I nod. “Yes. Get in and out quickly. Show confidence. Don’t let him walk all over me. And when in doubt, leave. Now,” I say, eyeing each of the frowning men. “You gonna let me do this, or what?”
“Be careful, baby,” Dex says, leaning over the seat to give me a quick kiss.
“Come back quickly or I’m coming in after you,” Pete says before giving me a kiss that’s a little too heated to send me away with.
Sly reaches back from the driver’s seat to squeeze my hand. “Be safe.” He turns to Jagger. “Take care of our girl.” Jagger nods before opening the door and stepping down. He reaches up to help me hop down before slamming the door shut in their faces before they can say anything else.
I try not to laugh, but I understand where he’s coming from. They were making way too big a deal about this. Iwasn’t completely incompetent. I could talk to strangers, and I had Jagger with me.
We parked a few stores down from the auto shop, and when it comes into view, I have to take a steadying breath before we step into the open garage.
Inside smells like hot oil and cigarette smoke as thick, heavy air clings to my throat. Somewhere in the back, a radio hums off-key, half-swallowed by the sound of metal grinding against metal.
I glance at Jagger as we step inside. He’s silent, but alert, every movement controlled. His eyes lock with mine for a brief moment, telling me everything I need to know: he won’t let anything happen to me.
With an attempt at a confidence I don't feel, I roll my shoulders back and step forward.
A man looks up from under the hood of a stripped-down car, a long wrench in his hand. He’s older than I expected, wiry, with dark hair streaked with gray and slicked back from his face. Tattoos twist up both arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt.
He eyes Jagger first, then me, smirking a little. “You’re not from around here.”
I give him a small, polite smile, almost falling into a curtsy out of old habit. “We’re looking for Marco Leone.”
“Who’s asking?”
“We were told you build signal scramblers,” I say, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about. “The kind that can block all short-range cameras and radio feeds.”
The wrench drops onto the workbench with a heavy clank. “And who told you that?”
I shrug a shoulder, deciding to play my cards close to my chest. If he thinks I’ll offer up a name so easily, he might notbe willing to sell to me. “Doesn’t matter. What I care about is if you have one for sale.”
He studies me like he’s deciding whether he’s going to deal with me or not so I cross my arms and try to look stern as I wait for his reply. “You know how these things work?”
I nod, and his gaze flicks toward Jagger, narrowing. “He can wait outside.”
Jagger’s jaw tightens, and I reply, “Not happening.”
Marco shrugs, his tone low and lazy. “I don’t deal with men. He leaves, or you both leave… empty-handed.”
“Look,Marco, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m tiny, you’re huge, and you know I have enough cash on me to pay for the scrambler. He doesn’t leave my side, and I’m not leaving until I get that scrambler. You don’t have to deal with him. You’re dealing with me, a woman. Now, do you have the scrambler or not?”
He wipes his hands on a rag, moving closer, his eyes narrowed as he assesses me. “You’ve got some fire in you.Scommetto che sei un petardo a letto.”
The Italian phrase translates to ‘I bet you’re a firecracker in bed.’
Without missing a beat, I narrow my eyes as I fire back in Italian, “Just because I'm a woman doesn't give you an excuse to speak to me like that.”
His eyebrows lift, surprise flickering through his face. “You speak Italian?”
“Sì. Now, how about that signal scrambler?” I ask in Italian, and suddenly he laughs, sounding genuine, then pulls a metal case from under the counter and sets it down between us.
“Dual-band, handheld, thirty-second spin-up. That’s the best you’ll find.”
I reach for it, but he catches my wrist, his fingers rough and greasy against my skin. “Careful, bella. Things like that are dangerous in the wrong hands.”
I don’t think, I just move. My knife’s out before he can blink, the tip pressing into the soft hollow of his throat right beside a second blade. I try not to smile, realizing Jagger moved at the same time as me, and now we’re both holding knives to his neck.
“Non toccarmi.”Don’t touch me,I whisper.
