Bullets Are My Business (9781101616413) (4 page)

The end came when No-Neck reappeared. Quill and I were shooting darts at Duffy's, a little joint in the midst of skid row. We were having a pretty decent time overall and it seemed that the gentlemen callers were in hiding that night. It was just a little after midnight when No-Neck walked in. We saw each other immediately and I could see the fury rise into his eyeballs right away.

“Hey, you!” It appeared that his manners were the same as they had been at our last meeting. I didn't even acknowledge his presence. I stepped up to the line and took my shot. If he really wanted to start something, he'd come to me. I couldn't imagine him being that stupid again. I was down to my last dart when I felt a hand on my upper arm. I guess I was wrong, he really was that stupid. The arm pulled and turned me around.

“I'm talking to you, pal,” No-Neck growled. I nodded.

“I got that,” I told him. “I was ignoring you.” For one reason or another, my response didn't sit well with him. I started to turn back to the dart board when I heard the faint click of a gun being cocked. He nodded at me, knowing full well that he had my complete attention. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“You got something to say, then say it.”

“I plan on it.” No-Neck motioned toward Quill. “She's stealing my clientele. That means that I'm owed some money.”

“She hasn't been stealing your so-called clients,” I told him. “She's with me. Now get back to whatever rock you climbed out from under before someone gets hurt.”

“If she's with you, then you owe me some dough,” No-Neck said, “because she's still doing her business just like she always did.” I looked over my shoulder at Quill and I knew right away that No-Neck wasn't lying. Her eyes were welled with something that resembled tears and she gave me a tiny shrug. That was when I felt the gun barrel against my ear. No-Neck laughed a little. “So, you gonna pay with cash or blood?” I clenched the fist that was still holding the dart. This was getting irritating, and if I wasn't careful, it was going to get painful.

“Given the choice, it looks like I'm paying with blood.” I don't think that No-Neck was expecting that response. He froze for a split second. That was all I needed. I moved my head out of the way just as No-Neck pulled off a round. The blast was deafening that close to my ear, but it could've been worse. I grabbed hold of No-Neck's wrist and bent it back until it snapped and the gun clattered to the floor. I moved my hand up fast and rammed the dart in his throat and yanked it hard to the right. No-Neck's body went rigid for a moment and then he went down, clutching at his gored throat. I let go of his wrist and walked out the front door of the bar.

I was in the street when Quill caught up to me. She was crying and going on about how sorry she was. I didn't stop walking. When we reached the door to my apartment, I turned to face her.

“You said you quit hooking,” I snarled at her. “You made your choice. Now get the hell out of here.”

She averted her eyes. I put my keys in the door and we went our separate ways. She had made her choice. I had made mine. The story was over.

I reach out and turn off the water. Grabbing a towel, I step from the shower. I start to leave the bathroom and then I turn around and grab her razor. I toss it in the trash. Good riddance.

I've got real problems to focus on now.

First, find Bruiser, then take care of the letter.

Late Afternoon

The world outside is crisp and serene. I get the feeling that the serenity isn't going to last long. It never does. Never has, never will.

I can feel the onset of autumn. The cold air is barely starting to move in. It feels nice against my face through the car window. It would've been a short walk to the gym, but I figure it's in my best interest to drive in case I need to get the fuck out of Dodge in a hurry.

Hopefully, I won't have to hit the ground running. Problem is, it's never been that easy. I doubt my luck is going to change at this point. I certainly don't want to let my guard down. I did that once before. When I left Campbell's employ, it was all because I didn't agree with the way he wanted me to run a hit. The hit started out just like any other. Someone was turning in state's evidence and was going to finger Campbell for one thing or another. What the charges were didn't really matter. What did matter was that, if Campbell got the finger pointed at him, he would be forced to go to trial, and inevitably, he'd go to jail. Campbell obviously didn't want that, so I was to rub this person out. I was told that the subject would be alone at home and that it would be a simple in-and-out job. I showed up at the house, jimmied the lock, and entered the perimeter. I heard voices coming from the living room, and as I came around the corner, gun leveled and finger on the trigger, I had only a single second to pause before I fired off a round. Campbell had left out a very important detail on the hit, I saw. Sitting in the living room of the house, now looking up at me with wide, wild eyes filled with the ultimate terror any human being can be subject to, was woman in her thirties. Sitting on her lap was a kid. Thankfully, the woman was too spooked to scream. I kept her calm, putting the gun away. I don't kill women. I don't kill children. Those are my most important rules. I was going to leave, just turn around and walk right back out the door, but my eyes fixed on the toddler sitting on her lap and I realized that, if I left, Campbell would just send someone else to take care of this job. I told her she had three minutes to grab only the bare essentials for her and her little guy, put them in a suitcase, and put the suitcase in her car. She hesitated for a moment, letting it all sink in, but when she got her bearings, she moved like lightning. Four minutes later, I had her in her car and I told her to drive until she couldn't drive anymore. She thanked me with a kiss on the cheek and then she was gone.

Just like that, my world turned upside down. Campbell had known that this informant was a woman. I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt, just as I knew that I was done with Campbell's employ. I couldn't work for someone that would kill a dame. Don't ask me why. It's a principle. After I watched her taillights fade into the distance, I drove back to Campbell's place and told him I was through. I really wasn't sure what to expect in his reaction. I banged into his office packing heat, willing to use it if I had to but hoping I wouldn't. Surprisingly, Campbell was absolutely passive about my departure. He shook my hand and wished me well, reminding me, however, that, once I left his employ, I was never welcome back. I told him I understood and that was that. Levi Maurice was on his own and everything was kosher.

For a while.

It wasn't until a couple of months later that I realized how wrong I was. That sly son of a bitch led me right into a trap with his coolness and I was too naïve to realize. Campbell taught me a lot about this life, but the most important lesson came after I left his employ. That's when I learned that I should always be on point. In this business, death is always just a misstep away. I don't want to have any missteps when I go to meet Bruiser.

I pull into the parking lot of the gym and kill the engine. I open the door and move my flask to my lips before I get out of the car. Popeye has his spinach, I have booze. The gym seems to be in full swing. I reach up and adjust my shoulder holster under my jacket. Two guns should be enough to subdue the meatheads inside if the going gets rough. I have my drop piece attached to my calf just to be safe. Switchblade in my pocket. You never know what kind of assholes you're going to meet at the gym.

I wish I had a grenade.

I push open the glass doors and walk inside as two gargantuan men walk out. One of them gives me a look. I reach into my jacket and wrap my fingers around my piece. I grit my teeth, trying to convince myself that they're not worth it. Apparently, I'm right. They keep walking. They're nothing more than your average run-of-the-mill meatheads. Don't need to waste any bullets on them.

I hold the door for a pretty young lady coming in behind me. She smiles as she passes. I can tell by the quizzical look on her face that she recognizes me from somewhere but she can't place it. For a second, I get the feeling I know her, too, but I couldn't tell you from where if you put a gun to my head. Or when, for that matter. I've met a lot of people and seen a lot of girls. I wouldn't doubt that I know her, but at this particular juncture, she's just one of many. I'm sure I'll recall our connection at some inopportune moment. Until then, I'm content to go about my business as per usual. I follow her up to the front desk.

“Towel?” grunts the ape behind the counter. The girl nods, takes her towel, and makes her way to the treadmill. My gaze trails her skintight spandex shorts as she walks away. Her ass is hypnotic. I could think of a thousand things I'd like to do with it, but I decide to stop there. My mission is to get the scoop on this Bruiser character, not have fantasies about random women I encounter. I can do the latter any day. Preferably a day when I don't have a contract out on me. I unglue my eyes from the broad's ass and I step up to the counter. The ape standing there has been staring at me staring at the girl. Now he narrows his eyes at me.

“Whaddaya want?” the ape snarls. I suppose I don't look like I want a towel. Maybe the leather jacket gives that away. I place my hands on the counter and try my best to be diplomatic.

“I have a couple of questions.” My voice is lowered. The ape lowers his eyebrows so that they're at the same pitch as my voice, making him look even more Cro-Magnon than he did when I first walked in.

“This ain't some sort of fuckin' information booth,” he rumbles. “If you ain't lifting, then you should probably walk away.”

He sneers at me and moves his index and middle fingers like a pair of thick, hairy legs, motioning toward the door. I grit my teeth and ask myself the same question I always do when I'm looking for simple answers to terribly simple questions. Why do people have to be so difficult? In a way, this has become something of a mantra for me. If I did yoga, that would be what I'd repeat over and over again for the duration of the class. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter how many times I ask myself the question, I have yet to receive an answer and shit never changes. I take a deep breath. So much for doing this the easy way.

I lean over the counter and motion for the ape to do the same. As I suspected, he's not a bright fellow, so he leans closer. He's close enough so that I can smell the revolting mixture of Red Bull on his breath and sweat on his skin. My hand darts up and grabs hold of the cartilage of his nose and I pull him even further over the counter. With my other hand, I remove my blade from my pocket and place the tip under his jaw. I hope no one in the lifting area can see this. If I'm playing my cards right, it looks like we're having an intense private conversation. I don't need all those gorillas on my back. Unfortunately, I can't risk taking a glance over my shoulder to see if the people beyond the chest-high wall that divides the reception area from the lifting area are watching. That would blow what little cover I have. I don't want to draw any more attention to myself than I already have by being the only guy in this place that's not wearing jogging pants and sweating profusely. I gotta be fast with this interrogation.

“You're not a pretty man,” I whisper to him, “and if you don't start cooperating, you're going to be getting a whole hell of a lot less pretty. Do you follow?” The ape nods as best he can. I stick the blade into his chin a little harder to illustrate my point. He winces. I can see that he knows I'm not messing around. I can also see that he's scared by the beads of sweat that have started popping out on his caveman forehead.

“You ain't gonna walk out of here alive, shithead,” he whispers. The ape's threat is missing the edge that he's going for due to the hushed tone he's forced to use. Apparently the knife blade is doing what I want it to do. He's angry enough to keep talking to me like he's not scared, but at least he's doing it quietly.

“That's a chance that I'm taking, isn't it?” I ask him. He doesn't answer, just stares a hole through me. “So, I'll deal with that on my own. Now, I'm looking for a guy who goes by the name of Bruiser. You heard of him?”

“I don't know anyone named Bruiser.” I can tell that the ape is lying by his blatant lack of profanity. I pull on his nose and dig the knife in a little deeper. Small beads of blood drip onto the countertop. He winces and inhales sharply. The muscles in his neck tense up.

“I'm going to give you a second chance. One more chance to come up with the correct answer. Bruiser. Heard of him?”

The ape seems to be reviewing his options. I put a little bit more pressure on the knife, hoping that might remind him that this is the only option he needs to think about right now.

“Yeah, I heard of him. He ain't fucking here right now.”

I roll my eyes. This is taking far too long, “Where is he?”

“How the hell should I know, asshole? He had the day off. Said he had some shit to take care of.” The ape is coming clean. Good for him. Hell, good for me.

“When's he here next?”

“He'll be here tomorrow.”

“When?”

“In the goddamned morning.” Tears are starting to well up in the ape's hate-filled eyes. It's time to make a break for it before he causes a scene.

“I'm gonna let you go,” I tell him, “but before I do, I need you to make me a promise. You gotta promise me that you're not going to call Bruiser. You're not gonna inform him that I was here. In the swing of things, you never saw me. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

I nod. “If you do tell him, I'm going to find out, and when I find out, I'll make sure that the next time I come in here, you'll find my knife digging deeper and faster into your other head.” I lower my eyes to make sure that he knows what I'm saying. He follows my gaze.

“So,” I continue, “you better make certain that you got it. For your sake.”

“I fucking got it.”

I narrow my eyes at him and give the knife one final push. “Good. Now I'm going to walk away. You're going to pretend this never happened. You're just going to grab a towel and get yourself cleaned up. I'm sure you can find a Band-Aid.” He blinks and I release his nose. I pull my knife back. I close the blade and return it to my pocket. The ape grabs a towel and shoves it under his bleeding chin. He sets his jaw and glares at me. I point at him.

“Don't forget,” I tell him. “I'll be back here tomorrow.”

The ape nods. I walk out the door and head for my car without looking back.

“Levi? Levi Maurice?”

Shit. I haven't even made it ten feet from the entryway. All I know is that I'm not going down without a fight. I grab hold of my gun and turn around, ready to unholster and shoot. Thankfully, I don't have to. The person who said my name is the girl with the great ass that I held the door for. I let go of my gun and take my hand from inside my jacket. Shit, I'm getting jumpy. Adrenaline was kicking in and I'm not paying as much attention to detail as I should be. If I had been, I would've known that the voice was too high to be a thug.

“Yeah?” I respond, not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Without knowing who this girl is, it makes it a difficult dance. I'd obviously speak to her differently depending on if she was a random girl I brought home from the bar or if she was one of my marks' widows. I'm hoping it's the former. That would be a nice little gold star on my report card.

“I knew you looked familiar” She laughs. I feel like a fool. Should I know this girl? Is she a floozy from the bar? All I know is that she is incredibly attractive. She's even better to look at from the front. Her toned body is glistening with sweat. Her sports bra is cut low and the cleavage that's out to say hello is outstanding. I want to eat ice cream off of her perfectly flat abs. I let my imagination run wild for a moment or two, fully picturing what it would be like to have her tan, shapely legs wrapped around my lower body. If I had been with this girl, I would most definitely remember. My brain would never let me forget that. So where the fuck do I know her from? She cocks her head as if reading my mind. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“I'm sorry,” I apologize. I decide that it's in my best interest just to be straightforward. I can't see myself having anything to gain from lying, because I would most definitely be caught immediately, seeing as how she knows my name and I can't even think of a guess as to what her name is. She laughs again and puts her hands out to her sides as if to show herself off. “Megan. Megan Basset!”

“Chenille's friend,” I mutter. I would've never guessed that in a goddamned million years, but now that she said that, I don't feel quite as foolish. Chenille is my kid sister. She moved to New York a few years ago for work. Megan graduated with her. I quickly do the calculations in my head, realizing that she must just be over twenty-one. She was a forgettable kid when she was palling around with my sister, but she's definitely become a knockout since then. I'm just about speechless, but I manage to string some words together so I don't just stand here staring at her like a fiend.

“I didn't even recognize you,” I admit. “You've certainly grown up.”