BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(3)

He’d done little to convince me it was an accident. The bank manager in question had directed some pretty choice expletive-laced threats at Cash, and I suspected his temper got in the way of him doing his job.

“Your cut will be reflective of that accident,” I said in a dry tone. “Mistake. Poor judgement. Temper tantrum. Whatever you want to call it.”

He scooped the hair away from his eyes and shot me a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not.”

“How much you gonna cut me?”

“Enough that we don’t have this conversation again. No matter how much someone gets under your skin.”

“Fuck that bitch,” he said through his teeth. “She was trying to give me the bait money. And, she talked a huge line of shit. We voted, Baker.”

I gave him a sideways look. “If the tables were turned, tell me what you’d have done.”

“If I was her?”

“If you were her. What would you have done?”

His eyes searched the floor for a moment. “I’d have given the thief the bait money.” He tilted his head to the side and raised both eyebrows. “But I wouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

I spit a laugh on the floor between us.

His eyes thinned. “What?”

“You’d follow the conditions of employment at the bank, but you won’t follow them with the club?”

“She was an irritating bitch.”

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“Yeah.” He grinned a sly grin. “It was.”

It wasn’t an accident, and I knew it. “Whatever you want to call it, it’s going to cost you roughly fifty-three thousand bucks. After the club’s paid, that’s seventy-five percent of your take.”

“God damn it, Baker,” he seethed.

“It’s not negotiable. I’ll announce it to the club on Wednesday afternoon.”

“Fine. But that bitch better hope I never see her on the street.”

The job was in Indio. The odds of him ever seeing her again were nil at best. “She’s a hundred and fifty miles from here, so we won’t have to worry about that, will we?”

“It’s a good thing.” He tapped the tip of his index finger against his forehead. “Because the next one’ll be between her eyes.”





TWO - Andy





Present day.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.” He shook his head so lightly it seemed unintentional. “I hate to say it, but I believe you were called in by accident.”

My heart sank. “Accident?”

“You have no property management experience? Is that correct?”

“Yes, Sir. I mean, no, Sir,” I stammered. “I have no experience, but I believe I’m more than qualified. In fact, I’m convinced I’ll better serve you in this position than anyone else you’ll interview. I’m sure of it. Quite sure.”

I was three minutes into the most important job interview of my life. A job I had no experience at. The Notice to Vacate I’d recently been forced to comply with was all the motivation I needed to convince the old man on the other side of the desk to hire me.

He held my resumé at arm’s length. His brow wrinkled. “I don’t know why she prints these things like this. I need a magnifying glass to read it.”

He picked up a pair of wire-framed glasses and stretched the curved earpieces over the back of each of his ears. For just shy of eternity, he studied my sparse work history through the thick lenses. When he finished, he placed the resumé on the side of his desk and set his glasses on top of it.

“You are Andy Winslow, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’ve got to be honest, Andy. When I told Nadine to call you in for an interview, I thought you were a man.”

“I’m one hundred percent woman. All 134 pounds of me,” I said playfully.

His face remained expressionless.

“Does being a woman prevent me from being considered?”

“I suppose not. It’s just that I can’t see how a business management degree – and a few years of experience as a bartender while you were in college – can prepare you to manage two pieces of property that are filled with demanding tenants.” He waved a dismissive hand at my resumé. “Is this the extent of your job experience?”

My qualifications were bleak at best. For fear of tarnishing my otherwise spotless background, I hadn’t bothered listing the job I’d been fired from recently. Excluding it, my life’s experiences – in respect to work – were listed.

“Yes, Sir. But that sheet of paper isn’t reflective of my abilities at all.” I stood and removed a hair tie from my purse. “Give me your best demanding tenant impersonation.”

His eyes thinned. “Pardon me?”

“You’re an angry tenant. I’m the property manager. Go.”

He looked at me as if I was crazy. “I don’t think this is--”

“I’m serious.” I twisted my hair into place. “You don’t think I’m qualified, and I think I am. Try me.”

He crossed his arms and then looked me over. “My air conditioner quit, and I need to get someone to look at it right away,” he said, his tone coarse and challenging. “I’ve got family coming in from Michigan, and I can’t wait all damned weekend.”