I meet his eyes. “That’s all I want, and everything I did for you is favored out.”
Then he steps back and turns away, just enough to show the decision has been made without giving me the comfort of hearing it plainly. “She must matter,” he says.
I don’t answer straight away. Then, because he’s earned the truth more than most men ever do, I say, “More than the money.”
That makes him glance back at me. “Careful,” he says. “Men get stupid when they start weighing women against business.”
I refuse to answer, as I’ve said enough.
His gaze holds mine for a moment, unreadable. Then he returns to the desk. “My accounts guy will send the figure.”
I give him a single nod.
And because neither of us needs the scene dragged out any further, I turn for the door.
“One more thing.”
I pause.
“You do one job for me. Something coming in next month needs a team who can operate without a trace. You and your crew, one job, and I give you everything. Client name. Theiraddress. What they eat for breakfast and who they’re fucking scared of." He spreads his hands. “Favor for favor. Clean transaction.”
I glance back at him. “No,” I say.
“North—”
“We’re done with contracts. That was the agreement.”
“The agreement was you walk away clean. I honored that.” He tilts his head. “I’m asking for one favor.”
“You’re asking me to go back in. And the answer is no. What I did for you before I left, that doesn’t expire. You remove the contract for Adelaide, and we’re even.”
The man in the corner has his hand resting near his sidearm and not on it, which is as much courtesy as I’m going to get, and I acknowledge it.
The chief stares at me for a long moment. Then he exhales, his nose scrunching into disgust. “Get out of my bar,” he commands. “Before I change my mind because I’m looking at your face.”
I move to the door.
“She’d better be worth it,” he says.
I walk out.
On my bike, I take off fast and ride three miles before I pull over on a quiet stretch where the road runs alongside a chain-link fence backing onto a residential property, nothing around.
I get off the bike and check it. Every panel. The underside of the wheel wells, the exhaust housing, the storage compartment. The chief didn’t build what he had by being sentimental about protocol when it stopped being useful.
Clean. Nothing. Surprising.
I climb back on and sit for a moment with the engine off.
The amount of blood on my hands for that man… not all of it mine. And he sits on a leather couch in a back room with his arms spread wide and acts like the balance sheet is even. It isn’teven close. Part of what I’m paying for by walking away from the work is not having to calculate it anymore.
But if he pulls the contract, Adelaide has one less thing following her. Not zero since whoever hired the chief used him because they had money and intent, and when the chief declines, that person finds someone else. They always do.
I need to find the bastard who’s after her.
I start the engine and pull back onto the road. The sun is lower now, cutting long across the asphalt, and I lean into the first bend.
She laughed at the luau last night. Stood on her feet and screamed for Luca and Ace like she’d been waiting her whole life to have something to scream about. Leaned into my shoulder afterward and let herself stay there without acting nonchalant about it.
