Page 78 of When Sinners Hate
The last girl leaves the floor in front of me, and I drain my cup. “He called her, asking why he hadn’t had his money yet and if she hadn’t satisfied her side of the bargain. There was no bargain. She didn’t even know it was coming until she was in the middle of it. And before you ask, it was all on loudspeaker. I heard it first-hand.” I reach into my jacket, pulling out my pack of cigarettes and lighting one. “Still doesn’t mean I have the right to kill the only person she has left. No matter how much I want him dead.”
Standing, I make my way over to Carmen and hand her the file with the girl’s names and where they’ll be going to. “Get these to Knox. He’ll organise with Dante as usual.”
She nods and walks off into the darkness, less mouthy than I think I’ve ever seen her be, and so I go collect my jacket. I’ve got dinner to get to, and hopefully, an on-time wife. Frankly, after an afternoon of watching mediocre pussy, and my head still trying to fathom what to do about an Ortega dick who needs putting down, I’m ready for some peace and a woman worthy of thought. “What are you doing tonight?” I ask, as Dante stands.
“Why?”
“Just asking a question.”
“Heading to Austin.”
“Why?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
I laugh lightly and start moving for the parking lot. “See? You’re better with no booze. I don’t need to hear about your little Wren and her apparent dark side. Although, give my regards to Rick while you’re there.”
“The fuck?”
“There’s only one reason you go to Austin. His place is it. I thought you’d have worked out by now that you can’t hide shit from me. What’s Wren up to at the moment?” Because Lexi needs some allies round here, and they could get on if they tried.
“Wedding bullshit. She’s running three from the home office now. Gone solo and set up her own thing. Place looks like a goddamn florist. Might need to move just so I can get past them into the gym at some point.”
Move.
We say our goodbyes and I watch his car drive out in front of mine, then turn in the opposite direction for the place we’re eating at. Only takes fifteen minutes to get there, and before I know it I’m pulling in beside my own Challenger parked up in the back. She’s leaning on the side of it, swinging the key ring around her finger and looking damn pleased with herself.
I look through the window at those legs wearing a short as fuck skirt, and smile. They’re peeking out behind a long, blue, lightweight coat, showing off her deeply tanned skin. Nothing mediocre about any of that. That’s fine and perfected, holding that line she manages so well. Not trashy. Not slutty either. Just sharp and precise, as if she knows the exact level of sexy I need to get turned on.
“You know,” I muse, as I get out and slam the door. “You could get arrested looking like that.”
She frowns. “Why?”
“Too damn beautiful.”
Her face brightens. “Well thank you, but I doubt it. I’m a Cortez now. I don’t think we get arrested for much at all. Apart from murder. When it’s done passionately at least. Which you know all about.”
I crouch down, gently easing the fine strap back into the buckle on her shoe. “True enough.”
“We still haven’t talked about that.”
My fingers drag up the length of her leg, and I cage her on the side of the car and lean in to get a smell of her perfume. “No. Not going to tonight either.” My mouth comes down to hers,mind thinking of anything but food. “You look good enough to eat, darlin’.”
“Maybe so, but you smell like a cheap brothel, and I think I might be overdressed considering this place.” She looks back at the barn come building. “What is it?”
I back off. “It’s a secret for people who can afford it. We can.”
A smile beams on her face, and she links her arm through mine and lets me lead the way through to the restaurant. Not that any of it looks like a restaurant. We need to go down a few floors for that. I open a heavy metal door at the back with a code, and usher her down the steps until we step out onto a decked area. The spread of San Antonio lies in wait for us, ten miles of it laid out like a light show starting to come to life.
“Well, that’s impressive.”
“Hmm.” I keep us moving until we arrive at a reception area and we’re led to a small table set up on the corner of the deck. White linen. Cut crystal glasses. “The chef moves the location every three months. This is the first time he’s been in San Antonio. I went to his first place a few years back in Havana.”
“I love Havana,” she says, taking a seat.
“Let me guess, the laughter?”
She watches as a waitress approaches, offering us both Champagne. “Yes, I suppose so. But it’s gritty too. I always feel like I can get lost there.”