I looked Reaper square in the eyes. “I was going to do what I had to do. This isn’t about me. This is about your mom, and Carl’s family, and a bunch of little kids I’ve never even met, and for Train. I know what Eddie can do. I’ve seen it. What would you do if you were in my place?”
He looked around hesitantly. “I don’t know.”
I turned back to Jill. “But I’m not selling anybody to Dead Six.”
Jill smiled. “So, you do have a heart.”
It was really tense in that apartment right then. “Look, sorry about . . .” I waved my throbbing hand at the new holes in the wall. “Whatever. Just leave me alone. I’ll . . . we’ll think of something in the morning.” I went to my room and closed the door, utterly defeated.
She didn’t bother to knock.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the folder of family photos in the dim light, absently spinning that blood-stained .44 Magnum cartridge between my fingers, and I looked up to see Jill’s silhouette in the doorway, hands on her hips. “Carl wanted me to tell you that he and Reaper went to pick up the spare car.” Closing the folder, I set it aside. “What’s that?” she asked.
Sighing, I responded. “This? This is a forty-four Magnum round. It came from the man that shot me today. And these,” I said, gesturing at the photos, “are a bunch of innocent people who are going to be hurt because of what I am.”
She waited. “Well . . . what are you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know anymore.”
“I do,” Jill said. She came inside and softly closed the door behind her. There was a sudden energy in the room. “I know exactly what you are.”
I recognized the look that she was giving me. I’d seduced more women than I could count, but it wasn’t like they knew me. I couldn’t do this. Not with her. This wasn’t right. I stood. “Listen, I—”
“You’re a thief, and a liar, and an all-around jerk,” she said with this mischievous little smile. “You’re this just horrendous asshole that takes advantage of everybody around him, and uses people whenever it’s convenient. And you’re so short. I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking.”
That was unexpected. “Me, either.”
“But . . .” Jill was closer now. She stopped, so close that I could just barely feel the soft curves of her body against me. It was electric. It had been a long time. “You’re also the man that saved my life.”
Her fingers were soft on my cheek. Then I was pulling her tight. Against all reason, I kissed her. She responded, quickly, aggressively. She felt so very good. “You don’t have to do this,” I said, and I meant it.
She whispered in my ear. “I know.”
Wide awake, I stared at the dark ceiling, listening to the night sounds of Zubara coming from the open window and Jill’s rhythmic breathing next to me. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and she had fallen asleep with one hand caressing the mottled scars on my chest.
Man, I needed that.
I moved the hair from her face, and she shifted slightly tighter against me in response.
What the hell was I doing? Men like me weren’t allowed to have relationships. It wasn’t that I wasn’t attracted to her. . . . Are you kidding? She was beautiful and had an unbelievable body. No problem there. I’m only human. There was nothing I’d rather do, but I actually . . . hell. I don’t know. It wasn’t like I was used to feelings.
Jill was different than the others.
But I couldn’t afford affection. Affection was weakness. I’d only ever had one serious relationship, and that had ended really badly. In the terrible world I inhabited, sex was business and love was for suckers. Loyalty was just something that could be used against you by anybody more ambitious than you were, my current predicament being a perfect example.
On the one hand, I felt like the biggest jerk in the world, like I was somehow taking advantage of this poor scared girl who had looked to me for protection, though it wasn’t exactly like I had initiated this. On the other hand, I was thinking about how stupid I was. The cold, calculating part of my brain was warning me that Jill was probably just doing this to cement her chances of me not selling her out, that somehow she was better at emotional manipulation than I was. Maybe the con was getting conned.
Then again, I was at least a decade older than her, probably more. Since I spent my days murdering scumbags, it seemed odd that I would have some sort of moral hang up about that, but I did feel like a dirty old man. On a strictly practical note, it made me really glad that at forty I had the physical conditioning of an Olympic athlete. Holy crap, the girl is energetic. Or maybe I’m just getting old.
So I lay there, beating myself up, yet somehow feeling strangely happy. It was kind of weird.
Jill stirred. “You awake?” she asked softly.
“Just thinking is all.”
I could see the whiteness of her smile in the dark. “Don’t worry. We will find them.” That hadn’t been what I was thinking about at all. In fact, this was the first time in weeks that every one of my thoughts hadn’t been driven by revenge. And for some reason, I liked how she said we would find them.
“You know, Jill, you’re really pretty when you’re homicidal.”
She giggled. “You think too much. Wanna go again?”
Maybe life doesn’t have to totally suck.
Chapter 15:
Pancakes
LORENZO
May 4
For some reason, despite massive setbacks, Dead Six boning me at every turn, being half a million dollars poorer, getting shot the day before, and still unable to get Adar’s box, I felt better today than I had in quite a while. I had gone out onto the balcony and was staring at the sun just beginning to light the morning fog. Carl joined me a few minutes later, leaned on the balcony, and regarded me suspiciously. As usual, we were the first up. “You kids get that out of the way finally? Been sniffing around each other like horny teenagers since she got here.”
The call to prayer began to resonate across the city. “Why, Carl, my good man. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He grunted. “Sure. So, what now, genius?”
I had been thinking about that. “You’ve seen the e-mails to Al Falah. The big meeting is on for June eighteenth. So we’ve got just over a month to get ready for the Phase Three.”
“So we go in, but without Adar’s box, we just die? Good plan.”
“I might be able to pick it.”
Carl nodded. “It’s like a thousand years old and has something like two hundred tumblers, and if Reaper’s numbers are right, you’ve got ten minutes maybe to get through before a couple hundred pissed off Saudis start shooting at you.”
We had been through all this before, but it never hurt to go over the options again. “Explosives.”
Carl knew his bombs better than I did. “That much reinforced material.” He held up a stubby finger. “First, too loud. Pissed Saudis, remember?” Then another. “Second, you won’t be able to smuggle enough in to make a shaped charge that can punch through.”
“What if I were to find explosives inside the palace?”