ONE
Gunner
“What are you doing?” I asked, looking down at where Lincoln had suddenly thrown himself under the table.
“Those girls that came in,” he explained, waving a hand to the two who had come in and sat at the bar.
“What about them?”
“I slept with them both,” he explained, then shook his head. “How the hell was I supposed to know they were sisters?”
I snorted at that, taking a long look at the two tall, leggy blondes with small breasts and high asses, blue eyes, and very similar bone structure. “The fact that they could be fucking twins might have been a giveaway.”
“It was just fun. I wasn’t analyzing them for DNA markers,” he shot back. “When they found out, they broke my windshield.”
“You said a tree branch fell through it.”
“Yeah, after they whacked it with one a few dozen times.”
Christ.
Lincoln liked women.
Lincoln really liked women.
In general, he wasn’t a fuck around kind of guy. He was more likely to have a steady chick than a string of random lays. But when he was fresh off a breakup, he had been known to take a tour of a few beds before he settled with someone again.
Apparently, this occasionally landed him in hot water.
“Stop being a chickenshit,” I said as his hand curled over the top of the table in search of his beer.
“I just got that car, man. I don’t want to put that poor baby through that.”
On top of women, Lincoln had a thing for cars. The fuck had to carry fleet insurance because he had so many. He came into the office three days ago demanding we all come out and take a look at the new Camero he had just picked up after his last job brought in double what his usual cut got him.
“You seriously going to stay under there all night? They look like they’re settling in,” I added as both girls took the empty seats at the bar, stirring the cherries in their drinks. “Besides, they’re probably over it by now,” I added as one of them smiled at some suit at the end of the bar. “Sure you aren’t that memorable,” I finished, just because the bastard had a big enough ego.
“You’re right,” he agreed, climbing back out, settling down. “I’m sure they’re over… oh shit,” he said as one of the girls got eyes on him, then slapped a hand into her sister. There was a moment of what looked like furious conversation before they started over.
My phone vibrated on the table, making me let out a grumble, a bit too invested in seeing how this interaction was going to go. “Yeah?”
“Yeah? That’s how you answer a work call?” Jules asked, malice in her voice, as there always was when she spoke to me. And, to be fair, it was in mine when I spoke to her as well.
Some people you met and got on with right away.
Others took time.
Some still were just never going to be people you wanted to be around.
And then there were the few who came into your life like oil to your water.
That was Jules and me.
That didn’t mean I didn’t respect her, but I didn’t have to like her to do that either.
“Got a problem with it, you could call someone else,” I suggested, twirling my glass around as the girls finally broke through the Saturday night crowd, closing in on our table.
“Unfortunately, I have to speak to you. It’s your kind of job.”
My kind of job.
That meant I was about to be out of town for a while.
And, honestly, I was itching for it. I’d been in the same place for too long, working on the other guys’ jobs when they needed help, not doing any of my own.
The last time I had a stretch away was after that Russia job last year when I made the wife disappear.
I needed to get away for a while.
“I’m on my way,” I told Jules, hanging up.
“Don’t leave me,” Lincoln demanded as the girls finally stopped right at the edge of the table.
“Sorry, man. Got a job. You’re on your own,” I said, slapping a hand on his shoulder as I got out of my seat and made my way through the bar.
The air had a hint of spring to it as I moved outside. Winter had had a death grip on us for what felt like ages; it was nice to know the end was near.
Lincoln had driven us – and since he was probably getting a butter-knife castration right about now – I turned, and started walking across town toward the office that had been my home for a few years.
It was a stability of sorts to someone who had never known much of it, had always had wings and no roots, a place to call home even if I sometimes chafed at the idea.