Sparrow - L.J. Shen Page 0,65

name clean.

Shit had to be handled, and I was the one handling it. I waited wordlessly for him to speak first. It was a good habit if you wanted people to cut to the chase.

“Brennan,” he barked, “I need you to take care of a package for me.”

“This’ll have to wait until Friday,” I said calmly. “I’ll be back in Boston then.”

“It can’t wait until Friday.”

“I’m on my honeymoon, George.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “And let me take a wild guess, it’s not exactly a Motel 6 in the middle of fuck-knows-where, and your wife ain’t bargain shopping at T.J. Maxx, right? Yeah. That’s because people like me pay people like you a good buck to work for us. It’s not a nine-to-five job, Brennan. Get your ass back here. Now.”

I answered with silence, knowing it would drive him mad. He should thank me. If I told him what I was really thinking, the words would cut so deep he’d be the first person in the world to be seriously injured by a telephone call.

“Brennan? Brennan! God-fucking-dammit…” He took a deep breath. “Look, okay, I get it. It’s your honeymoon. But it’s also an emergency. My package needs to be delivered somewhere discreet ASAP. I can’t have it sitting around in the house any more. This could sway my voters and stain my image.”

Another beat of silence on my end. If you wanted to win a negotiation, rule number one was to talk less. Show minimal interest. Let the other person sweat it.

I heard Van Horn hit something hard and curse in pain. Yup, definitely sweating it.

“Dammit. How much?”

“Double the amount you’re paying me now.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“I wish I were.” I fumbled for a toothpick and stuck one in my mouth. “But I’m afraid I have a terrible sense of humor.”

“Whatever. Fine. And you’ll cut your honeymoon short?”

It wasn’t like Sparrow and I were enjoying the sun, alcohol and the deluxe king-size bed the hotel had to offer. And I fucking hated Miami anyway. Too lively for my taste.

“I’ll be on my way as soon as I can. I have to take care of one minor matter first.”

I heard him lighting up one of his rancid cigars. “Some lucky wife, you got yourself.”

“Leave my wife out of this. I don’t want you mentioning her or even thinking about her. As far as you’re concerned, she doesn’t exist.”

“Ah, so he has a soft spot after all.” Van Horn said.

I almost gave a mocking laugh, but I tightened my jaw, clamping hard on the toothpick between my teeth. “I’ll have my business associate Brock Greystone send you the new payment terms by tomorrow morning.”

Click, and the line went dead, and so did any good thought I had about George Van Horn.

RED WASN’T THERE when I got back to the hotel suite. Not that it surprised me. She was more independent than I pegged her to be. She was also a pain in the ass, and from what I’d noticed, hadn’t touched my credit card even once. Consequently, Red was broke as hell. I had no idea how she managed to walk around without spending a penny, but she did it and hadn’t complained about it even once.

She was stirring some very fucking strange shit in me—shit I wasn’t prepared to deal with. Not when I still had to find the missing person on my list, my impending revenge hovering over our lives like a black cloud of suffocating smoke. I took the crumpled note out of my pocket again just to remind myself I had a goal in life, something bigger. Something that didn’t involve money or ass.

1 – Billy Crupti

2 – Father McGregor

3 – The asshole who hired Billy?

I kicked off my shoes and walked into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and taking off my clothes. The heat and humidity killed me. Summer was my idea of hell. I was dark, cold person who enjoyed dark, cold weather. That’s why Boston was my kingdom, my home. The unseasonable cold in the city this June suited me perfectly.

But the weather was the least of my worries after meeting with Paddy.

The important thing was that tomorrow morning Paddy’s lawyer showed up with a check for Sparrow. Then I was going to get the fuck away from this place and back home to deal with the George Van Horn problem. Sparrow would enjoy a fat payment for her suffering all those years ago, and maybe she’d feel a little less