The phone rang so many times that I thought the call would go unanswered. The shrill, short bursts of sound grated on the ounce of nerves I had left. On and on it went, my ear aching from the force of my grinding jaw.
“Letting it go to voicemail?” Ghost assumed after too long went by. “Pretty rude yet not surprising.”
I reached for the gun still sitting on the counter. No, I wasn’t going to use it. Yet. But the weight of it in my hand made me feel more in control, like I had options.
In truth, my options were few, and all of them were grim.
Good thing I was practically a goddamn grim reaper.
Swearing under my breath, I disconnected the call and dialed it again. Frankly, giving any notice at all was courtesy. The least they could do was pick up the fucking phone.
“I’m not calling again,” I told Ghost. “Next time, they can answer to a bullet.” Or many.
Ghost spread his hands in awhat can you dokind of gesture. “The patron saint of patience is what you are right now. The Dalai Lama incarnate.”
Ghost said some stupid shit, didn’t he?
The last thing I would call myself was patient. After that shower with Haz, I was even less so.
I love you back.
For a man like me, hearing those words was the catalyst to an all-out war. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him safe. Nothing.
“How did you get this number?” a deep voice snarled into the line.
“Same place I got some information you seem to be lacking,” I bit back.
A persistent snapping sound came over the line, and I knew he was signaling for whoever he was with to trace the call.Good luck with that.
“Who says I’m lacking anything?” His voice was overfull with smug arrogance.
Arrogance was mere propaganda for the weak. “The fact that Matteo Salvatore’s murderer is still breathing.”
Weighted silence filled the line. Then a low, “Excuse me?”
I rattled off an address, then said, “Four p.m. I have proof.”
“You think you can just summon me? Who is this?”
“I have what you need. Therefore, you can come and get it. I’m not your lapdog, and I never will be. If you aren’t there by four, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
“Who is this?” he demanded again, his voice mottled with frustration.
“Clock’s ticking.”
“If I come, it won’t be alone,” he threatened.
“Good,” I replied and disconnected the call.
“Wish I could see his face when they try and trace that call and come up empty,” Ghost mused. “Suckers.”
Perk of working for the government, a phone not even the mafia could trace.
“I need you to stay here with Haz when I meet them later.”
A grim expression crossed his features, and he shook his head. “You need backup.”
“I can take care of myself. But that little hazard is a human banana peel, and I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m worrying about him slipping into the morgue.”
