Pawn (The Pawn Duet #2) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,59

chest. “What other name did he go by?” This is the other reason I came here today. Get info that could destroy Darius. I flex my fingers which are shaking in anticipation.

Carmen smiles and leans back in her chair. “That information will cost you an additional ten percent on the first shipment.”

I smile back and mirror her position. “Done.”

“Ha! Again, you impress me,” she says. “Let me tell you all about this person you know as Darius…”

By the time I leave the hotel, I’m carrying with me a proverbial tank-full of informational fuel. Enough to set fire to Darius and burn down The Reich.

I find a payphone outside of the hotel and dial zero. “I’d like to place a collect call to Pike’s Pawn in Logan’s Beach.”

The phone rings, and after a moment, there’s an answer. “Pike’s Pawn, this is Thorne. Yes, I’ll accept the call.” There’s a pause as the line connects. “Mickey, is that you?”

“It’s me. Is Pike there?” I turn to face the street with my back against the phone.

“Mickey! Hey, I was just thinking about you. Mindy is here with me, too.” She pauses and laughs. “She says hi. But no, Pike’s not here. He just stepped out. What’s up?’

“Can you give him a message for me?” I ask, looking around to make sure that no one is watching me or listening.

“Yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

I take a deep breath. “Tell him that I have what we need. The plan is a go.”

14

Pike

Football players get themselves psyched up before a game by yelling in one another’s faces or by imagining their competition drowning their dog. I psyche myself up with pain. My own pain. And for me, there’s no better pain than a new tattoo. I remove the plastic wrap from my forearm and gaze down at the fresh ink of Mickey’s name scrawled in elaborate script from the inside of my elbow to my wrist. A reminder of who I’m fighting for and what’s at stake tonight.

The real thrill comes from not just being able to see this through, but knowing that after tonight, Mickey is coming home.

Checking the clock, I realize I only have a few hours. I check the security cameras before heading back up to my apartment to shower and make a few calls to make sure the final arrangements are in place. The bell rings above the door.

Turning around, I spot Jo Jo without her usual hat. Her long blonde hair is dirty and tangled. Her clothes are torn. She’s only wearing one shoe. There’s a fresh bruise forming on her cheek and another along her jaw.

“What the fuck happened?” I ask, rushing over to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She shrugs, trying to act tough, but her lip is quivering. Blood is caked at the corner of her mouth. “Betty’s boyfriend roughed me up. Said I wasn’t pulling my weight around the house.” She looks up to me with sad, hope-filled eyes. “Pike, do you think I can stay here for a little while? Just until he cools down.”

“No. You’re not staying for a little while. You’re staying. Period. You ain’t going back there. Not to Betty’s and not back into the fucking system. Not now. Not ever,” I assure her as rage boils in my veins. “Thorne!” I bark.

Jo Jo jumps back, then smiles her apology at me when I’m the one who should be apologizing to her for scaring her.

Thorne runs in from the back room. “What’s up, boss?” She spots Jo Jo and sets down her clipboard on the new glass case that’s just arrived to replace the one I shattered.

“Bring Jo Jo upstairs. Give her some food, and set her up with the PlayStation,” I order.

We exchange knowing glances. “Of course,” she says with a smile hiding her obvious concern. “Where are you going?”

My jaw tightens. “To take care of some shit I should’ve taken care of a long fucking time ago.”

“Just make sure you’re back in time.” She looks up at the clock above the counter.

I have three hours before Darius’s birthday celebration is underway. Plenty of time to remind these fuckers that they messed with the wrong fucking kid.

Thorne ushers Jo Jo from the room. Before they hit the stairs, Jo Jo looks back at me with a sad smile. “Thanks, Pike.”

“You’ll never have to go back there,” I repeat, needing her to know that my promise is a real one and not one spoken out of rage.

I race to Jo Jo’s foster parents’ house and