Motown Showdown (4 page)

“Huh,” I say cocking my head to look up at him. I know he’s a straight shooter, but someone could have just come out and said he was an asshole. “Speaking of shit,” I start. “You’re in a bunch of it and it’s your lucky day because I’m here to help. You’re welcome.”

“Do I look like I need help?” he asks genuinely smiling at me. So this is cute, he has nooo idea.

“You don’t know…”

“That you have a price on your head?” he says rolling his eyes. “Yeah, Camo, I know.”

“No,” I counter, relieved I made it in time. “That you have a price on
yours
.”

Laughing, he attempts to turn and walk off, but I cut him off instead. “Go home, little girl,” he says with a ‘tude I did not appreciate. “I’ve got shit to do.”

Moving me out of the way was a bad idea. I was fun-sized, not little. I’ve also hit puberty, shaved my legs and killed people now. I was
not
a little fucking girl. This was also
not
how meeting him was supposed to go. He was
supposed
to worship me, tell me he’d spend his life pleasing me and carry me straight to bed. This did not happen. This pissed me off.

“You really wanna do this right now?” I say shoving him hard.

“Do
you
really wanna do this right now?” he says shoving me back (not hard though, he’s like six of me, and that would be rude).

“Yeah, I wanna do this right now. You honestly think I went to all this trouble to find you, scout for you and dig for you if I had a price on
my
head?” I ask him baffled by his train of thought. If that were the case, there would be a body count, duh.

“Who else can help you but me?”

“Your confidence is awe inspiring, Gadget. Listen to me, I don’t have a price on my head you do. It came in eight days ago, ask me from where. Ask me who ordered the hit. I’m not even going to make you for work it. That’s how partners work; we share.”

“Fuck off,” he says getting angry. “I’m done playing games with you.”

So I pushed him again. “Stop fucking pushing me,” he says pushing me back.

“You just pushed me!”

“Jesus, what are you five?” he says pushing me again.

“You know what?” I snap and then kick him right in the shin.

“For someone who kills for a living, you kick like a bitch.” Not appreciating that I sock him in the stomach. The whoosh he lets out appeases me, and I continue making my point.

“How many times have I nagged you to check the wire? Mr. I-hate-computers. Word on the wire is
you
not me. Now ask me who ordered the fucking hit.”

“What is it with you and the God damn wire?” he snaps holding his stomach. “I could give a fuck about that popularity contest. I take jobs, Camo; that’s it. I could give a shit about stats, grow the fuck up.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” I say climbing two steps to at least get eye level (still wasn’t). “I hate to do it but here it goes,” I say pushing up my sleeves to show I’m serious. “Ready?” I ask leaning in.
Oh, God he smells good
. “You owe me.”

Taking a very deep breath and calling on his patience
I see, okay no, I feel he’d rather choke me than go along with this but he had to. The fact was he did owe me. He owed me a lot.
“Who ordered the fucking hit?” he growls in my face and yep his breath was minty then when I paused before answering he grabbed me to get my attention.

He’s so handsy
…

“Pilgrim,” I say handing him my phone as proof. Scanning it, I wait patiently for him to marvel over my brilliance but a bullet to the brick cuts him short. We lock eyes and say one word in unison.
Hitter
. Sadly, we’re both competitive and start to wrestle over who was going to cover who. Throwing me, literally, into the safety of the church doors, I grab him around the middle switching positions. With him safely behind me before I can raise my gun to blind fire, he pulls me back. “I’ve got this!” I argue, pushing him back with my ass.

“I’m three times your size,” he argues pinning me to the wall. “Stop fighting me, woman! Get behind me!” Sliding quickly to the ground and between his legs, I open fire, and he snatched me up again. “Mother f---” I try and fail.

“A fucking pain,” he grunts trying to sit on me. “Only you would---”

He didn’t finish that sentence because he was on the ground holding his balls. Sinking down next to him, he eyeballs me, and I return the favor. Maybe it was a tad childish to do what I was about to do but I couldn’t help it. Leaning over and getting in his face I smile, “Told you so.”

“You’re talking war on our kind,” he grates out.

“Yep,” I confirm.

“We got lucky,” he groans sitting up. “Whoever that was sucked.”

“Time to move,” I instruct him standing up. “I’ll cover you.”

“Nice try,” he says rolling his eyes. “I’ll cover
you
.”

Finally having enough, I let him cover me because we had a war to fight, and hopefully we’d wrestle again later. But like any battle, there would be casualties, collateral damage. Looking up at the warehouse the shooter had set up in, I closed my eyes because yeah, we did get lucky.

And so it’s begun
…

“You fucking cheated,” she accuses. “No one knows what Matthew did before becoming Jesus’ disciple. Come on!”

Laughing at her outrage, I give in. “I used one of the bombs to eliminate two questions and then I guessed.”

“I still think you cheated,” she says calming down. Camo took competition to a whole new level, even when losing at Trivia Crack. Honestly, she sucked at it but she was the only thing close to a friend I had, and I cherished her.

“When can I see you?” I ask hoping for once she’ll give me a straight answer. “I’m sick of waiting.”

“It’s not time,” she says throwing a wall up. “You’ll know when it is.”

So this was the infamous Camo. I thought she’d be bigger, but I was genuinely surprised at how small she really was. The women I sought out were tall, lean, wore a lot of makeup and had big tits. I found that with her, I liked small and compact. Years of phone chatter, asking questions about her appearance, to which she lied her ass off; I was shocked she was small. Her attitude wasn’t small though, neither was her way of life. She did everything big. I was so busy looking at her body, I forgot where I was, what I was doing. Attraction is important. I could never fuck a woman, let alone get invested in a woman, I wasn’t attracted to. So sizing her up now, I was battling the contradiction yelling at me that I owed her.
I do owe her
… Thoughts of spreading her open, finding her wet and paying her back with orgasms took up my focus as long as I didn’t look up.

Thing was, her body was banging, no bullshit but, her face…

It didn’t look…
right.

This couldn’t be her true identity because if it was we both got robbed. Yes, I was a shallow asshole. But I also realized that I’d built her up to be a fantasy she clearly wasn’t. Her nose was long, chin pointy and her lips were too thin. I didn’t bother analyzing her hair because it was pulled up and away from her face.
God, she really shouldn’t draw more attention to it
… What a fucking let down.

Hearing Pilgrim’s name didn’t faze me. It was her up in my face like she could take me on
and
win that had my attention. She fucking shoved me; I shoved her back, and we started to wrestle. The woman had spirit, it was in everything she did, she radiated it. She was hyper alert I could feel it blazing like the sun burning me or maybe that was her hands on me. To contain her, I even tried sitting on her but she weaseled away and started shooting. Those shots scared the enemy away.
Great, now I owed her again.

Hauling ass to my truck and jumping in together, I take off like a shot checking for a tail and not finding one, yet. Now thoughts of Camo back there were at war with getting the fuck out of here. She put herself directly in the line of fire and if my adrenaline was anything to go by, my fear about that was through the God damn roof.
Seriously, I’ve waited years to meet her, and we just fucking fought while under fire…
Taking corners, staying on the move only when I was certain no one followed, did I tone it down.

“Start from the beginning,” I order her while finding a place to park.

“Now look who wants to talk,” she says staring out the window. “It’s a known fact you hate the wire, don’t trust it and Pilgrim knows that. Is it true he monitors for you?”

“Yeah, I hate computers.” Which was true, they were a waste of time. I had a handler; it was his job to use it not mine. Over the years, Camo has ragged on my refusal to use it. But I didn’t trust her motives any more than I trusted technology so, I only communicated with her by phone. When I wasn’t enjoying her flirting, which was all the damn time, she was keeping me ahead of the game.

And alive.

“Listen, at my last count six are on board. I’m working on getting official stats. There was brief chatter about teams too. Pilgrim said you breached protocol, had proof, and needed to be put down. Some of us are not happy about this, Gadget. We do not kill each other.” She seemed to be either choosing her words or fighting for breath; I wasn’t sure which. That’s another thing about her, she was either very free about sharing intel or, she wasn’t.

“Keep going,” I tell her. “Okay well,” she says taking a deep breath and not speaking fast enough for my liking. “Spit it out, Camo!”

“Don’t be that guy right now!” she snaps at me. “When we heard hitters were turning on hitters, we got nervous. Last I heard, the majority rejected it. Not many want to fuck with you for good reason. They fear you because you’re so mysterious. They also fear me because well, I’m me. I can only stay biased for so long, many of the guys want to know where my allegiance lies and will choose based on that. But as those rounds prove, some want the money and will kill you to get it. This can’t be sanctioned Gadget, or none of us is safe. My handler and I agreed that you needed my help…”

“Really? And?”

“Um...” she says taking another breath, this one a definite struggle. “Shit, and unless you’ve got a med kit in the trunk, I’m going to need a hospital.”

Leaning forward in my seat and seeing the blood running down her arm, I panic. To keep Camo safe, there was only one person I trusted. “I got something better than a hospital, hang on.”

“Wait! We have to get my bag. It’s in the warehouse across from the church under a white tarp on the fifth floor.” She says quickly. Grinding my jaw again, I fly over there, park, and haul ass to the fifth floor grabbing her shit then hauling more ass to get to where help is.

No two ways about it, Kandace was going to kill me.

Showing up on her doorstep without notice with a bossy female covered in blood was not going to go over well. Kandace would step up like always, but Rome was going to be a pain in my ass with the questions. The guy was over the top protective of my sister, which a brother can appreciate, especially when bringing this to them puts them in danger.

When all this shit started, I vowed that it would never touch my sister or my dads.

I hated breaking promises.

Looking over at her it bothers me that she’s quiet. The woman was a lot of things, but quiet wasn’t one of them. She was a talker, a joker, hyper, and wicked smart. After all these years of feeling her but never actually being close to her, the circumstances in which it was finally happening, were less than ideal. This was not how I saw my first time meeting her going. I’ve depended on her presence in my life even if it was just by phone and distance. Camo was the only person I could spend hours talking to, joking with, and harassing. She gave it right back, and we got each other.

I could wax poetic about her for hours, days. But it all comes down to the heart. Camo had mine, and I wanted to have hers, but you needed trust for that. Trust wasn’t something people in this business gave easily. With her though, I may not trust her motives but I did trust
her
. Camo liked games, liked control. She also just saved my ass, again. Motives aside, the woman spends her time protecting my life, so I was going to have to fuck the motives.

Her lack of looks aren’t important, winning her heart is
…

She was… unique. The way she could blend into any environment, become a shadow or the main attraction was enviable. The way she could alter her appearance was…magic. That was her then, unique and magical.

Mine
. Despite her lack of looks, I was still attracted to her.
Fucking mine
.

Holding her arm and biting back the pain, I can feel her struggle from the driver’s seat. Not once has she bitched, moaned, or begged; she simply accepted it, channeled it,
locked it down
. My circle of trust extended to my sister (who I love) and Camo (who I trust with my life). Someone takes a bullet for you though, that person may even trump your baby sister.

For a woman, she was built like an athlete, maybe a swimmer or a CrossFit junkie. Nothing on her moved, and I know this because I couldn’t stop looking when she stood in front of me. For a man who makes a living killing, finding a woman (or, in this case, her finding me) who is his equal in every way, fucked with that man’s head. Here I had a woman who spent years protecting me when all I wanted was a chance to do the same for her but she would never get close enough to let me.