow breath. “I need you to deliver somethin’.”

“I’m not UPS. Stop wasting my time.” My finger hovered over the end button on my phone, wondering if the moron had anything else to say. Because what he had said so far hadn’t wowed me.

“I know that, M but this shit isn’t the kind of stuff I can FedEx.” His voice suddenly turned serious. “I got one hundred pills—Oxy—I need you to drop them off for me. That’s it. Easy. And the two grand is yours.”

Awesome.

Drugs.

No need to ask how he’d acquired them, the less I knew the better.

“It’s a hundred pills; why not drop them off yourself?” I mean, really? He was going to pay me two grand to essentially be a runner? Not that I gave a shit either way how anyone spent their money, but surely getting off his ass would save him a hell of a lot of cash. And time. He could have already delivered them by now.

“Because it’s my ex-wife, and she has a restraining order out on me. I’m not worried about the cops, they can suck my dick, but my old lady is packing. I go anywhere near her place and she is going to shoot me. She’s done it before, she’ll do it again.”

I literally shook my head. What the f*ck was I listening to? It was like a bad ghetto drama.

“Why the f*ck do you want me to deliver Oxy to your ex-wife?”

Not sure why I asked, call me curious.

“Alimony. She doesn’t get those pills and all hell will break loose. Come on, dawg. Do me a solid, will you?”

Alimony? I guess paying someone a monthly check for food and rent was a little outdated these days.

“Fine. I want the cash up front.” Seriously, I needed my head examined. “No f*cking surprises, Brendon.”

“No surprises. All good. She’ll probably give you a blowjob for free.”

“I’m not interested in your ex-wife blowing me.”

“Your loss, man, she has skills. One thing I miss about the f*cking bitch.” He almost sounded sentimental.

“Whatever. See you in two hours.”

It had been a tough call. Take the job, leaving Sofia on her own and possibly walk into a trap, or refuse and have the dip shit confirm what he suspected—that I had her. It was a gamble either way, but I wasn’t going to sit on my hands. Hopefully getting back on the streets would give me a better feel for the situation, maybe even yield some intel. As long as I kept my eyes open and my senses sharp, the outcome would be favorable.

Considering I was already in the bathroom, I figured I’d jump in the shower. My fingers cranked the faucets, the cold water hitting my skin as I entered the stall. I never really bothered waiting for the water to heat up—just get in, get clean and get out. Besides, I still had the other problem to deal with.

The one that was still in my bed.

She wasn’t the kind of girl to sit still and wait, which meant that me leaving brought up a whole new set of problems. Tying her up could always works as a solution, but the warehouse didn’t have a basement like the Brownstone did.

Shutting off the faucet, I toweled off and slung the towel around my waist. My clothes were in the other room, which meant the redress was going to have to happen with an audience. And it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sofia was sitting up in bed when I walked in, her hair mussed from sleep while her knees were up tight against her chest. From the look on her face, I was confident she’d heard part of my conversation, which is why she probably looked like she wanted to run. Smart girl. And me leaving meant . . .

“I have a job to take care of today.” I grabbed my jeans from the floor and pulled them on, not bothering with boxers or to look at her. The towel fell from my waist as I yanked them up. I didn’t bother flashing my cock this time. There wasn’t time to play games, and to be honest; I was short on the motivation. “Not sure how long I’ll be gone. You’re staying here obviously.”

“Are you going to lock me up?” To her credit her voice didn’t wobble, just asking me the question we’d both been considering.

“Nope.” My fingers zipped up my fly. I didn’t bother with a shirt, knowing I could grab one on the way out.

“Nope?” she echoed, no doubt not what she’d expected to hear.

“The way I figure it, you have had enough opportunities to run and you’ve been smart.” I turned to look at her. “If you do decide to go, know that I won’t try to follow you. We both know you probably won’t make it twenty-four hours on your own, so your best chance is to stay with me. Now, if I leave and you decide that plan doesn’t sit right with you, then that will be on you. But I won’t lock you up.”

It was another gamble, but I was giving her the choice. If she ran, then that was on her but I wasn’t going to tie her up. Maybe some sick part of me was curious, wanting to see if she’d prefer to be with me than an unknown alternative. Can’t say if I were her that I wouldn’t take my chances. But we weren’t the same type of person. And maybe it was a good time to remember that.