He wanted to meet in neutral territory and was no longer taking no for an answer. I finally gave in but picked a place I was familiar with for our meeting—the 676 Bar and Grill in the Omni Hotel downtown.
I knew there was something not right almost immediately.
There was something about the way he walked into the bar that bothered me right away. Feds are usually easy to spot with the way they walk in like they own everything, and that was the sort of stride he had when he walked into the visiting room at the prison, but this time it was different. I couldn’t quite give it a name, but it was somehow lighter—more confident. Like he knew he had a pair of aces in the hole and everyone else was holding shit.
“Tell me what you got,” Trent said as soon as he sat down at the bar.
“Let’s get some privacy first.”
I glanced over to Michele with one “L,” the bartender at 676, and got her attention. She refilled my scotch, got Trent the same, and I told her we were moving to the seats by the window. We made our way over to the grouping of chairs and couches that overlooked Michigan Avenue and sat down.
“Well, asshole? What do you have?”
“You’re quite the charmer,” I said with a chuckle. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”
“Shut up and tell me what you know. You’ve given me nothing but shit for two weeks. If you give me something worthwhile, maybe I’ll tell you what I’ve heard.”
I stared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t appear to be bluffing. I wasn’t sure what kind of information he had, but it must be noteworthy enough to taunt me with it. Bringing it up so soon, though—that also meant he wanted me to hear whatever it was.
That was not good news.
If he had something he wanted to tell me so badly, it would most assuredly be something I wouldn’t like hearing. It also meant I needed to hear it, so I made sure Trent had something he would consider valuable.
“I have something you’re going to like,” I told Trent. I sipped my scotch before setting it on the table in front of me and leaning forward. “Greco’s got a woman working for him—a Miss Jenna Ranger. She’s the bitch that collects the goods for one of his businesses. She’s high up in the organization and thinks she’s invulnerable.”
“Yeah,” Trent said as he narrowed his eyes at me, “I know who she is. What about her?”
“Well, Greco’s not happy with her at the moment. It seems the last shipment of people-cargo wasn’t what it was supposed to be. His idea of punishment is that he’s going to go along for the ride personally when she picks up the next batch.”
“You mean he’s going to be there himself when she picks up a bunch of kidnapped kids, illegally smuggled into the country?”
“You got it.”
I could see actual drool as it formed at the corner of his mouth.
“When? Where?”
“The when is around the middle of October,” I said. “They haven’t decided on a where yet.”
“That’s still a ways off. When are you going to have the details?”
“Probably shortly after I bang the bitch,” I replied. I didn’t really intend to fuck Jenna, but I also knew Trent expected that kind of shit from me, and it might throw him off Lia a bit.
He smirked.
“You are a low-life little shit, aren’t you?” he said. “Every once in a while, I think maybe there’s something redeemable in there, but there isn’t. You’re just a fucked up, murdering, shell-shocked, piece-of-shit bastard.”
I’d been called worse.
“The shipment is coming from the Caribbean, probably Haiti or the Dominican Republic. I think they’re still in the process of acquiring the cargo.”
“Sick fuckers.”
I happened to agree with Trent on that one. I might not have had a whole lot of scruples, but that was one of them. He finished his drink and started to stand up without commenting any further.
“You had something to tell me?” I reminded him.
Trent’s eyes glittered as his mouth turned up.
“I do,” he acknowledged. “It’s pretty good and ripe, too.”
“So spill it.”
“Moretti knows you’re working for Greco,” Trent said with a sadistic little smile. “He’s on to you, seriously pissed off, and has decided to teach you a lesson by putting out a contract on your lady friend, if you even care.”
There was no lie in his voice or posture—none at all. What he was saying was completely true, and now Lia was officially caught up in the shit-storm that had been brewing since Trent and Johnson first visited me in jail.
“It’s an open contract,” he said. “First one to her gets the cash.”
“How much?” I asked.
“You thinking of taking the job?” Trent said as he laughed. “Kill her while you fuck her, maybe? That would make it an easy hit.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growled.
He laughed again.
“So she does mean something to you? You got a funny way of showing it.”
“Answer the fucking question. How much is the contract worth?”
“Fifteen,” he told me. “Moretti must think she’s going to be an easy one to get.”
I wasn’t sure if I was more insulted that my girl’s price was so low or more thrilled that it wasn’t the kind of price that would attract hunters from out of town. Ultimately, I was glad there wouldn’t be too many others looking for her. I would probably be able to come up with the complete list of Chicago-based contract killers within a couple hours. I knew most of them already. We might not have afternoon tea together, but we were still well aware of each other’s activities.
I wondered if my reputation alone would keep some of them away but decided it would actually work against me. There were definitely those who would consider a feather like that in their hats to be a drop on me even if Lia was a relatively easy target on her own.
I needed to get back to her.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I stood, downed my scotch, and began to move away.
“You make sure you get me the where long before the time comes. You got that, Arden?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I was extra cautious on the way home. I took a much longer route and watched my back constantly. At one point on the L, I knew there was someone in dark clothing who had stepped on just as I had on the last two stops, and I tried to get a glimpse of him in the car. I couldn’t find anyone and considered that it might be my paranoia acting up again, but Lia wasn’t worth the risk.
I jumped out at the next stop and hung around outside the train for a while. I saw the same guy again—long dark jacket that was too heavy for the season and a hoodie pulled up over his head. I stepped onto the next train, watched him carefully as he did the same, and then I jumped off before the train started to move.
He was waiting for it and stepped off as well.
Well, that confirms that.
I wasn’t going to fuck around with him, either—not when Lia was my biggest concern. I walked out of the station and toward the alley nearby. I could hear the footsteps behind me—at this point he had to know I was on to him—and they were getting closer. I moved quickly over the puddles and junk on the blacktop, around a group of dumpsters, and into a doorway leading to the back entrance of an apartment building. I went up a half flight of stairs, checked that there was no one on the stairwell, turned, and waited.