“A good hunter only trusts a trustworthy dog. Otherwise, well…” I take a long, pensive sip of my beer. “The dog runs off when you need him, and you lose your catch to a smarter animal.”
Connor is quiet and very still for a long moment. “How do you know I don’t want Jockey off his leash?”
“Because you’re a numbers guy. And Jockey is a very, very bad investment.”
Connor leans on the bar. “OK. I’m listening.”
“His being gone would be mutually beneficial.”
“For?”
“You,” I say measuredly. “And Liam.”
“And here I thought you’d come to work for me.” Connor’s smile returns, sharp and devious. “Here’s the thing, Lexie. Jockey is…an idiot. He gets caught more often than he gets away with things. He’s got a big,bigfucking mouth. But there’s no avoiding the point—he’s got a certaincachewith your people. He’s a direct line. A go-between. A liaison.”
“A good liaison wouldn’t make your job harder.”
“Maybe in a perfect world.” Connor drinks, a long happy pull, and sighs with satisfaction. “But this isn’t a perfect world. What I have now works now, and when it doesn’t work later, that’s later’s problem. Get me?”
It’s not laziness that’s holding him back—it’s something else.Numbers.“What if without Jockey, the deal was sweeter?”
“How do you propose that, hm? Right now I don’t have to set foot in your shit town. My people don’t mix with your people, and so on. The money just…appears. That’s what happens when you’re in charge, you know. You pay other people to pay you. See?”
“What you’re getting now is meth money. That kind of cash burns out fast.”
“And?”
“And why would you protect a time-bomb investment on the credit of some loud-mouthed, puffed-up jackass, rather than an immortal one with anothernumbersguy?”
“Don’t tell me Liam’s a numbers guy, babe.”
“He’s not.” I know full well what I’m implying, what I’m saying, and where I’m going with this. It might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And I do it anyway. “I am.”
Now Connor’s smile slowly fades, but his eyes have sharpened to knives, and there’s something brighter than amusement in them. He’s impressed. “You’re offering to be my liaison.”
“I’m offering to fill the void between your people and my people, to a mutually beneficial end. Jockey’s out. Me and Liam are in.”
“My guys killed your man’s best friend. He went away for three years. Something tells me business isn’t going to make that void any less personal.” But he’s not shutting it down—something about the offer has hooked him. “And you’re costing me one of my dogs, see?”
“You don’t need another dog.” I gesture to the bartender for another pair of beers, and level Connor with as confident a stare as I can. “You need another hunter.”
He sits back, doesn’t blink as our fresh beers are delivered. I don’t either. My heart is thrumming against my ribs, my tongue dry. I need this to work. I need this to protect Liam, and myself, and my kids. I’ve already risked so much just coming here.
“Here I thought you were some bland small-town, white-trash mom, coming around to beg me to leave you and precious man alone.” Connor drums his fingers on the bar, still watching me, eyes keen. “What a surprise you are.”
“Good thing you hate clichés.”
A flicker of a smile. He grabs his beer and drinks. “I’ll think on it.”
Yes. Fuck.Yes. The thrill of those words vibrates in my belly. I tip back my beer and drink, long steady sparkling pulls, finish the glass and wipe foam from my lip. I want to get out of here before Connor has a chance to change his mind, or I have a chance to pussy out.
“Well,” I say, draping my coat over my arm and standing. “You know where to find me.”
I brush past him and head for the door.
“Lexie.”
I pause and look over my shoulder, find Connor grinning at me in a brand new and wildly inappropriate way. “You ever get tired of Liam,” he says. “Give me a call, hm?”
