Cash
Cash walkedinto Reed’s stuffy office like a cat with a tuna in his mouth. He had treated himself to a new Gucci suit (navy pinstripe with a peaked lapel) and came straight from the barber with a tightened beard and freshly shaved undercut.
He looked pretty fucking good. But it was the file in his briefcase that really put a spring in his step, and when Reed finally turned to greet him, his eyes went straight there.
“Already?” Reed grunted. “I just hired you last week.” The man slumped over his desk, not bothering to stand up. He wore an old brown suit that hugged him too tightly, and as he stroked his chin, he nodded. “I take it you didn’t run into any problems in the Capitol?”
Cash set the briefcase down with a flourish. He had always despised Reed, who seemed determined to take the fun out of their work. Even though his office was stuffed in a skyscraper full of legitimate businesses, right in downtown Manhattan, there was still a grumpy man with a gun at the door, and the wood-paneled walls reeked of cigarette smoke, like they were in some two-bit criminal’s lair. Men like Reed just had no flair, no sense of sophistication.
And Cash didn’t see what the point of doing anything was, if you didn’t do it with at least a little style.
“No problems,” he answered, then flipped the briefcase open. “Your client will be happy to know I made it in and out of Senator Dooley’s campaign office and his home office both without a hitch.” He cracked his knuckles, then took the papers from the briefcase, fanning them in front of Reed. “You’ll see the dossier is complete. I’ve accounted for dinners, fake committee meetings, a few gift purchases. There’s a credit card that seemed to be used just for philandering, and in this yellow envelope, you’ll see some choice emails, although most of the files on his network were deeply encrypted.” He smiled to himself, proud of how much he had gathered on such a closely guarded target. “I take it you’re representing the interests of what? A pissed-off wife? A scorned mistress? Or mister?”
Reed snorted. “None of your damn business, you know that. What about the drawer?”
Cash reached into the pocket of the briefcase, then pulled out a small blue pouch. He untied the string and dumped the contents onto the desk. “I was really expecting something more interesting,” he quipped as a gold ring, a few silver-specked rocks, some burner phones, and a framed snapshot of the senator with Ronald Reagan all tumbled out. “Make sure you get in the bottom drawer! Everything depends on thebottom drawer!I thought there’d at least be a gun in there, maybe some panties. A dismembered finger… Anything!”
Again, Reed snorted, dismissing Cash without looking up. He held the ring to the flickering overhead light, a plain band with a fat diamond that sparkled. “This is all the client cared about.”
“In that case, you mind if I take the rest with me?” Cash asked. He wasn’t quite sure why the Senator cared about some shiny silver rocks, but for some reason, Cash had developed a weird attachment to them.
By way of answering, Reed swept the contents back into the pouch, then dropped it in his desk drawer. Cash was about to complain, but then Reed pulled out a fat envelope and extended it across the desk. “You’re a pain in the ass, but you get the job done.”
Cash grabbed the envelope, but when he tried to pull it into his greedy hands, Reed held tight.
“That’s why I want you for another gig,” he said, then released the envelope with a grin. “One I think you’re specially suited for.” He nodded to the chair across the desk and, as Cash took a creaky seat, pulled out a decanter full of brown liquor.
“Why, Reed,” Cash joked, crossing one leg over the other as he casually hung his arm across the arm of the chair. “This must be special. You’ve never offered me so much as tap water before.”
“Maybe you finally impressed me,” Reed answered, then slid a glass to Cash. “I have a tricky mark, and I need someone with your…” He trailed off, then threw back his drink with a wince. “Your particular talents.”
“Cracking safes? High-profile surveillance? Stolen art retrieval? Or do you just need someone polished enough to attend a black-tie event?” Cash perked up in his seat and waggled his eyebrows. “I haven’t robbed a house party in years. Sounds fun!” he exclaimed, then threw back the drink.
Bourbon, and not a good one.
Reed frowned. “Your other talents,” he said, his voice scratchy. “The mark is named Lawrence. He’s twenty-three, a party boy. He lives here in Manhattan, frequents the gay clubs, but he’ll make his way all over town on the weekend.” Reed’s voice picked up a snarl. “Brunches with drag queens, dance parties on the rooftop, that kind of shit.”
Cash tilted his head. He bounced his leg, then laughed when he understood what Reed was actually saying. “Ohhhh! When you say you want my talents, you mean my gay talents.” He considered it. “I suppose some of my old hookups would agree that I’m quite talented, sure.”
“We don’t care about the kid, not really,” Reed continued. “But his father is a corporate hotshot, and my client sees Lawrence as a weakness we could exploit. Your job is to get close to him, infiltrate his phones, pull together a dossier on the family. After that, we’ll see if there are any openings you can use to hit the old man.” He stroked his chin, then grunted a laugh. “Probably won’t have to snatch the kid, but then again, I didn’t think we’d have to snatch the last one, either.”
Something inside of Cash seized, like a hand had grabbed his ribs. He despised the idea of going after someone’s child. It didn’t matter if he was grown; no one should have to pay for his father’s sins. And this guy? He didn’t sound like he was hurting anyone.
Not to mention snatching him? Cash had a strict rule. He didn’t assassinate people, and he didn’tsnatchthem, either.
No matter how good the money was.
“Sorry,” he answered with a light shrug. “Doesn’t sound like it matches my talent after all. Every time I go to brunch with a drag queen, we end up arguing electoral politics by the time the mimosas arrive.” He popped up from the chair, then smoothed down his jacket. With the reputation he was earning himself in New York, he could afford to turn down a job or two and devote a little more time to his real mission.
“Don’t be an ass,” Reed said flatly. “This is a different pay scale than you’re used to.” He scribbled on a notepad, then tossed it across the big wooden desk. “Live up to your name, Cash.”
Cash looked at the number. It was truly quite big, with one beautiful zero after the next, and his heart sang a little song while he considered the offer.
But still… Messing with some innocent kid? Practically stalking him? Not to mention Reed’s men had a nasty reputation, and there was no guarantee that this Lawrence guy would come out the other side unharmed. Especially not if kidnapping was already on the table.
“Sorry.”
Reed grunted. “I’m disappointed. It’s hard as hell breaking into Horizon Zed. Thought you’d be our best chance.”
