Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

Saylor

"Are those dog treats?" Keith asked, squinting at the three oversized reusable bags that were jam-packed with treats, toys, bowls, food, a leash, and even a shrink-wrapped dog bed.

I wasn't much for shopping.

But I'd practically blacked out in the pet store, grabbing shit and piling it into the mini two-decker cart I'd grabbed at the door.

Apparently, shopping was a lot more fun when it didn't involve shit I needed for myself.

"Are you serious right now?" I asked, pressing the muzzle of the gun a little more firmly against his temple.

"Ey, ey, I'm just asking a question," he said, holding up his hands.

"I'm the one asking questions," I reminded him.

Keith was a pain in the ass.

A mid-level hacker who worked with anyone who could give him some cash to support his gaming, energy drink, and frozen pizza roll addiction.

A city of twenty-five-thousand restaurants and he ate pizza rolls almost exclusively.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he said, nodding his head, making his floppy alpaca haircut jiggle. "You're one badass chick," he agreed, making me sigh and lower the gun since it was having exactly no impact on him.

I'd only pulled the gun when he'd ignored me as he tapped away with his fancy split keyboard and rambled on and on to me about ceramic keycaps and ‘creamy' switches, telling me that was why the typing sounded ‘thunky' instead of ‘clacky.'

It was like the guy was speaking a different language.

Nerdanese or something.

At least the gun had gotten him to swivel away from his set of three monitors to actually look at me.

And let me look at him.

He looked a little paler than the last time I'd seen him. Which was saying something because the guy could cosplay as Casper on a good day. It was likely thanks to his endless hours stuck inside his stuffy apartment over the bodega where he bought his canned energy drinks and pizza rolls.

It was a postage stamp of a place, but since all he had in the world was a bed without a frame and his hacking and gaming set-up, I guess that didn't matter.

Aside from his hideously floppy dirty blond hair, he was a good-looking guy with angular features that would likely look a lot better with some sunlight, a salad and a steak, and maybe a few trips to the gym to put some weight on him.

His green eyes watched me from behind black-rimmed glasses.

"You got a dog?"

"I stole a dog," I said, shrugging.

"What kind of dog? I could see you with an all-black Shepherd. Or one of those spotted Great Danes. Maybe a Doberman…"

"She's a pit," I said, shrugging.

"Girl dog, huh?" he asked, giving me a small smile.

"What about it?"

"Difference between dumb and happy and smart and sassy," he said.

"What the hell do you know about dogs?" I asked, waving around his place that had only ever been home to him.

"Special interest," he said. "There's no rawhide in there, is there?" he asked, looking at the bags.

"No. Why?"

"Because they cause blockages."

"Hey, kid, focus," I said, snapping at him. "Focus. Czech crime syndicate."

"Just trying to look out for your little girl," he said, holding up his hands. "Oh, I gotta get that," he went on as the little toaster oven on his counter announced his next meal.

"Fine," I sighed, dropping down on his abandoned chair.

"Made the funky bunch tonight."

I was going to regret asking, but, "What is the funky bunch?"

"Ham and cheese, bacon cheeseburger, and buffalo chicken."

"I didn't realize those came in anything other than cheese or pepperoni," I admitted.

"What? You've got to broaden your pizza roll horizons, Saylor," he told me, picking up each roll with his bare fingers to drop them into a bowl, stopping between each to try to ‘flick' the heat off his fingertips.

"You know, there's a whole world of frozen foods out there. Mozzarella sticks, onion rings, breakfast sandwiches…"

"Hey, there are breakfast pizza rolls," he claimed. "Bacon and cheese," he added.

"When is the last time you ate anything green?" I asked, getting out of his chair so he could drop back down.

"Do green peppers and chives count?" he asked.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If those green peppers and chives are in a pizza roll or not," I said as he stuffed a roll into his mouth, then puffed out the heat like a fish. "Can you get me a drink?" he asked around the roll, pointing toward his fridge.

Walking over, I pulled the fridge open to find the entire damn thing stuffed with various energy drinks and flavors.

I grabbed one at random and brought it over to him. "These things literally thicken your blood, you know," I told him. "People drop dead from clots because of them all the time."

"And your gummy candy addiction is healthy?" he shot back.

Hey, that was fair.

But also…

"How the fuck do you know that?"

To that, I got a little smirk out of him.

"I'm good at my job."

"Who paid you to hack me?"

"No one! No one!" he said, holding up his hands, a pizza roll between a few of his fingers. "Honest. Just like looking into who I'm working for. You know, when my games are updating and stuff."

"Fine," I said, sighing. "Now, do you want to get paid or not?" I asked, reaching for some more cash. Cash that I'd needed to stop home to get since I'd left the rest with the drug dealers next to my warehouse.

"No cash," he said, shaking his head. "Crypto. You know the deal."

"You're a pain in the ass," I agreed. "I'll send it when I get on my computer again. Now, Czech crime crew. What do you know?"

"Well, you lucked out that I don't work for them. No confidentiality issue."

"You're not a fucking shrink, Keith," I reminded him.

"Still. You wouldn't want me telling everyone the way to your heart is with gummy fish and big cups of black coffee."

I was getting a headache just from a twenty-minute conversation with this kid. "Czech. Crew. Now," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

"You probably need some water," he told me, diagnosing my headache.

"Rich coming from someone who drinks liquid poison all day. Keith, I'm running short on patience."

"And you have a dog to get back to," he said, glancing at the bags again, this time with a little more concern. "Okay. Czech crew. I had someone mention them a few days back."

"And?" I prompted when he didn't go on.

"And… they got a place over in Washington Heights."

"I'm gonna need more than that, Keith."

"I think they mentioned a townhouse."

"There's several strips of townhouses. I need more."

"I can look into it," he said, then, at my glare. "I will look into it."

"When?"

"I have some time next wee—" he started, watching me as I stalked toward him. "Today. I'll work on it today."

"Good. Then you will also call me today," I demanded. "I want an address before dark."

"Okay. Alright," he said, nodding. "Go feed your dog. What's her name by the way?" he asked.

"Oh," I said, frowning.

"She doesn't have a name?"

"I don't think they ever used one for her."

"Well, she needs a name."

"Got one?"

"Not without seeing her," he said as if that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

"She's… tan."

"Yeah, but, what's her personality? Is she a lover or a loner? Does she enjoy—"

"I have a feeling this is going to go off-track really quickly," I cut him off. "Focus on the Czech's address. I will name my own dog."

With that, I headed out, stopping outside to let out a loud snarl that everyone passing ignored before jumping back on the subway to Spanish Harlem where I did a paranoid sweep of the building before going back down to greet the dog, tossing out toys that she stared at, unsure what she was supposed to do with them.

And that, well, was sad as fuck, wasn't it?

"We'll work on the toy thing," I told her as I set up her food dish, filling it with kibble, then using a paper plate to plop the wet food on. "You're going to just have to not judge me on the paper plate, okay? The idea of scrubbing that stinky crap off of a bowl makes my stomach churn," I told her as she walked over and started to scarf said stinky crap up before following up with a good half of the kibble as well.

I filled up her gravity-feeding water dish as she ate, then went over to spread out her bed that suddenly didn't seem big or soft enough now that I saw it in the space.

"I'll upgrade it," I told her as she walked over to sniff it, then stand on it, turn around, and, finally, curl up on it.

It occurred to me then that she'd likely never had anything soft to sleep on before. Her whole life was outdoors. And, sure, she had a little plastic igloo to hide from the rain and snow in, but I doubted they had a bed in there.

I had the sudden urge to buy her the fluffiest fucking bed in the world.

Maybe my newfound desire to shop would include online shopping after checking for reviews.

"Alright. You take a little nap while I go and mess around in my office, okay?" I told her. "Then we will go for a walk and do your business before I head out for the night."

She was already asleep, belly full, warm, and comfortable by the time I made it to the steps.

I went ahead and surfed for beds, finding an orthopedic one that was nine inches thick and big enough for her to stretch to her full size on it.

Was it almost two hundred dollars?

Yes.

But she'd had an outside life up until now.

She deserved comfort.

I also ordered other things I missed at the pet store. Shampoo, a collar that wasn't a chain, dog tags with my address, enrichment toys, a toothbrush and paste, and a collapsible dog waterer to take on walks. I considered getting her booties because, well, city streets were disgusting. But I didn't know her well enough to know if she would let me put them on. I put them on a wishlist along with a coat that she might need in the coming months, but I had to measure her first.

Several hundred bucks poorer, I sent Keith the crypto, knowing where to find him if he didn't make good on the deal, then I went downstairs to walk my first dog, and have the lovely experience of cleaning up my first dog mess with the little baggies that were in a clip attached to her leash.

"Alright, girl. I am going to go get some work done, okay?" I said, petting her head as she immediately went back to her bed to relax. "I will come and take you out one more time before bed," I promised her, then headed back out.

I was in my storage unit, shifting some boxes and totes around to get to the stash of gold bars I kept at the bottom, knowing I was going to need to take a trip to Jersey to pay the bikers.

Gold bars were a slightly unconventional way to keep my money. But, well, cash was risky. Cash made the IRS get all squirrelly and curious. Gold bars weren't traceable if you purchased them anonymously.

At the current conversion rate, two one-pound bars would pay back the bikers. Leaving this unit with another twenty of them. Half a mill, give or take. Part of my retirement plan.

Because, let's face it, you couldn't be an arms dealer forever. And it was smart to sock away as much as possible early on, so you could get out before you got yourself killed.

I had a few storage units in the tri-state area, a couple of safety deposit boxes, and a go-bag in my house. But that one had diamonds, not bars. Easier to take on the run. Enough to get started somewhere else.

But it wasn't time to retire.

I had six years left, if everything went to plan.

But if these Czech guys were coming for my business, I wasn't ready to retire early. At least not as comfortably as I wanted to in a city this pricey.

So I was going to get my shit back.

And then take them all out if I had to.

Which was the plan as I donned an oversize hoodie after I got a call from Keith, ready to do some up close and personal surveillance.

I saw no scouts.

I didn't even see any cameras.

But, clearly, someone was paying attention.

Because the door whipped open, and a guy who hadn't been on the damn surveillance videos came out toting a gun.

Then calling out to me.

I had no real choice in the matter.

If I ran around the corner, he would follow. And people, for better or worse, minded their own business in the city. At most, people might video my attack or shooting. I had no hope that someone would step in to save me.

The guy in the ridiculous mini pickup truck was my only real choice.

I'd clocked him on my first trip down the street. Sitting there in a suit with a newspaper spread over the steering wheel. Acting like he was waiting for someone. But clearly, the guy was casing the joint.

But, hey, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

Or, at least, he was a quick ride out of the hot zone.

So I flew at the truck, rolling my eyes when the handle pulled open immediately. Like the idiot was asking to be carjacked.

I reached for one of my guns, aiming it at him as I climbed inside.

"Drive," I growled as his gaze moved past me toward the man who was, no doubt, now running after me.

Thankfully, the driver started the engine and threw the car into drive before the Czech guy could get any decent shots off, seeming to only manage to hit the bumper as we drove off.

As he drove out of the darkened street and onto the crossroad with more lights, his face was no longer cast mostly in shadow.

And, damn, he was kind of hot.

Fine.

There was no ‘kind of' about it.

The man's jaw was cut from granite.

And he had one of those, you know, broody brows.

I couldn't see his eyes very well, but I got the impression they weren't brown. His hair was a dark brown that hinted at black, but didn't quite get there.

There were several butterfly strips holding together the skin on his forehead. Which was hotter than it had a right to be.

What can I say? I'd always been into guys with scars.

"Am I just driving endlessly, or are you gonna give me a direction?" he asked as my feet fought against a cooler in the footwell while I kept the gun trained on him even though he hadn't made a move for a weapon yet.

"Head toward Harlem," I demanded, feeling my pulse start to even out now that we were far enough away from the row houses.

"Care to tell me why you were staking out a heavily armed group of Czechs?" he asked after a few silent moments.

"Depends."

"On?"

"If you're gonna tell me why you were staking them out," I said.

Stuck at a light, his gaze cut to mine, trying to bore into me, but I knew the hoodie was keeping me mostly in shadow.

"Quid pro quo?" he asked.

"What is this, a movie?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Two people with a common enemy. Seems like we're better off comparing notes than holding each other at gunpoint," he said, and it was right then I noticed he'd managed to slide his own gun out and place it on his leg when I'd been distracted by him looking at me.

"Fine," I said, sighing. "But we'll do it in a public place."

"Got any ideas?" he asked.

"M&C Diner on 125 th ," I said as my stomach let out another grumble, reminding me that while I'd watched Keith eat and had fed the dog, I'd yet to put anything in my stomach but caffeine and a few bites of food cart hotdog.

"Alright," he agreed, but he kept his gun trained on me.

I couldn't blame him.

I had mine trained on him until he cut the engine and we both climbed out of the truck in unison.

"Watch it," I snarled at a delivery biker as I reached to grab the back of the driver's suit jacket, yanking him back a step so he didn't get collided with. "Asshole!" I called as he peddled away without a care.

The driver looked down at me with stormy blue eyes, brows drawn together.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head, then reached for the door.

"Nothing."