Page 36 of Carnal Wagers

As we both chuckled, I twisted up my wet hair into a cushion and laid my head back against a tree trunk, ignoring the constant traffic. The bark scratched against my skull in the unlikeliest of massages. Under the mix of greenery against a background of reddish-brown buildings with cement-gray accents, I relaxed. There was something about Boston’s understated simplicity, combined with fine lines, stonework, and details against the backdrop of nature, that just pulled me in. Every time I came for business or to visit Maeve, I fell a little more in love with this city.

“Okay, my turn.” Maeve hummed, seemingly mulling it over. Muffled, brassy clanging of metal on metal clamored from her end. “If, and it’s a big if, you win, that trip we’ve been talking about to the Dominican Republic will be my treat.”

“Oh, you are on, my friend.”

“And…here’s the condition. You’re staying with me. You and Erel.”

“Not sure I want to hear you two—” A high-pitched whine squealed in the background, and I pulled the phone away from my ear.

“Oh, shut it. You can’t hear anything from the first floor, and you’ll need a place to stay. So say, ‘Thank you, Maeve. You’re the best friend in the entire world, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.’”

“Merci, ma belle.” Thank you, hon. “You’ll be my person until my hair’s gray and I’ve got more wrinkles than a shar-pei.”

“Damn right I will.”

Another muffled wail keened across the line.

“Where are you?” I asked. “Whatever that is sounds awful.”

“I know.” She groaned. “The beauty of my job. We’ve got a new employee who just can’t handle the workload, and they won’t stop griping. I swear it’s what I hate most about being a business owner. All the complaints. That and the cleanup after all the fuckups.”

“If only you hadn’t taken over a construction company against your mother’s wishes, and your best friend wasn’t constantly pestering you to come work for her instead,” I teased.

“And smell like roses instead of sweat every day? Ugh, why would I want that?” she quipped. “In all seriousness, I’ve got to go deal with this. Call me when you’re on your way back here from Cali. I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

As we hung up, a leaf tinged with red at its center tumbled down and landed over my heart like an omen. I swiped it away.

Chapter 10

The Colombians were late. Five minutes or less, I hated but accepted. They were never on time. Ten minutes crossed the line into disrespect. But a full-on thirty minutes late, now that was the equivalent of spitting in my face. I knew it, and they knew it.

When three of them finally swaggered into the tenement apartment chosen for this quarter’s drop off, I didn’t push off the painted-over, patterned wall I rested my weight against. I didn’t greet them. I didn’t say a word. I just stared the fuckers down, one foot kicked up on the leftovers of a TV stand from the nineties.

Then the bastards tossed a body at our feet. That was strike two, three, and four in one go.

It landed with a thunk, face down, the back of his skull cratered to a bloody pulp. The tattoo below his ear—a three-leaf clover with a crowned skull—proved he was one of us. Maybe in his late teens, from his gangly frame. Brody went to crouch, hand extended for the dead man’s shoulder, but I lugged him back up before his surge of concern caught the Colombians’ attention.

One of the trio pimp-rolled forward, jeans hanging off his skinny hips, jacket swallowing his frame. My eyes rolled to the water-stained ceiling. I missed the days when the cartel sent experienced collectors our way instead of showboating youngsters. This bullshit drained me dry.

“Qué le pasa, carechimba?” The wannabe-gangster flaunted his gun at the body. “You don’t like it when it’s your boy on the floor? That’s for my brother, pichurria. You fucked his leg, man. I should fuck you up. You don’t mess with Sosa. We eat men like you for merienda.”

Arthur and Paulie fanned out around me and crossed their arms, a clear sign they didn’t consider them a threat. I twirled my karambit knife on my finger and took in every twitch and shift of every man in the room.

I didn’t know the dead kid, but from the way Brody tapped his gun against his thigh with one hand and rubbed his other hand up and down his leg, my brother did. Death only bothered Brody when he knew and liked a person, and his actions itched of a craving for retribution. He probably hired the lad as one of his informers.

When the handle of my knife slowed its rotation and sloped into the crook of my palm, I tugged the blade open.

A ray of light gleamed off the metal in invitation, and I stood. The boy band’s leader flinched, sending a lick of tingles through my veins.

“Another of Sosa’s nephews, I presume.”

“What’s it to you?” he snarled.

The warped floorboards creaked under my steps, each one measured and slow. He retreated a little, but I kept on coming.

I wanted him to feel the threat and realize how badly he cocked up. And if he shot me…well, the risk was where the thrill came into play.

“Boss’s just wondering how many other ugly fuckers like yourself he’ll have to set straight before you get the message,” Paulie said.