Motown Showdown (21 page)

“Are you serious?”

“Jesus, you are a fucking nag,” I snap. “You wanted a drink, met you for a drink. You wanted to fuck; I was down to fuck. Had I known you were a chatty bitch, I’d have jacked off and saved myself the headache.”

“You’re an asshole!”

“No shit,” I say tossing some cash on the table. I was an asshole; this was not news. She was not Camo; this was also not news.

Fuck they had a lot of questions. Is she safe? Who is that? What happens now? Will I kill anybody? Do they get to kill anybody? Can they watch? Telling them to shut up did nothing, so I went with ignoring them. Both of them thought Camo was She-Jesus. Neither one are freaked in the slightest about what we do. Shit, given the chance I know my sister would sign up and I realized how alike we were. Kandace is a healer, but she’s also got a mean streak. They were worried for her, yeah well, they have no idea what this kind of worry really feels like. If keeping them safe wasn’t priority one, I’d be out there gutting that bastard. Instead, I was ordered inside like a child.

With the
lovebirds
as she calls them safe in the hall, when she walks in I waste no time losing my God damn mind. Grabbing her and pulling her into the kitchen, I get up in her face which meant bending at the waist and leaning in.

“The fuck,” I growl caging her in. “Were you thinking?”

“Whisky bats for team Camo, my guys are secure. We need to start---”

Grabbing her shoulders to get her attention I go from pissed to fucking insane. “The fuck were you thinking approaching
that
motherfucker in broad daylight, Camo!”

“Don’t fucking yell at me!” she pushes off hard. “I know what I’m doing!”

“You say I’m sloppy? You could have been picked off like that!” I snap my fingers for effect. “That piece of shit threw down against you days ago and today you have a fucking Motown showdown with him on a residential street without backup?”

“He was smart enough to change his mind,” she says calmly but
fuck calm
. “Pilgrim is not a threat to him but,
I
am.”

“This is still a game to you, isn’t it? You think playing in a chat room with a bunch of average hitters gives you an edge? Pilgrim has more training than any of us; he may sit behind a desk, but he is not docile. Pilgrim logs into the wire because he’s plotting, not because he---”

Getting in my face, her own face goes hard, and it’s a look I’ve never seen before. I didn’t like it. “Pilgrim logs into the wire because
I
allow it. I let him see what I want him to see, period.”

“You don’t fucking get it; he has resources you’ll never have!”

“No one,” she says shoving me again. “Has more resources than I do because I am the wire.”

“It’s a fucking website for egotistical hitters!”

“I don’t think you get it,” she says with a wicked smile. “
I am
the wire.”

“Jesus, Camo---”

“Clearly you lack listening skills,” she says hopping up to sit on the counter. “When I say I am the wire, I mean that outside of your agency the rest belong to me. As in, wait for it…
I own them
. Every last one. You think you get jobs?
My
agencies get jobs; yours gets the leftovers, my scraps because your handler is a fuckwad. The jobs he’s been getting for you aren’t sanctioned, they’re setups and deep down you know it. So listen up, Pilgrim wants you out because you no longer trust him. He knows I protect you, he also knows I want you on my side, this is not a secret. Should you come to me, join forces, Pilgrim has nada. You are all he’s got. He orders you to kill me, but you don’t because I’m fucking awesome and outside of a serious
surprise,
you couldn’t anyway. So I’ll say it one more time, I am the wire. I die, Pilgrim steps in to take control of the wire, get it?”

At a loss I just stare. It was either that or strangle her. All these years, all the games and she was the puppet master. “This isn’t about you, Gadget,” she reverts back to my call name. “This is about keeping Pilgrim from having the chance to step in should I fall. When this is over, and you’re safe, I’m shutting the wire down. If any of the players were smart, they saved their money and could live happily never working again. Pilgrim dies, wire closes down and---”

“You played me,” I accuse backing away from her. “You fucking played me against Pilgrim.”

“Pilgrim played you,” she counters. “And you let him. I, however, refuse to let anything happen to you. So I start a few rumors on the wire, Pilgrim pounces like the greedy bastard he is and in his desperation to be king shit he picked the wrong mark. The mark
should
have been me, but it was
you
.”

“I’m done.”

“I’m not,” she says jumping down. “No one was going to go against me and he knew that. He also knows I distract you so he used a hit on me to divide your attention, and it worked. Then he takes you out of the picture he wins. He wins because you’re my only weakness.” I gave her the look that said,
fuck off
. “You die, I can no longer focus. If I can’t focus then, he has an opening. You’ve breached, Gage; he set it up, and you executed it without question. I’ve played along pretending I’m too busy lusting after you to see what he’s doing, but I see it. I’ve covered for you because I know you wanted to trust him. But I couldn’t cover for you anymore. So yes, I used the tools given to me to draw him out. I had no choice. Pilgrim wants control, and he wants to make his presence known in the underground. The destruction he would cause would spread like a disease, no one would be safe including my guys. I’m afraid I can’t let that happen.”

“You are a real piece of work,” I tell her shaking my head. I couldn’t even look at her right now. I had a hard enough time knowing my partner played me. Now I’ve got her admitting she played me too. “Yeah, you used the tools. You used your God damn face against me. Kept me guessing, wanting it, but never getting it. You don’t need makeup to wear a false face. It doesn’t matter which version of you I get, it’s all bullshit. You’re fake as fuck, and you took the game too far.”

Then backing out of the kitchen, I grabbed my keys needing the hell away from her.

“The day he learns the truth might be the day you lose him,” ~Bobo (Well duh, hence me not telling him said truth)

Since he took off, the lovebirds looked lost and uncomfortable. I didn’t have the time or the skill to explain myself, so I didn’t bother. I didn’t understand it and I didn’t expect them to. Grabbing my makeup and silicone, I set up my workspace quietly. Bobo sent the job over yesterday. But recent intel showed them close to my location, so I was taking advantage.

Two hits, public, long range.

Looking at my reflection, I decided that I hated it. Obviously Gadget didn’t see me and he never would. For some reason he thought this was a silly game to me. A game, yes. Silly, hardly. Applying the primer, I glance up to see Kandace at the door watching. Using the adhesive, I smear it along my hairline to hold my temporary face in place. While that dries, I grab my clothes laying the pieces out on the bed.

“You’ve got this down to a science,” she notes.

“Been doing it a long time.”

“He’ll come back,” she assures me.

“I’ve got a job anyway,” I tell her. “Could you hand me that gray bag?”

Coming into the room she picks it up, brings it to me and sits next to me. Applying the mask, I smooth out the creases and Kandace pulls my hair back keeping it from my face. For me, this was weird. I never did this in front of anyone but because it was Kandace, I didn’t bother to hide. Playing with my hair, she catches my eyes in the mirror. “I don’t know him like you do, Camo. But I believe that everything you’ve done was for the greater good and his life. In time, he will too.”

Turning to face her, I opt for the truth. “Whether he comes around or doesn’t is irrelevant. Your brother picks and chooses when he wants to be a team player, Kandace. In my world, that’s dangerous. He’s focused on Pilgrim’s betrayal, not what that means for everyone involved. I’m moving forward as planned. If he wants to pout about it, he’s welcome to but I’ve other things on my mind than appeasing his bruised ego.”

Standing up, I grab my bag and head out. “You don’t have a car,” she says softly.

“I don’t need one for this.”

“Be safe, Camo.”

“Always am.”

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I nod at Roman before hitting the steps. I wasn’t to the driveway when he pulled up. “I’ll drive,” he says leaning over to open my door. This was business, so putting aside our bullshit, I climb in and give him the location. My guess was Rome alerted him and he was spoiling for another fight. But when I was working I had to put personal shit aside. Right now, this included Gadget.

I was set up on the roof just above the patio at the Chene Park amphitheater. No lie, Jazz Wednesday’s was amazing. Too bad it’s not Wednesday, and I wasn’t here for a show. Instead, I was watching him struggle to get up here next to me. At the moment, he was making so much noise that I was close to kicking him off the roof.
Fucking amateur.
Through my scope, I count the bystanders. People out walking, enjoying the lakefront. Bike riders and the DNR crew making sure boats were following the rules. Since the city rehabbed this area, it’s gotten busy. I liked that it was. I liked that people felt safe enough to come back here. Like the two idiots who wanted to handle business in public for instance…

“Could you climb any higher?” he says catching his breath.

“Yes,” I admit. “But you’d stroke out, so I stayed central.”

“You’re visible from the east,” he says crunching in.

“I know,” I say moving some.

“Who’s the mark?”

“Shush,” I snap.

Adjusting the dial, I see the men shake hands under the gazebo. I’ve got a group of innocents that will be in the hot zone in thirty seconds. It will be another fifteen before they’re clear. Another comes from the restroom now in my cross hairs. “Innocents,” he says annoying me. “You can’t take the shot like this, too risky.” Ignoring him, I watch both men and slide my right elbow out. “You’ve got bikers at two o’clock,” he says. “Strollers too.”

“I
know
,” I snap again.

“You can’t take the fucking shot,” he says breathing on me. Tuning him out, I close my left eye, let out a breath and contract my finger… “---showing off,” he continues. “DNR agents everywhere, kids, fucking speed walkers. Stupid to do it---”
Breathe Camo, just breathe.
“We’ll be compromised. No getting off this roof unnoticed.”

Inhaling, I calm myself.

Exhaling, I squeeze.

Throat shot, clean, target one eliminated.

Dialing in the final blow, Gadget literally loses it when he sees the guy fall. Adjusting my elbow, I’ve got less than three seconds before the other target’s brain can assimilate what happened and react. Gadget bumps me, and I lose my focus. “Fuck!” I yell directly in his face. Reaching into the bag, I snag my gloves on, grab the syringe and run across the roof to drop down to the patio. The final target is spooked and checking his surroundings, ready to run. Checking my own surroundings, I’ve got fucking innocents all over. If that body is noticed before I can clear the steps, I’m fucked.

Backing away nearly in hysterics, the mark runs for it. Using the trail, I make myself blend as a runner. Veering off the path with no other eyes on me, I tag the mark by the waist making it look like a clumsy collision. Shoving the syringe deep into his side, I take him with me when we roll. Almost instantly he begins to sag and with all my strength I haul him into the darkness of the bathroom. Making sure it’s clear, I kneel and see one set of feet.

Shit. Occupied.

Opening the stall, I pull him in and sit him down. He was dazed but terrified. Good. I even went so far as to unzip his pants faking a piss. Checking my gloves they were secure and leaning forward, I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze. His arms don’t come up to stop me. They can’t. But he knows he’s dying, it’s in his eyes.

The stall next to ours, flushes. The man washed his hands. Points for hygiene. He exits.

My guy is fading, my hands are getting sore, my stitches were screaming and I needed coffee.

Applying more pressure, he jerks once, twice, a third and then it was over. Reaching in his pocket, I snag his phone for safe keeping. Leaving the door locked from the inside, I crawl under, check my surroundings and find my way back to the roof. Gadget was seething, I could feel it. However, his anger wasn’t even on the same playing field as mine.

Loading everything into my pack, I scale down and make it back to the truck several minutes before he does. Throwing his door open, he unlocks mine, and I climb in saying nothing.
If he opens his mouth, I will kill him
. Wisely he didn’t.
At least, not until we made it back.