I nod, unseen by Rachelle. “They seem to be leaving us alone for the most part lately. Haven’t heard much from my runners either but I’ll tell him what I know.”
“Nana wants to sit down with you soon.” Rachelle sighs as I try not to feel nerves light up through my bloodstream. “Something about hauling up to DC.”
“I don’t deal where spies and politicians play. They’ll turn on you in a heartbeat. Risley knows that.”
“But Risley wants to hop down to Mexico and retire so Risley said fuck the risks, the money is worth it.” Rachelle sounds like she thinks her grandma is crazy, the way she keeps punctuatingher name, and I agree but I’m not arguing about it over the phone.
“She knows how to get in touch. Thanks for hooking this up.”
“Have fun.”
I end the call and glance in my rear view but there’s nothing save for dark roads and boulders along the mountainside. A quick check of the clock and it’s just about midnight when my blue headlights illuminate Cathedral Bay’s gray and white sign, the obscure entrance right behind it. I don’t turn on my signal as I pull onto the dirt road, trees arching over my car like gnarled fingers. The moon is a sliver in the sky but with the forest around me, I can’t see a thing out here.
I crack my window just in case there’s anything I need to hear as I drive slow down the road. It’s a winding path and the further down it I get, the more the scent of the lake fills my lungs.
Before long, the black building that houses a small office and a larger area for mechanics to work on the boats looms into view. There’s one vehicle that isn’t a ship, a nondescript white car. Boring, and perfect not to rouse attention. “Ten” probably makes what I do in a year, and it’s enough money to buy all this land with cash plus some, but it’s good not to look flashy most of the time.
Flashy is cocky is caught.
I pull up beside him in the dirt lot by the marina and glance out at the docks. A few ships bob in the water, more are wrapped in black plastic for the end of season, and the water is still and inky dark in the glow of my headlights.
I turn my head and look through the passenger window. Despite the fact the white car’s not tinted, I don’t see Tennessee inside.
That makes me feel uneasy. I’m not poking around this place looking for him. I don’t even know if I want any informationhe might have; I agreed to meet with him because I respect Rachelle. Otherwise, he’s not got anything I need.
I glance at the gun lying on my console and hear the water lapping at the boats out on Coven Lake, a few crickets out in October chirping away.
But when there’s a quick thud on my door, I don’t hear anyone sneak up on me and the gun is in my hand and pointed right at Tennessee as he backs away with his hands up, just enough room with the window down for me to fire a bullet in his chest.
My pulse thuds between my ears and I don’t take my finger off the trigger. Storm might’ve gotten one of my guns in the woods but I have plenty more and if I need to empty this one in Ten’s lanky form, I will.
I reach for the door handle and open up my car but I don’t lower my weapon when I step out.
Ten has a deep tan, wrinkles covering almost every inch of his skin I can see, body covered by a white, long sleeve button down and white pants that remind me of coastal vacations. He’s in loafers although I can’t discern the color in the dark. Salt and pepper hair, and as I blink in the night, I note the sideways smile on his face.
I’ll blow his head off if the first word out of his mouth isn’t “sorry.”
I nudge my driver’s door shut with my hip and aim at his chest with both hands around the Glock.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he says easily, his southern accent thick. “I thought you’d hear me come up on you.” His words almost sound like a scolding and I’m tempted to fill his heart with holes for the audacity but slowly, I lower the gun and just look at him, the trench coat covering most of my body but it doesn’t stop him from leering.
“You’re Lynx’s niece,” he says quietly with something like twisted reverence. “If I play my cards right, you think you could put me in touch with that son of a bitch?”
I lift my chin and smile. “No. Now, what do you have for me?”
He laughs, a rusty sound, then drops his hands but wisely doesn’t put them in his pockets. He glances over his shoulder at the lake a hundred yards from us. “I see the relation,” he says as he looks at me again. “How often you hear from your supplier?”
“Often enough.”
“How much you making after their cut?”
I narrow my eyes. “Profit margin? Why don’t you tell me what I could be making before I tell you anything or else this is going to be a waste of my time and people around here don’t like to waste time.”
“You’re something else, aren’t you?”
I hear a rustle in the woods at my back, just past where I pulled off from into the clearing of the marina. But between taking my eyes off Ten, whom I don’t like, and risking him pulling something over on me, I know what I’m doing.
Besides, his own eyes shift, then come right back with no change of expression.
