Player - A Deadliest Lies Novel - Michele Mannon Page 0,9
the right fella to approach about this?”
“We have a mutual friend.”
“Nah.” He pins me with hard eyes like he’s trying to intimidate me. “I don’t have friends.”
I pat his erection. “Sure you do.” I gift him with a smile, which he doesn’t return. Fine. In my line of work, you learn quickly what information to offer and what information to omit. I don’t mind offering up the gang leader’s name if it’ll help convince him to trust me.
“El Chulo.” I arch an eyebrow.
“Right.” Do I sense the slightest bit of relief? Is he not upset I know he’s CIA? “How much did you pay him?”
“You don’t deny knowing him?”
“Answer my question and maybe I’ll confirm it.”
“Twenty-thousand dollars.”
He whistles. The sound’s sweet music to my ears because the awkward moment between us seems to have passed. “Ten grand would have done it.”
“If you help me, it’ll be worth every penny.”
“Can’t.”
I grind my teeth together.
“My boss has trust issues. The Bastard doesn’t like information being leaked. He’ll kill you and me both.”
“You shouldn’t joke like that. I worked in places where people were as expendable as a politician’s latest whim.”
“Who says I’m joking.”
I frown.
He laughs, and this time the sound of it grates on my nerves. I feel like I’m the brunt of a joke, the punch line delivered in a language I can’t speak.
“You really hell-bent on redeeming yourself because of some tool named George?”
I drop my hand, breaking contact as a flash of pain washes over me. How do I make him understand? Those smug executives telling me they have no interest in covering a hard, albeit realistic, look at Aleppo falling. Like little Christiana’s life was worthless and the deaths of innocent people were unworthy of attention?
“Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong puts you at risk, you know that?”
“Let’s say I’m driven to do a good piece of work and leave it at that.”
He rubs his beard and gives me an undecipherable look. Like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit into the picture. Like he’s as confused by me as I am by him.
“Feck’s sake,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You got me. I’ll do you a good turn. Just remember I did so out of kindness.”
I exhale sharply. “Thank you. This means a lot.”
“There’s an older woman in Acapulco who sells fresh tortillas from a small yellow stand by the beach. It’s two blocks away from the warehouse.”
“Yes. I’ve seen her.”
“Next time you’re in Acapulco, ask her for the special of the day.”
“The special of the day. Okay. That’s code for something else, I suppose?”
“Correct.”
My grin slips, though, as, in one fluid move, he pushes off me and onto his feet. I roll up to sit. “Where are you going?”
“To fetch a Johnny.”
I roll my eyes. “Translation, please,” I call after his retreating back.
“Condom.”
Okay, then. This thing is happening.
I busy myself plumping the pillows. When he doesn’t come back, I take inventory of my damaged blouse. When he still hasn’t returned, I retrieve my pistol then crawl over to my purse and dig inside, ignoring the safety pins I always carry in case of an emergency to retrieve the condom I have tucked inside.
I blow on it as if to remove the dust.
When he finally returns, I hold it up for him to see.
“Best save that for the wee fellas.” He drops a box of Magnum Premiums—an unopened box—on the floor beside the pillows.
I lift an eyebrow.
He narrows his eyes at me, daring me to comment on the full box and his apparent dry spell. Or maybe he’s such a stud, he goes through boxes at a time?
I lick my lips like a cat tempted by a treat. A big treat.
“Tell me no if you don’t want this to happen.”
I blink.
“Last chance to make a run for it.”
Run? It takes great effort not to roll my eyes. What does he need, a parade lined with red flags leading to me? Looks like I need to be the aggressor. I roll my shoulders, work my blouse off my body, then grin as I feel it drop to the floor.
A spark of desire lights his eyes. “Right here,” I murmur, caressing the swell of one breast.
“There.” His face takes on the expression he had during Assassin’s Creed when I killed my first captain of an elite troop: dumbstruck.
“Shoot your thick sweet cream right here.”
His groan fills the room.
“Or do I take that big cock of yours in my throat?”