(2013) Shooter (15 page)
For this little, little while, I was happy.
But you take all we are; the innocence of our hearts
Made to kneel before the altar as you tear us apart
So we march to the drums of the damned as we call…
My eyelids drooped open and closed, things went hazy, and little made any sense anymore.
We will fight; or we will fall; until the angels sing our songs…
Eventually, I crashed out from sheer exhaustion and drifted into dreamless, painless, merciful sleep.
It felt like the blood on my hands had been washed away. As though nothing mattered anymore.
For that time, I was little Graecia Pryor again, innocent and free.
Three monotonous, uneventful days passed, before it was deemed safe for me to leave the confines of my bed. But when I finally got to stretch my legs, it was like heaven. Praise Jesus.
Even after I was up and wandering around the house, though, Julia and Daisuke hovered.
Eventually, I thought I was going to have to beat someone with my bum limb.
He was currently shadowing me while I tidied the main room, just for something to do. My patience finally gave out as I was straightening a vase.
"I'm not going to collapse at a second's notice, Daisuke. You can stop, now." I snapped. I hadn't meant to growl at him, but I didn't take it back, either. He stepped away; there was venom in my tone.
"You never know, Grace. Sorry." But he hung his head a little and went to take up a post several feet farther from me. "I just want to make sure you're okay…"
He was like a sad puppy, and I immediately felt horrible. Damn. "I'm sorry, Dai. I just like my space. You know that."
He nodded, but still looked for the entire world like a scolded child. Why do I have to be so mean?
But I said my apology, and my stubborn streak wouldn't allow me to give another under any circumstances. So, in typical Grace behavior, I changed the subject. "So… where've you been going lately?"
Daisuke had made it a pattern to disappear for entire days while I was in bed. Julia wouldn't tell me where he was going, if she
did
know. The issue was; it was really none of my business. However, there had never been any secrecy in the house before, and the very fact that there
was
some
now
was rubbing me the wrong way. Even though I knew I was most likely being paranoid, and it was most likely nothing, there was still this little part of me that just
had to know
.
"Nowhere important, really. Just trying to figure out who's… with us, and who's against us."
I sighed, fell into the squishy armchair next to me, and buried my face in my good hand. My other one was wrapped up in a cocoon and thrown in a sling.
So Daisuke was throwing himself into the bull's pen, likely canvassing the most frequented spots where contracts are sealed. He would have re-checked with Sinclaire and then maybe even with Holland, the third… boss.
I watched him through my fingers. "Did you speak with this Lucky guy yet?" I was hoping he hadn't.
Dai shook his head. "Nope. I figured you'd have wanted a word with him."
Well, that was good for me, but bad in the sense that our first informant might already have squealed, and Lucky might have had time to split before we'd have time to show up. Rodney might have kept quiet, but I doubted it.
Informants talk. That's why they're informants.
"Alright." Despite myself, fatigue crept into my voice. "We'll go have a little chat with him. Today."
After quite a bit of protest on Daisuke's part, I finally made him give up on trying to dissuade me. We were going, and that was final.
I think my bullheadedness was due mostly to my desire to actually get up and help myself, rather than just sit and lick my wounds and bitch. Call it a personality trait of mine.
It still got on Julie's nerves, though. In fact, I'm sure that she was thoroughly pissed with me by the time Daisuke and I were pulling away, off on our merry little errand.
Roughly an hour later, we found Lucky sitting at the bar of a tiny dive called 'Dead Ends'. We'd first checked his… residence, if you might call a rat hole a residence, then his… office… and were pointed in this direction by a hopelessly green new thug. I could tell he was green because I hadn't even had to pull out a gun to get him to tell me what I wanted to know. He sang like a lark.
So here we were, sneaking up on my new squealer. And I wasn't going to take 'I don't know' as an answer.
"Lucky!" I strolled up behind him, addressing him as though it were ever such a pleasant surprise that I'd found my 'old friend Lucky' here. "How's it going, bud?"
He leaped up and nearly fell of his stool. An insane giggle bubbled up in me, was mercilessly strangled, and then died away without a struggle.
The next movement of his was full of dread, drawn out for longer than it should have been. Lucky turned around slowly, oh, so slowly, and let out a sordid curse when he saw my grinning face. "Aw, shit, Pryor. What the hell do you want?"
"Why don't we talk about this in a booth back there?" I jabbed a thumb toward the dark corners in he back. The bartender was glaring at us suspiciously, and I didn't want to give her a reason to toss us out or call the cops. That would be unfortunate.
A muscle flicked in Lucky's jaw; he was not happy at all. However, he decided to be gracious and slipped off of his stool to follow me to a back booth. I wasn't comfortable not having him in my line of sight, but he wouldn't try anything in such a public place, and definitely not now with Daisuke's stare boring a hole in the back of his head.
When we reached the farthest, darkest corner, I stepped aside to allow Lucky into the booth before me. He slid in on one side, so Dai and I scooted in on the other.
I rested my elbows on the slightly dirty, rather worn and pitted wooden surface of the booth table and smiled pleasantly at the man in front of me. He simply glared. "So, I believe that you know why I'm here."
"No clue, Pryor. Care to enlighten me?" Now, I'd been planning to be pleasant, but not when he would be playing dumb. I don't allow that. My nice expression disappeared and was replaced with a scowl.
"Don't you play with me, Lucky. Who took out the contract?" I used my lowest, deadliest tone.
"What contract?" He sneered, trying to stay cool.
"The one you handled for a client who wants me taken care of."
Had to hand it to him, Lucky didn't sweat. "Like I know who wants you iced, Pryor? Get off my ass, huh?"
"And what if I don't believe you?" I leaned back in my seat.
"Then you're a dumb broad." He fired at me.
I had to kick Daisuke's foot when he went tense beside me. Not the time for beating down our informant. Yet.
I reined in the frustration that welled up at that comment. "There's no need to insult me. I know that you were the one who handled the contract, and maybe you'll walk away with everything attached if you just tell me
who paid
?"
Lucky sighed. "I can't do that."
My jaw clenched painfully. My teeth still hadn't recovered. "Why not?"
"You know why, Pryor. You're not a total idiot. Think for a minute." Lucky was nervous and exasperated, and it showed. He was fidgeting, and couldn't seem to look me in the eye.
"You're worried about your own ass." I shrugged, and then stared him down. "But quite frankly, you're in more danger from
me
than you are from
them
. Catch my meaning?"
"Don't threaten me."
I chuckled unpleasantly. "That was just a suggestion." I clicked the slide of the pistol I'd silently pulled out underneath the table. "
This
is a threat."
The gun was aimed at a certain part that males don't like getting blown off. Well, not in that sense, anyway. I continued in a lightly amused tone. "If you ever want to please a woman again, you
will
tell me who wants me dead. Plain and simple."
I watched Lucky's gaze flick downward and back up. Likely, he was deciding whether he thought I actually would or not.
I would, just for reference.
"You just wanna know who put out the hit on you, right?" Lucky swallowed hard.
I nodded. Now we were getting somewhere. "That's all I need. Give me a name, and you can keep your… stuff."
Lucky took a deep breath and looked me in the eye for once. "Fine… fine. So, this guy comes up through Holland's lot, right? He wants a job done, and price isn't an object. Which means that this was a motherfuckin' jackpot for me, especially since that idiot Rod turned it down."
I nodded again. Someone with a lot of disposable income, or one who was desperate enough to mortgage their house.
He continued: "So I give the guy a meeting place. He shows up, all dressed in this freaking Armani suit and gives me a business card. Get that."
"Give me a
name
." I snapped, not in the mood for a story. I was getting impatient.
"Connor Allan." Lucky blurted. "Happy?"
My eyes narrowed. Allan? Did I even know that name?
"Yeah, whatever. Get out of here." I dismissed him with a wave of a hand, now lost in thought. Lucky got up and skittered away gratefully, probably glad to be in one piece, so to speak. He glanced back over his shoulder several times, though, before leaving the establishment.
"Does that name sound familiar?" Daisuke asked, speaking for the first time.
"Not at all." I muttered.
"Will that be a problem?"
"No. I don't need to know a guy to figure out where he lives and kill him." I shrugged. "Let's get out of here and get to work."
Daisuke helped me out of the booth (my arm was becoming a burden), and we proceeded on our way. The bartender glared at us as we passed, and I briefly wondered what her deal was.
Cold, wintry air slapped me in the face when I stepped outside, moving automatically toward the car we'd come in. The gray BMW sat parked in front; mercifully untouched. We weren't in the most desirable part of town.
Connor Allan? Who is that?
My thoughts raced after each other in circles, getting me nowhere.
He can't be a hit that I missed, looking for revenge, because I've never missed a single one.
He can't be another hitman, because if he were, I'd know him. On the off chance that I actually didn't know him, then what grudge would he have with me anyway? So he wasn't a hitman.
A rival contract boss? Not likely, even if there were any trying to make their way into the business…
Then I hit on one that seemed like it could be my answer.
A family member of someone I've killed? How oddly poetic would
that
be?
Vengeance for the murder of a loved one.
Unfortunately, that seemed like the most likely possibility.
Vengeful family members weren't likely to be fun.
I thought back… which job had been the Allan job? They would have been fairly wealthy, judging by the mention of the Armani suit… but then, maybe not. There was always that black sheep of the family.
Ugh. This isn't helping me any
.
"Do you recall an Allan job, Dai?" I asked conversationally as we got in the car. "At all?"
"Vaguely. But I wasn't on that job… it was just you. I remember now." Daisuke shrugged. "Upper North End house, you said. The guy had money."
I almost jumped from the sudden recollection: Scott Allan. That's who the target had been.
The details of that job came back in a flash, now that I remembered that there had only been two assignments in that area in the past five years. It had been a quick, clean kill, one .45 ACP round in the back of the skull. Mob execution style.