“Who said they’ve made contact?” Pyro hedged, still not keen on roping Bronx further into this mess.
“Cut the crap. I know they have. What time?”
He was guessing, more than likely, but Bronx had an uncanny ability to read people. Always had. It was that innate quality that’d always kept him alive. “Meeting is at eight tonight at the old shoe factory.”
“Makes sense. Dark, abandoned, dangerous. All right, let’s do this. Seems like old times.”
“Bronx, stop. Think of your family, man. This is too dicey,” he warned. “I don’t want you anywhere near the factory when this goes down.”
Bronx sobered and said, “You and I go way back. You’ve always had my back. I won’t repay that loyalty by pussing out when you need me the most. We’re going to end this, man. And then, when it’s all over, we’re going to enjoy a beer and put this shit behind us because life is better on the other side. That’s a promise.”
Life on the other side. What was that like? He thought of Angel and how damaged she was and how fucked up he was and he wondered was something like that even possible for the two of them? What kind of future was he thinking about? Angel didn’t want the fairy tale ending. She’d since learned that they didn’t exist. And to hear her tell, she didn’t want anything permanent with him either. Hell, she didn’t even want anything temporary with him.
But he wanted her. God, he wanted her. His desire for her transcended reason or logic. Was this what love felt like? Crazy, irrational, insane? Not a great endorsement if it was. He’d slept better than he had in years when Angel was tucked into his side. He couldn’t remember a time when insomnia hadn’t ridden him like a bitch. But not since Angel had shown up in his life. Now he was sleeping like a baby.
So what did it mean?
Wasn’t it obvious? You’re in love with her.
Yeah, he was afraid of that.
He looked to Bronx with a sigh of acceptance, saying, “Fine, you dumb bastard. If you’re determined to put yourself in harm’s way, how am I supposed to stop you?”
“Right on, brother,” Bronx said, smiling in that way that always looked a little crazy. “So let’s go have some fun.”
“Fun. Right. Let’s hope that luck’s on our side this time around,” he said. “Because we’re going to need it."
***
If there’d ever been a time when Angel needed her nerves to settle, this was it. As the clock ticked closer to the meeting time, Angel suffered the overwhelming urge to break down and spill her guts. But somehow by the grace of God, she kept her mouth shut and managed to put in the performance of her life by focusing on the one thing that kept her going–Mila.
“Are you okay? You’re pretty quiet.” Pyro’s concern was salt in the wound. Her only way to combat the guilt that was suffocating her was to shut him out. But even that was hard. She’d never felt this way about someone and it did not escape her notice that Pyro was the least appropriate man to fall in love with but what could she do? What was done was done. Pyro sighed when she remained silent. “It’s going to be all right. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I know.” She nodded, her gut clenching. Pyro was so concerned about protecting her but who was going to protect him? They climbed into his Blazer and as he started the engine she turned to him suddenly. “Promise me, that whatever happens, you’ll do what you have to do to keep yourself safe.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
But how could he? He didn’t have all the information and that was her fault. She licked her lips that were suddenly dry. “Please Pyro. You don’t know what these people are like. They’re ruthless and they’ll do anything to get what they want.”
“Baby, if it comes down to that, I’ll do what needs to be done. Let’s hope everything goes to plan.”
In spite of Pyro’s quiet confidence, Angel couldn’t relax. There were too many variables — too many things that could go wrong and tip the scales against them. “You’re good man. I spent a long time hating you for all the wrong reasons. I’m so sorry for misjudging you.”
“You didn’t misjudge me. I fucked up. There’s no way to pretty that up. If anyone deserves an apology it’s you.”
She shook her head, tears spilling. “Pyro, please don’t apologize to me. I don’t deserve it. Whatever you do, just stay alive. That’s thanks enough for me.”
Pyro didn’t press even though she could tell he was puzzled by her comment. She gazed at his profile, memorizing every line. When the night was over they may all be dead or Pyro would be dead and she would live with what she’d done to save her daughter. Not a great scenario, either way. She never thought it possible to fall in love with someone so deeply and in such a short amount of time but she couldn’t deny how she felt about him. Her heart ached. For so long she’d wished for revenge on Pyro for what he’d done to her sister but she’d never considered what that loss had done to him. She knew now that every day was a punishment and that every day he lived with the guilt of failing Ashley. That night had done so much damage to them both. She should’ve been smarter, should’ve seen that Benton was bad news from the start. Maybe if she’d been less taken in by the superficial mask Benton had worn, she wouldn’t be being forced to choose between her daughter and the man she’d fallen in love with. But a fat lot of good that did her right now, hindsight and all that. She brushed the tears from her cheeks with an angry motion. “Benton comes off as a decent guy. Don’t trust him when he smiles. That’s when he’s at his worst.”
“Good to know.”
Pyro’s demeanor had changed, going from concerned for her, to hard and businesslike. She knew this was his game face. It was scary and gave her the chills but in a good way. If anyone could best Benton, it was Pyro. She had to put her faith in him even if she couldn’t tell him the exact truth. At least not yet. Not until her daughter was in her arms.
-13-
Benton ran his fingers lightly through Mila’s soft hair, smiling as dollar signs whizzed through his head. She’s going to be pretty —as pretty as her mama—and he could fairly see the buyers lining up to buy this pretty baby.
“You sure the mother isn’t going to be a problem?” Crawford, a paunchy middle-aged cop asked with a glower. “She doesn’t seem the type to disappear quietly.”
“Let me worry about Angel. So far she’s been doing as she’s told. I have all the leverage I need to get her to play ball.” He picked up Mila and held her tenderly as if she were his own child. “Is Stanton ready for the next shipment?”
“Yes. We have all the product, ready to go, and just waiting for the pick up.”
Benton smiled, pleased. “Excellent. After tonight all the loose ends will be taken care of and we can move operations to a more secure location.”
Crawford eyed the child with a glint in his eyes that Benton recognized and he shook his head with a small tsk. “Sorry Crawford, out of your price range. This one is special.”
Crawford scowled. “What’s so special about this one?”
Benton shook his head, annoyed. Was it his penance in life to always deal with idiots? “Can’t you see her bone structure? Her eyes? This one will bring more money than our entire current shipment. You have to learn to be more discerning as well as discipline yourself. Honestly, how have you gotten this far in life without getting caught” He didn’t try to hide the disgust in his voice. Crawford was a means to an end but he was quickly outliving his usefulness. He had a bad habit of sampling the goods before they were sold. Maybe after all of this was finished, Crawford would have to go away. “Did you take care of the paperwork from the last acquisition?” Benton didn’t like to get his hands dirty— That’s what twisted cops were for. “And do you have a list of potential acquisitions for next week?”
“Of course. I went out on call last week for child endangerment and this one is ripe. No one’s going to miss these kids if they go missing. The system is bloated and kids disappear all the time and no one notices.”
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“Well, thank goodness for that or else we’d be out of business.”
Unlike Crawford, Benton never sampled the goods. He believed in keeping business and pleasure separate — plus he didn’t screw with kids. It was simply business, and he liked to think in some small way that perhaps he was doing the kids a favor because, let’s face it, it’s not as if they were living the high life. But he didn’t delude himself into thinking that he was a good man. Hell, he didn’t care two shits about what happened to the kids as long as the check cleared.
“Be at the shoe factory at 7:30. I don’t want any surprises.”
“Don’t worry we’ll be there. I’ve been waiting a long time to put a bullet in that fucker’s head.”
“Good. But you’d better be on your toes. From what I hear Pyro isn’t an easy mark.”
“You handle your shit, I’ll handle mine.”