Enforcer (28 page)

“I guess,” he said, hoping to drop the subject suddenly, even though he’d wanted to talk about it for weeks.

She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “I don’t have a choice in this. I do what I have to do to survive. If I’m good at it, pretend to enjoy it, I get better clients, ones who aren’t interested in hurting me or belittling me. I also don’t get the wrong attention from the block guards or the boss.”

Connor had met some of the block guards who patrolled the hallways of the apartment building for Ojacarcu’s people. They took the appointments and kept records of which girls made how much money, which girls were getting complaints, and which girls weren’t performing other side tasks like giving freebies to the guards or running dope on the side for their them.

“So you hate doing it with all of these men?” he asked, bracing for an outburst.

“It’s just sex,” she said. “All men want sex. I spread my legs, they stick it in, sometimes I put it in my mouth or my hand, some even want me to use my feet. Some just want to watch me touch myself. Others want me to touch another woman. If they aren’t trying to hurt me, then I just do what I’m supposed to do. I pretend to like it because they want to feel good, like a king, like a god.”

“So you just shut your brain off and let them use your body?”

Jera shrugged. “Whatever. Like I said, it’s just sex.” She looked closely at him. “Are you jealous or something? Why do you care?”

“I’m not jealous,” he replied.

“Then why do you give a shit?”

Connor thought about it, but didn’t want to give her a truthful answer. “I don’t,” he lied, “I was just curious.”

“Bullshit.”

“Whatever. So you just do it to survive, and if it happens to feel good once in a while, that’s like a perk?”

“Fuck you.”

They rode in silence to a large ranch-style house off Ten Mile Road. Connor had been to the house before, and had no reason to escort her to the door. She’d bring the money when she was done. He pulled out his phone and typed out a text to Dana, but erased it before sending it. He was getting plenty of practice at doing that.

He waited out the time by surfing the web for hockey news, checking out some funny videos the few friends he kept on social sites had posted, even searched his own name in Google. When he was bored of that, he typed in Travis’ name. He was just about to swipe the button to execute the search when the passenger door opened. He froze for a moment, sure Jera would see the name and immediately start shrieking to everyone within a mile that he was a murderer.

He closed the browser and locked his phone. Jera paid him no attention, going straight for the mirror behind the sun visor.

“Where to?” Connor asked her.

“Home,” she said, still working on her face in the mirror.

“You’re done?”

“Yes,
father
,” she said.

“Good.”

“You got a hot date or something?” she asked, flipping the visor up and looking at him.

“No, I just want to go home. No offense, but I got better things to do with my time than this.”

“If you don’t have a date then that means you would rather masturbate than drive me around.”

“Sure, that’s valid,” he said, pulling back out onto Ten Mile Road. “You could include drinking a gallon of bleach in that also.”

Jera looked like she was about to shift into harpy mode, but stared straight ahead instead. Connor waited for her to say something, but the only words he got from her was her first appointment time the next day when he dropped her off.

*****

“Come on, man, please do this for me,” Connor said into the phone.

“No,” Petre’s voice said back to him. “It is not my responsibility. It is your assignment, and I don’t want to get involved.”

“Your English is pretty fucking good when you don’t want to help me, you know.”

“The answer is still no.”

“Listen, you owe me. Don’t be a traitor to me twice. I took a few fists, including one of yours.”

“I apologized for that. I don’t owe you anything. You made your own bed, now sleep in it.”

Connor frowned. Petre always butchered phrases like that. He wondered if he knew the
real
Petre. The one talking to him on the phone sounded just like the Petre he’d worked with for three years off and on, regularly in the last six months. But he didn’t talk like Petre.

“Look,” Connor tried. “You’re always claiming you’re my friend. Sometimes you wave a big flag around, proclaiming it just in case I ever forget. Are you my friend or not?”

“I am your friend,” Petre said after a long pause. “What is so important that you must risk getting me in trouble over?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Connor said.

“So now you are going to be Dracul’s protege? Trust no one? I’m proud of you, Connor. You are learning.”

“Fuck you. Are you my friend or not?”

“This must be important. I have an idea of what it is, but don’t worry, I am your friend. I say nothing.” Petre’s words began to walk back to the broken English that Connor had become used to, but it sounded fake to his ears now.

“You don’t know shit,” Connor said. “Pick her up at noon.”

Connor ended the call and got out of the Lincoln. He unlocked his apartment door and went inside, wary that Dracul might be there to greet him. He’d made a habit ever since that night of doing a full circuit through his small apartment, checking behind every door just to be sure. He felt shame at his paranoia, but it had unnerved him more than the beating he’d suffered at the man’s hands.

When he found nothing, he texted Dana to let her know he was coming over. He grabbed fresh clothes and stuffed them into his overnight bag. The two had progressed to keeping toothbrushes at each other’s place, though they rarely spent time at his apartment anymore. Dana knew something had happened, but Connor refused to tell her about Dracul having a key, or the ability to crack the locks on his door with ease. He was afraid he would end up having to tell her about Jera.

CHAPTER 23

He woke when Dana got out of bed. Murky sunlight tried to penetrate the blinds in her bedroom. He laid still, listening to the sounds of her going to the bathroom, then firing up her electric toothbrush. When she was done, she came into the bedroom and saw him watching her.

“May I help you?” she asked with a grin.

“What’s with the waking up and getting your day started thing?” he complained. “I thought you had the day off.”

“I do,” she said, hopping onto the bed and straddling him. “And because you somehow lined up the planets and achieved the same feat, I plan on spending it right here until we get too hungry to continue. But I’d rather not have troll breath, if that’s okay with you.”

“Come here and let me breathe on you,” he said, grabbing her arms to try and pull her face down to his.

“Gross,” she laughed, slapping his arms away. She wiggled a little, her laugh turning into an exaggerated expression of curiosity.

“Urgh. Don’t do that,” he grunted.

“But you’re so hard!” she exclaimed, making him laugh.

“Because I have to pee. Don’t press on it and don’t make me laugh unless you want a story to tell your friends about how you broke up with me.”

Dana pouted, putting her weight on it one more time before he growled and lifted her off, lightly throwing her to the mattress. She tried to grab him, but he escaped and darted into the bathroom. He finished his business and hurried back to bed. They’d spent their first night together in a couple of weeks like two wild animals during mating season.

Connor’s mind had been surprisingly free of any thoughts but Dana. Getting Petre to drive Jera around for a day had emptied his mind of everything, allowing him to focus on Dana. His only worry was his inability to find the right moment to tell Dana he was in love with her. That would scare her enough, he thought, so he figured he’d leave off the part about possibly wanting to spend the rest of his life with her.

She’d already been recruited by three tech startups in the Bay Area with two semesters to go before she received her degree. Connor was sure they could disappear in such a densely populated area as long as no one actively hunted them with a vengeance. If he refused to sign a contract extension and Ojacarcu got pissed, Connor doubted it would be enough to spend much effort to find him. If he left before then, he’d find Dracul, Petre, Vadim, or some other assassin in a tailored business suit waiting for him, sooner rather than later.

After their second round of the morning, Dana went into the kitchen to make breakfast. Connor checked his phone before following her.
Of course
, he thought, seeing a text from Petre.

Call me
was all it said.
Yeah, right,
Connor thought.
How about ‘fuck you’?

He wandered into the kitchen and stared at her for a while, grinning at her outfit, which consisted of panties and an apron. And a smile. He stepped forward and put his arms around Dana’s waist, kissing her on the neck and ear lobe.

“Stop,” she giggled, shooing him away with a spatula. “We’ll starve to death if you don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m prepared for that outcome,” he said, trying to get his hands under her apron.

She smacked his hand with the spatula and danced away from him. He was about to go after her when he heard his phone ring. Both of them saw the instant frown mirrored in the other’s face.

“What the hell?” he sighed, making for the bedroom to answer it.

“Tell them to eat shit and die!” Dana shouted after him. “This is
my
day with you!”

He grabbed the phone, not recognizing the number, debating on letting it go to voicemail.

“Hello?” he said into the phone, deciding to answer it instead.

“We must talk,” Petre said on the other end.

“What the fuck, man? Can’t I have a fucking day to myself?”

“Listen to me.” Petre’s voice was clipped and short. “I am your friend, doing your favor. But tonight we must talk. Meet me at your place. Seven o’clock.”

The line went dead before Connor could respond. He stood holding the phone, staring at it, until Dana called out from the kitchen that breakfast was ready.

“Who was it?” she asked when he sat down at the little table she had in the dining room.

“Work,” he answered.

“And…?”

“I don’t know. Something’s up. That was Petre, but he called me from a strange number.”

“What did he want?”

“Says I have to meet him at seven at my place.”

“About what?”

“He hung up on me before telling me that part,” Connor said, shrugging. “He’s still covering for me today. This is something else.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know,” Connor answered.

There were a few things he could think of that Petre would want to talk about. Jera being the most likely. Maybe Larry did something stupid again. Maybe Ojacarcu was pissed that Petre was covering for him. Ojacarcu seemed intent on teaching Connor a lesson by burdening him with the woman.

“Whatever it is, you better tell him he’s screwing with your fun time,” Dana smiled, trying to turn the mood back to the hours they still had left before he had to leave. Both of them knew he might
work
late.

“I’m sure he’ll be concerned,” Connor said, sticking out his tongue to an imaginary Petre, getting a laugh from her.

“Eat, so you have energy for more… fun.” Her sultry look made him tear into his eggs comically, pretending to shovel them into his mouth to let her know he had been thinking the same thing.

*****

Petre was waiting for him in his own Lincoln. They met at the door to Connor’s apartment, neither saying a word until they were both inside. Connor offered him a drink, Petre accepting water.

“So what’s this about? What did I do wrong this time? Should I just put my arms out and let you take a few shots at me?” Connor asked.

“I have a friend,” Petre said, his voice the unfamiliar one that didn’t have the humorous accent, full of broken English. “He works for… he knows things. Hears things. He’s heard something about Travis Benkula.”

“Shit,” Connor said, his heart lurching into his throat. “What did he hear?”

“That Travis is missing, which is nothing to be surprised about. But the other thing he heard was that the IDES had been keeping tabs on Travis for about a year. Normally my friend wouldn’t hear about such things as who was being investigated. But now that the man is missing, word has started to cross lines, and people like him who listen for such cross-talk are hearing.”

“IDES?” Connor asked.

“Idaho Drug Enforcement Service. They are like the DEA, but run by the state. Which is interesting, but not alarming. IDES is good at what they do, and they probably know many, if not all of the dealers, even ones we are personally familiar with. Ojacarcu knows this, which is why he has a lot of distance between him and such things.