Bargaining. Killian had been expecting it and yet it sent a spike through his head, making his temple pang in pain.
“What could you possibly have that would make me eat thirty percent of a ten million dollar profit?” he demanded.
The leer that twisted Arlo’s rat face made his knuckles itch with the desire to clock the other man in the kisser.
“Juliette.”
That name meant nothing to him, nor did it elicit even an ounce of interest. If anything, it only irked him all the further.
“The girl?” he said, not bothering to even glance at the door across the room. “Why would I want her?”
“Consider her a peace offering,” Arlo cajoled smoothly. “And hopefully, the beginnings of a business partnership.”
Now he really did want to hit the little punk.
“I don’t dabble in stolen women.”
Something sharp and angry flashed behind Arlo’s brown eyes that Killian recognized as outrage, but it was quickly smothered down.
“I have a shipment coming in in a week that will make us both very happy men.”
“If I let you use my docks,” Killian finished, having already had this song and dance with Arlo’s father only the night before. “I already told your father, I’m no longer in that business.”
Something about that statement seemed to amuse the other man. He shoved away from the table with a low chuckle and pivoted ever so slightly on the heel of his boots to face Killian head on.
“You say you’re not in the business and yet … here you are.”
The implication sent a white hot surge of fury rippling through Killian.
“I may not be in the business, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to let filth dirty up my streets. The north is still mine to protect.”
Arlo gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I can respect that.” His gaze roamed over to Killian’s men before dropping down to the purse laying forgotten on the ground. “Then take the girl as a token of my apologies for this misunderstanding.”
Killian tried not to pinch the bridge of his nose in impatience. He tried. Instead, his hand went up to grind four fingers into his throbbing temple.
“Why on earth would I take a girl that looks barely old enough to tie her own shoelaces over seven million dollars?” He sighed and fixed Arlo with cool, dark eyes. “I am losing my patience, Cruz.”
A palm was lifted in some absurd display of peace. “Like I said, a peace offering. Nothing more. I will get you the money, but I can only give you forty now and thirty in a week when my other shipment comes in. The girl is … a gift.”
“Is this a game to you?” Killian growled through his teeth. “Do you think I’m here as a joke?” He drew back. “Perhaps you need an incentive.”
Pivoting on his heels, he started towards the exit. His heels cracked noisily against the concrete. His men watched as he approached, but none were looking at him; he didn’t pay them to ogle him, but to watch his surroundings.
“Wait!” Arlo called at his back. “I will have the money sent directly to your account in the morning.”
Killian stopped. He slowly rounded on his heels. “I said now. Not in a day. Not in an hour or in five minutes. Now.”
A muscle wrenched in Arlo’s jaw that had his nostrils flaring, but he was smart enough to keep it out of his tone when he spoke.
“David.”
One of the men from his crew hurriedly dug out his phone. Killian glanced back at his own man and gave a subtle nod. Max pulled away from the group and went to where David stood. The two exchanged account information while Killian waited. He checked his watch. He was already ten minutes behind.
“Pierre, the girl,” Arlo ordered.
It was on the tip of Killian’s tongue to tell Pierre not to bother. He didn’t want the girl. But the Goliath had already thrown open the door with a shriek of rusted hinges. The steel sheet swung inward to what appeared to be a bedroom of sorts. Killian could just see the girl standing in the middle of the room, small and terrified. Her thin arms were wrapped around her chest, creasing the white material of her blouse. She backed away when Pierre charged into the room with her. Even from a distance, he heard her cry out when a meaty fist closed around her upper arm and wrenched her forward. Her heels scraped on stone as she was dragged before the assembly. She was fighting him, but it was doing no good; he was three times her size.
“Juliette.” Arlo took over when Goliath relinquished his grip. He hauled her to him and forcibly twisted her around so she was facing Killian. Enormous brown eyes shot up to his, a stark contrast to the pallor of her face. “This is the Scarlet Wolf. He’s going to take you home tonight.”
The Scarlet Wolf. Christ sakes. Who the hell introduced another person as The Scarlet Wolf? It was pathetic and he would have face palmed if he could do so without looking as moronic as Arlo. Besides, that was the title he had earned. It was the name everyone in the city knew him as, at least, those on the flipside of the law. People like Arlo and Juan. People who needed to be reminded of who he was and what he was capable of. It would forever be a reminder of a past he could never forget.
Across from him, what little color had resided in the girl face bleached to nothing so all that stood out was her eyes, wide and glossy with terror. They stared at Killian as though he were the devil reincarnated. She stood rigid against Arlo, her slight frame trembling hard enough to make Killian wince.
“This is Juliette,” Arlo went on. “Juliette here owes me a favor and I would consider it paid in full if she were to help you relax.”
Juliette seemed to still before his eyes. Killian could see something churning behind her eyes, a desperate sort of realization that parted her lips in a gasp.
Behind her, Arlo smirked. “Do we have a deal?”
She was thrust forward before she could even respond. Killian watched it happen as though in slow motion. He saw her stagger as her feet caught over each other. Her hands flung out to brace her fall. His own flew out without a shred of hesitation. He caught her—all of her—and hauled her into his chest. Her small frame tucked snuggly against his chest. His arms wound seamlessly around the curve of her narrow waist. Palms flattened against a slim slope of her back as the subtle scent of wildflowers rushed over him on impact. Eyes the rich gold of caramel shot up to his face, half hidden behind a riot of dirty blonde curls. Soft, pink lips parted, revealing just the hint of a slight overbite that seemed to be the only imperfection on an otherwise beautiful face. It was the sort of face that made smart men stupid and rich men poor. Killian wasn’t immune, but he wasn’t a fool either.
He released her quickly and stepped back.
“Keep her,” he muttered, forcing himself to look away.
“Please.”
The whisper was so low, he momentarily wondered if he’d imagined it. His gaze flicked to the girl with her big, pleading eyes and pitiful plea. Blood welled where her teeth cut a gash in her bottom lip. But it was the tear clinging to her thick lashes that did him in. Something about the sight of it punched him low in the gut. It reminded him of another woman, one that had meant the world to him, one he had lost because he’d been powerless to save her.
“Get your things,” Killian told her before his common sense could kick in.
Her throat muscles worked in a deep swallow. Relief shimmered in her eyes before she lowered them and hurried to the purse a few feet away. Her hand trembled as it was twisted around the worn strap. The spilled envelope of cash was left where it lay scattered in the dirt.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Arlo called after him when Killian started to turn away.
The smug arrogance in the single comment hackled along Killian’s spine with slimy fingers. He glanced back at the boy standing in all his own self-righteous glory and almost scoffed. Arlo Cruz would be nowhere without his father’s empire behind him. No doubt he would be just another statistic on the streets, a shit ass kid gunned down for robbing a liquor store. He had no class. He had no respect. The world had been handed to him on a gold platter and he relished in his own self-worth. Men like that seldom lasted very long in their line of work.