Trust Me, I'm Trouble (21 page)

I purse my lips. “Just one more question.”

“What?” Dani says, impatiently.

“Is she unattractive? Maybe a little troll-like? Unusually hairy or something?”

“What?” she asks, her expression half amused, half appalled. “Why are you asking—? Never mind. No, she is actually very beautiful.”

All the wind flutters out of my sails. I’m suddenly over the conversation, so I change tack.

“You really think she knows who’s behind the contract?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Dani says, her smile fading. “But her network is more extensive than mine, and I have run out of people to ask.”

Then it occurs to me that Dani is really sticking her neck out for me this time. She’s asking an ex-girlfriend for information that can help me. That can’t be comfortable. Especially when that girlfriend is a criminal and would probably shoot Dani as soon as look at her.

“Dani, we don’t have to do this,” I say. “Mike—”

“Has no more information than I do,” Dani interrupts. “We cannot wait on this,
milaya.
Not this.”

She has a point. Contract killers are so far beyond my experience as to be in another stratosphere. The truth is, I’m scared. I want Dani to fix it, because I don’t want to die.

So instead of something useful, I say, “What does
milaya
mean?”

The assessing look she gives me makes my heart trip all over its shoelaces. “It means ‘pest.’ ”

“Really,” I say, doubtful.

She smiles and goes back to casing the restaurant.

“I actually don’t know much Ukrainian,” I say.

“I am so surprised by that.” She’s still a bit challenged when it comes to contractions, but her sarcasm is spot-on.

“Teach me something.” What? It’ll pass the time.

She’s silent for long enough that I assume she’s ignoring my request. But then she murmurs something that sounds like all the melancholy in the world wrapped up in a single sentence:
“Hoўda, hoўda-hoў, nichenќa ide, Ditochok malykh spatonќy klade.”

“Wow,” I say. “What was that?”

“It’s a lullaby Tatyana used to sing,” she says softly.

“Oh,” I say. I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do anyway. “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know,” Dani answers. And somehow the not knowing sounds worse than any fate could have been.

Hurt for her fills my chest, making my ribs ache. I want to touch her. To give the minimal, hopelessly inadequate measure of comfort I am capable of giving. But things have changed since the quarry. I’ve acknowledged things I can’t take back. So I keep my hands folded safely in my lap.

And then Han finally appears. Naturally, she is drop-dead gorgeous. Long, rippling curtain of glossy black hair. Perfect figure, strong but curved. Facial features that would make angels cry. Because, of course.

“She is here,” Dani says, as if I couldn’t see that appallingly well on my own. Dani gets out of the car, seeming to forget my presence altogether. She only has eyes for Han. I sigh and get out of the car a few beats behind her.

When Han spots Dani, she crosses her arms and glares at her. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Please, Han. I need your help.”

The note of pleading in Dani’s voice is not something I’ve ever heard before. It hurts me. She shouldn’t have to ask for anything from this woman.

“Why should—” Han starts, but then stops when she sees me. “You brought
her
here? How dare you?”

“She is just a child, Han.”

Oh…
ouch.

“She needs our protection,” Dani continues. “Like your cousin Lydia, remember?”

I can’t believe I got out of the car for this. I could be eating corn nuts right now, instead of feeling marginalized and pathetic.

“Except, unlike my cousin, she’s a traitor to our kind.”

Our kind? Seriously? “If you’re referring to me taking down Petrov, you’d have done the same thing if he were going to kill you and everyone you ever loved,” I snarl, ignoring Dani’s quelling gesture. “And yeah, I
did
take him down. The leader of a major Ukrainian crime syndicate. You should show me more respect.”

Han’s face twists in fury, and she lunges at me.

Dani intercepts her, holding her back. “We are in the open. This is not the place.”

“On the contrary, I think this is the perfect place,” Han says. Then she draws a gun from an underarm holster and aims it directly at my heart.

D
ani moves so fast she blurs, twisting the gun out of Han’s hand and wrestling her to her knees. I feel light-headed and sick. No matter how many times someone points a gun at me, I’m never going to get used to it.

“Don’t be stupid, Han. We are on a busy street in broad daylight.”

“What the hell do you care?” Han says bitterly.

“I do care.” Dani glares intensely at Han for several moments before gradually letting her up.

Han tosses her perfectly mussed hair over her shoulder in a haughty gesture, as if she’d planned for it to go that way all along. Then she stalks into the restaurant without a backward glance.

I notice that Dani still has Han’s gun, which makes me feel a little better. Not much, but a little. Dani doesn’t even bother to look at me before following Han into the restaurant. I debate between going in and taking off. On the one hand, I feel like someone’s been carving a thousand cuts into my heart. On the other, I’m
not
“just a child,” and I’m not proving Dani right by acting like one. I need answers, and if this woman has them, well, I can live with a lot of cuts.

It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust when I enter the darkened restaurant. But I spot Han sitting at a table just behind a giant saltwater fish tank. Dani is pulling out a chair across from her. I feel like a third wheel, but it’s my life that hangs in the balance, so I walk up and take the chair sticking out into the aisle. Which means I’m sitting between Han and Dani like some kind of mediator or marriage counselor or something.

“I wasn’t really going to shoot her,” Han says without preamble. “Even though I have every reason to.”

Dani slouches back in her chair, her posture deceptively relaxed. But her expression is hard.

“Do you know who put the contract out on me?” I ask. I’m done letting Dani take the lead.

“Stay out of this, little girl,” Han snaps at me. “The grown-ups are talking.”

Okay, putting up with Dani calling me a kid is one thing. Letting this chick get away with it is something else entirely. So I get up and deliberately push my chair to the table across the aisle from us. Then I slide into Dani’s lap like I’ve done it a million times.

“Needed a booster seat,” I explain. “You were saying?”

Dani’s hands press into my hips as she pushes me gently but firmly off her lap. “You are not helping,” she says reprovingly.

And she’s right. I shouldn’t be antagonizing our source. I should be manipulating her. Time to get my head back in the game.

“We don’t need her,” I say, crossing my arms and sniffing disdainfully. “She probably doesn’t know anything anyway. Let’s just go.” Then I make a determined move in the direction of the door.

Jilted lovers are ridiculously suggestible. The one thing better than getting back an ex you didn’t want to lose is proving to that ex in whatever way possible that she made a huge mistake in dumping you. Han wants Dani to be indebted to her. Plus, she wants to one-up me. There’s no way she’d let me be the one to end the conversation.

Sure enough, Han’s hand snakes out and grabs my arm before I can go two steps.

“You want what I know? It’s going to cost you,” she says.

“
I
am asking, so I will pay your fee,” Dani says.

I could kick Dani. She’s going to drive the price through the roof if she doesn’t shut the hell up.

Han narrows her eyes, conflicting thoughts flashing through them. “A life for a life,” she says.

Dani’s expression goes dark. I recognize it. She had the same look just before she shot Petrov.

“Done,” she says.

“No,” I say. Screw negotiations. I won’t be responsible for this. “No more deals, Dani.”

She ignores me, which makes me want to strangle her. It’s like we’re on totally different sides.

Han’s gaze is fixed on Dani. “I don’t know who the source is, but the contract is active. There’s a call up on the message board. Several of my associates have expressed interest in it, though none have officially engaged, as far as I know.”

“What are the specs?” Dani asks.

“Kill order, but there are special instructions. Whoever it is wants to torture the child before killing her, which says personal vendetta to me. I try to stay away from those—too messy. But I was tempted this time.”

“The rate is that good?” Dani asks, her tone suggesting deepening worry.

“Quarter-of-a-mil good.”

Dani falls silent, a muscle popping in her jaw as she thinks. “When was it posted?”

“Yesterday.”

“Dani, don’t even think it,” I say, knowing already she won’t listen.

“What are the contact instructions?”

“A list of references messaged directly to the poster.”

“Can you send the message for me?” Dani asks.

“I said
no.
” I slam my hand down on the table between them. The other patrons scattered throughout the dining area shoot me disapproving glares. “I’m not letting this happen.”

Han laughs at me. “You’re wasting your breath, grifter. The deal is struck. Besides, that look on her face?” She points at Dani. “Nothing changes her mind once she gets that look. Consider it carved in stone.”

“We’ll see about that,” I say, though the last thing I want is to be fighting Dani along with everyone else.

Wrapping up the conversation took way more words and longing looks than I’d have liked. Han still has it bad for Dani, and Dani certainly still cares about Han. It’s revolting, really.

The car ride back to Mike’s involves considerably less prattling on my part and no corn-nut crunching whatsoever. I’m not feeling terribly confident in the enemy-bone-crushing department right now.

I can tell Dani doesn’t know what to say to me. She doesn’t get why I’m so moody. It’s both hilarious and depressing. Our whole relationship is textbook transference. She’s using me as a Tatyana stand-in. I should have known from the beginning she thought of me that way. And it
absolutely
should not hurt this much.

“I’m sorry I called you a yappy puppy,” Dani says as we pull to a stop.

I unbuckle my seat belt. “I am a yappy puppy,” I say, getting out and walking away without looking back. Her door creaks open, and her footsteps echo on the pavement behind me. I can feel her standing at the end of the walk, uncertain about whether to guard me or give me space. She must decide on space, because I get to the door and through it without another word to or from her.

This time, I sail right past the living room and collapse on the guest bed fully clothed. I press my stupid face into the stupid pillow and think about how stupid life is. So. Stupid.

“Tough day at the office?” Angela says from the doorway.

I groan into the pillow. I’d never let anyone else see me at this level of wretchedness, but for some reason, Angela’s the exception that proves the rule.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Angela sits on the corner of bed not taken up by my sprawled limbs. I wish she’d stroke my hair like my mom used to, but then I chew myself out for the thought. What is up with my rampaging emotions lately?

“She thinks of me as a helpless child who needs protecting. Nothing more.”

“She actually said that?” Angela says.

I shrug, because I don’t want to admit that she pretty much did. “This is why I wanted to get rid of these stupid feelings. This right here. How’m I supposed to even look at her tomorrow?”

Angela doesn’t stroke my hair, but she does lay a hand gently on my back. She stays silent. Because what is there to say? I appreciate that she doesn’t try to cajole me or cheer me up or offer me useless platitudes. It is what it is.

Finally, she says, “Can I get you some coffee?”

“With chocolate? And marshmallows?”

“Sure,” she says, and leaves.

• • •

To: Julep Dupree

From: Duke Salinger

Subject: Busy?

Hi, Julep.

Could you come up to my office just before you leave today? I’d like to discuss something with you.

Duke

“We’re all going out to Freddie’s for happy hour. Want to come?” Sally asks as I close the email.

“Can’t today,” I say. “I have to go up and see Duke. Next time?”

“All right,” she says, and grabs her purse. The others, even Aadila, gather up their stuff and head for the entrance.

“You could meet us after,” Aadila says. She’s eyeing me as if she suspects I’m lying.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say. I can’t, of course, because of my curfew, but I’m not telling her that.

She leaves and I turn back to my computer feeling sorry for myself. Not about missing happy hour, but about pretty much everything else. Dani was awkward and distant this morning, which is her go-to whenever she doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. It was actually kind of comforting, because as long as she doesn’t know what I’m thinking, then I don’t have to be embarrassed about it.