“Are you busy, Cruz?” he spat, slicing through the thickened air with an Irish lilt that she would have found dead sexy any other time. Eyes the voluminous black of absolute night pivoted against a face defined from the very definition of rugged and focused on Juliette still on all fours half under the table. They narrowed. “Is this your idea of busy?”
Nerves frayed beyond repair, Juliette fumbled for the edge of the table and forced her body up. Her knees buckled uncontrollably, sending her staggering into the wood. But she remained upright, which was a miracle in itself.
“Wolf.” Arlo set the walkie-talkie down and clapped his hands together once and kept them firmly clasped in front of him as he regarded the group. “I wasn’t expecting a visit.”
“Weren’t you?” The man took a single step deeper into the warehouse. “Bit surprising that considering this is the third time this week your men have been caught doing business on my turf.”
“A mistake,” Arlo said hurriedly. “I’m dealing with my crew and it won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” He moved closer, his strides unnaturally even and calm. “But that doesn’t change the facts. You owe us for using my streets to peddle your garbage. I’m here to collect.”
A muscle jumped in Arlo’s jaw. Juliette recognized it as well concealed rage. She expected him to lash out, to throw the first punch or, at the very least, tell the guy to get out. Instead, she was surprised by the restraint tightening the length of his jaw. It made her wonder just who the newcomer was, because anyone who scared Arlo enough to curb his temper was clearly someone not to screw with.
“Unless you’d rather I took this to your father,” the man went on. “I’m sure he’d like to know why I was forced to make this trip.”
At the mention of his father, Arlo seemed to straighten and shrink back at the same time. Juliette noticed only because they stood a mere five feet apart. Everyone else seemed to be focused on the scattered envelope of money the man idly nudged with the toe of one shiny dress shoe. He seemed unperturbed by the fact that there was hundreds of dollars just lying across the floor. Juliette showed that type of disinterest to litter on the streets.
“There’s no need to involve my father,” Arlo said, propping his ass against the ledge of the table and folding his arms. “I’m sure we can come up with a solution that suits us both.”
Stepping over the envelope, the man shrugged. “All right then.”
He drew to a stop in the strip of space separating Juliette from Arlo. That close, he was a too-close two feet from her. Close enough so that she could stretch out a hand and touch his broad back. So close that she could easily make out the fine, white lines running vertically down his suit and catch the shimmer of light playing amongst the thick strands curling over the collar of his suit. But what she noticed most was that she could no longer see Arlo and she had a feeling he couldn’t see her either. It was crazy to think it was deliberate, but she couldn’t help feeling relief at the temporary security.
“Seventy.”
Arlo’s short, hard laugh spoke of his outrage before he even spoke.
“Seventy percent? That’s more—”
“More than half,” the man cut in. “I’ve done the math.”
“That barely covers the cost of shipment, never mind—”
“Not my problem. That’s the cost of doing business in my neighborhood without my say so. Something you should have thought of, clearly. I don’t take well to guns being traded in my parks. You’re lucky I don’t ask for the full hundred.”
Juliette couldn’t help herself. Curiosity and a whole lot of stupidity had her leaning an inch to the left to peer around the man’s looming frame to where Arlo stood looking like someone had just force fed him a cluster of cockroaches. His sour expression only seemed to deepen when her movement caught his attention. The anger in his eyes sharpened even as they narrowed and she knew she’d screwed up.
“Why don’t we talk about this in private?” He bit out as he heaved away from the table and reached for her. His hand closed around her wrist and she was dragged to his side forcibly. “Pierre, take Juliette into the other room. This is no place for a woman. We’ll continue where we left off when I’m finished.”
The notion of picking up where they’d left off churned in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze flicked to the man watching her. His expression was void of everything, but a bored sort of disinterest that assured her she would get no help from him. Not that she had expected it. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop herself from silently begging him not to leave her there. But he made no move to do anything when she was hauled away from the group towards a set of doors across the room. The grimy sheet of metal lay hidden behind a thick curtain of shadow and shrieked like a lost soul when it was wrenched open. She was shoved inside and sealed in.
Chapter 3
If there was anything Killian truly hated in the world it was having his time wasted. Already he’d had to reschedule six different appointments and reorder his calendar just to make the drive east, which was more than a rat like Arlo Cruz deserved. But it was something that needed to be done. Oh, he could have easily sent his men to make the point for him, but something like selling guns in broad daylight, in a park full of children spurred the psychopath in Killian into taking action. Plus a part of him was actually hoping Arlo would refuse, giving Killian an excuse to rid the world of the arrogant little fuck once and for all. It was purely out of respect for Arlo’s father that Killian was even willing to negotiate the problem. Juan Cruz was a vicious, violent, and bloodthirsty member of the underworld, but he understood the laws. He, like everyone else in the business, respected those laws. It was how peace was kept. The younger generation like Arlo, they sometimes forgot the order of things.
“Why don’t we have a drink and—”
“Why don’t you cut the shit and hand over my money,” Killian cut in, feeling his nerves reaching their maximum bullshit quota.
Agitation bore into the place just between his shoulder blades like an unreachable itch. It was taking all his resolve not to just kill the fucker and leave. It would certainly solve a lot of problems, but ultimately, it would also create a shit storm Killian was in no mood to deal with.
“I think we can all agree that forty is a more reasonable solution,” Arlo was saying when Killian forced himself to pay attention once more. “It’s a win for everyone.”
“Forty?” Disgust and outrage laced the single snarled word, serrating the edges until they were razor sharp. “This is not a negotiation. You broke the rules. You came into my territory to peddle your crap. Now, I don’t do business on your streets, but if I did, I would have the decency to pay the toll. So, give me my money or we will have a serious problem.”
There was a subtle sound of movement from the men stationed around the room. Killian was acutely aware of the gun metal and powder smell that stung the air. He knew everyone there, including his own men, were armed. He knew it would be a bloodbath if things went sideways. But he also knew Arlo was too much of a coward to go down in a glorious blaze of gunfire, because he was the type to shoot a man in the back in a dark alley rather than face him. Killian didn’t need a gun to destroy a man.
“Maybe we could make it forty and I’ll sweeten the pot with a little something extra.”