Broken Hero Page 15

  “Only with this shithead behind the catcher,” he said. “Can’t call a good throw to save his life.”

  I flicked my eyes up to the screen for a brief moment before turning my attention back to Stan. “You know I’ve never really been into baseball,” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the screen. “Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it to you, you know?”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  Stan nodded toward the pitcher. “Drink up, buddy,” he said. “First one’s on me.”

  “And you know I don’t drink this shit,” I said with a good-natured tone.

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “Can’t forget Princess Garrett won’t let a single carb touch his lips.” He let out a quick bark of a laugh at his own joke.

  “Hey, not all of us can rock a gut like you, buddy,” I said.

  Stan gave his small paunch a proud smack. “Just an extra layer of padding,” he said. “Back in Roman days, gladiators liked to carry around an extra twenty pounds or so. Good for deflecting spears or whatever.”

  “Keep telling yourself that as your ass gets fatter by the day,” I said as I flagged the bartender down for a whiskey.

  Stan let out another laugh. “Prick,” he said.

  Once the drink was in front of me I took a long sip. I was going to need it for what I had to say. Stan’s eyes stayed fastened on me as I sipped.

  “All right, bud,” Stan said. “I’ve been in this game with you long enough to know when you’ve got something on that big brain of yours.”

  “That obvious?” I asked.

  “That obvious. So spill it.”

  I quickly killed my drink and ordered another. “Just thinking about this,” I said. “This thing we’re doing.”

  Stan’s face wore a hard expression.

  “What are you thinking about it, exactly?”

  “Thinking if I want to stick to it,” I said.

  Stan set down his beer. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about telling Joey to fuck off.”

  The color drained out of Stan’s face. “Explain what you mean,” he said. “Now.”

  “When I got in the middle of this whole thing, when Joey and I first met and he laid it all out what he’d done and what he expected from me, I thought it’d be an easy job. And when he told me that Ellie’s life was on the line, it was an easy choice.”

  “And it still should be,” he said. “We keep an eye on this girl, tell Joey everything she knows, and help him get her to not work with the cops. That way Ellie’s safe. And, well, there’s the other thing.”

  “Tell me you’re not talking about the money,” I said.

  “I’m talking about the money,” he said. “The fucking coin Joey’s offering us to do this shit… Man, it’s nothing to sneeze at.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Only thing is we have to betray a client and work with criminals.”

  “Garrett, buddy,” he said. “We’re fucking mercenaries. This is what we do. We work for the highest bidder, and then we get paid. If you wanted to play moral police, you’re in the wrong fucking industry. And besides, you think every client we’ve worked for was a saint or some shit?”

  “But we’ve never had to tell a client we were going to protect them knowing we were going to betray them.”

  Stan waved his hand through the air. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’m not big on that, but damn, the money more than makes up for it. And…” He trailed off.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “It’s not just Joey we could be working for. He’s inner-circle to one the most powerful crime bosses in the city. We work for him, get a good record, and we’d have an in with dozens of guys just like him—guys who’d pay big money to have us do their dirty work.”

  “You’re telling me you want to become a criminal mercenary outfit?” I asked, shocked.

  “That’s what I’m telling you,” he said. “Working for the clientele we’re usually protecting, that’s decent money. But I’ve talked with Joey—the numbers he’s been throwing around… Shit, Garrett. We’d be idiots to not give it some serious thought.” He shook his head. “And now you’re telling me you want to ditch him? And what, get on the bad side of the most bloodthirsty fuckers in the city?”

  It didn’t sound pretty—he was right about that.

  “That’s what I’m thinking. We tell him were done, that we don’t do this kind of work. We stay above board and put all this shit behind us.”

  “I can’t believe what I’m fucking hearing,” he said. “And what about Ellie?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “And I know some mercenary crews on the West Coast, some who owe us some favors. I could make some calls, get some men I trust to watch her back while all this shit goes down.”

  “Fucking hell,” he said. “This is totally insane.”

  “It’s insane, but it could work. We tell Joey to fuck off, finish keeping Natalie safe, and Ellie gets out of this in one piece.”

  “For now,” he said. “Until he wants revenge.”

  “That’s the thing,” I said. “We keep Natalie safe while she works with the NYPD, and we help her put Joey away for a long, long time.”

  “And if he decides to take us out before the cops can do their thing?”

  I let his question hang in the air for a long moment.

  “Then we do what we’ve been trained to do. We’re soldiers, after all.”

  He shook his head as he shoved his hand into the small dish of salted peanuts in front of him, a few of the nuts spilling out onto the bar. He popped them into his mouth, chewing nervously as he considered what I’d said.

  “All that money,” he said. “You want to throw it away. And for what? To be the good guy?”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” I said. “And you know it.”

  “Buddy, I didn’t get in this game to do the right fucking thing—I got in it to get paid. I threw my moral compass away when I decided to kill for the highest bidder. And it’s what I thought you did too.”

  “No,” I said. “I never got in this game to work with fucking scum like Joey.”

  Then a look of realization flashed on Stan’s face. His eyes lit up and his mouth opened slightly. “Wait a fucking minute,” he said. “Is this about the girl? You’re not sweet on her, are you?”

  Fuck. I had a feeling this would come up. Stan was a killer, sure, but he wasn’t stupid.

  No sense in lying to him.

  “We’ve hooked up,” I said.

  Stan sat back in his chair, letting the news wash over him. “Fucking hell,” he said. “You screwed the client? This is a first for you, buddy.”

  “I know,” I said. “I know. But it’s not about sex. It’s about doing the right thing.”

  “Please. You want me to believe this change of heart is about you being Captain Do-Gooder and not because you’re getting some pussy on the side?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I want you to believe it, because it’s the truth.”

  He shook his head slowly. Then he wrapped his stubby, callous fingers around his glass and drained the rest of his beer.

  “Goddamn,” he said. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re really going to sit down with Joey fucking Monroe and tell him that you’re done?”

  “Yeah,” I said, letting the word drop like a lead weight.

  “And what about the rest of the crew? Hell, what about me?”

  “You know the crew’s mostly in the dark—just how I want it. We cut ties with Joey, and as far as they know, the job goes normally.”

  “Normally until they get popped one by one by Joey’s thugs.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “If we’re lucky.”

  I turned my body toward his and looked him dead in the eyes. “Does this mean you’re on my side?” I asked. “You’re going to stick with me if the shit hits the fan?”

  “No ‘if�
�� about it,” he said. “And…yeah. I’ve been at your side for years, buddy. Not about to turn my back on you now. If this is how you want to play it, then I’m with you to the end.”

  “Thanks, Stan,” I said, clapping my hand down on his thick shoulder. “This means more than you know.”

  He shook his head again. “This isn’t going to be pretty,” he said. “But we can do it.” He poured the last of the pitcher into his glass. “And you best fucking believe the next round’s on you,” he said with a grin. “From here to fucking eternity.”

  I smirked and ordered another.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  NATALIE

  I pressed “power” on the remote, taking a glance down at the buttons as I did. The label on several of them was worn and faded from all the channel-changing and volume adjusting I’d been doing over the last few days since I’d come to stay with Garrett.

  After settling on a yet another Law and Order rerun, I felt the life drain out of me as soon as I hit “play.” The remote dropped out of my hand and landed on the carpet at my feet.

  “You OK there?” asked Garrett, looking up from the paperback thriller he was reading.

  “I’ve gone officially stir-crazy,” I said. “Staying inside for days on end and watching hour after hour of Netflix might be the idea of a perfect week for some people, but if I have to do it for any longer my brain might start melting and leaking out of my ears.”

  “You know the situation,” he said. “It’s the safest place for you to be.”

  “Didn’t you say Stan was working on making my apartment more secure?” I asked.

  “He was,” said Garrett. “But it’s still going to be a day or two before it’s ready for you to go back.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to sound like a damn diva, but aren’t I paying you guys to keep me safe so I can live something of a normal life while all this goes down?”

  A small smirk formed on his lips. “Are you suggesting that I’m keeping you cooped up in here because it’s easier?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said.

  I stood up and walked over to the tall factory windows, looking out over the city that I was being deprived of. I never thought I’d say it, but I was missing everything about the city—even the bad stuff. Even the memory of being crammed into a subway car during rush hour, with all the attendant smells, was giving me a feeling of longing.

  “Then what?” he asked.

  I bit down on my lower lip for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to ask the question. I was someone who didn’t exactly appreciate the idea of someone telling me how to do my job, so I wanted to avoid any backseat driving—or whatever the bodyguard equivalent of that would be.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I need to get out of the apartment, is all.”

  He looked away for a moment, considering the matter.

  “And if you were to get out of the apartment, then what would you want to do?”

  Truth be told, I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

  “Good question,” I said. “I’ve been stuck in here for so long I’m even missing all of the annoying things about living in the city. Even being stuck in the crowds of tourists down Fifth Avenue is starting to sound nice.”

  “Now,” he said. “Let’s not go crazy. You’d probably be changing your tune after thirty seconds of being packed in the middle of a crowd of Chinese tourists.”

  “Fair point,” I said. “Maybe something with a little more fresh air.”

  “How about the park?” he asked.

  What I wanted was to go back to work. The park hadn’t even occurred to me. Sure, Central Park wasn’t exactly the most secluded place in the world, but there was fresh air and green spaces—exactly what I needed after being stuck inside.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re teasing me,” I said.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a smirk. “At least, not teasing you like that.”

  My pussy tingled at his words. That had been one of the few nice things about being stuck in here—Garrett and I had barely been able to keep our hands off one another. We’d been sharing his bed, and making love right before sleep and first thing waking up had become something of a routine.

  “I think you know by now what kind of teasing I like,” I said.

  “Very much so,” he said.

  The cocky half-smile playing on his lips made me consider making my way over to his couch, crawling on his lap, and riding him hard. My pussy clenched at the idea.

  But as nice as that sounded, getting outdoors was too good to pass up.

  “No evading the question,” I said. “Are you actually considering taking me out of here?”

  “I’m considering it,” he said.

  I got up and slipped onto the couch next to him. My arm moved around his broad shoulders as I pulled him close. “Think about it,” I said. “You and me in the park, the sun warm, the leaves rustling gently in the wind, maybe a little something to snack on…”

  The look on his face suggested that he knew exactly what he wanted to snack on.

  “I suppose it couldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he said. “The rest of the team’s been watching the apartment and haven’t gotten any sign that they know we’re here.”

  Then a pensive expression flashed on his features.

  “Something else on your mind?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just trying to get all the angles worked out.”

  Something told me that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. But I’d been at his side for long enough by this point to know that there was plenty to the job that I didn’t know about, plenty of behind-the-scenes stuff that it didn’t make sense for me to question.

  He knew how to do his job, and I had to trust him.

  “How about this,” he said. “You go to the kitchen and put together a little something for us to eat.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Like a picnic?”

  “Sure,” he said, matching my smile. “Like a picnic. And while you’re doing that, I’ll check in with the crew and make sure that they’ll be at the ready if anything were to go down. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great,” I said.

  “Then let’s do it.”

  I hopped off the couch, practically bounding over to the kitchen. I went through the fridge, noticing right away that the foods left inside were very protein-heavy, to say the least. I’d already gone through all the fruits and veggies.

  “You got anything in here that’s not meat?” I asked.

  “Why?” he called from down the hall. “Too good for steak?”

  “Maybe we should stop at the grocery on our way back.”

  I smiled as I shook my head and turned my attention back to the food. I wasn’t much of a cook, but putting together a simple lunch was something I felt more than capable of. I began snatching out meats and cheese and the remaining veggies, and even found some low-carb wraps I’d overlooked in the back.

  “Damn,” Garrett said, stepping back into the kitchen and taking a look over what I’d put together. “That looks pretty darn good.”

  “I’ve got some Swiss and roast beef wraps with horseradish,” I said, presenting the food. “Some diced fruit on the side, and some broccoli florets for something to munch on.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “I checked with the guys, and they’re ready. But I told Kate to hang back.”

  “Is that right?” I asked, a little surprised, wondering if he’d somehow read my mind about taking the train into the city. “I hope you’ve got your metro card.”

  “Nah,” he said. “You’re not the only one who’s been missing certain things.”

  “Now what does that mean?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Grab all the grub and follow me,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

  I put everything together in a nearby canvas bag, threw it over my shoulder, and followed Garrett out of his apartment. It had only been a few days si
nce I’d come here, but stepping out of his place felt as though I was breathing free air for the first time in years.

  We made our way over to the nearby elevator, and Garrett hit the button labeled “G.” The elevator descended, and the doors soon opened up to the cool air of a garage. There was a handful of very expensive luxury cars parked here and there.

  “Nice,” I said, resisting the urge to drag my fingertips across the smooth, silver hood of a nearby Aston Martin. “One of these yours?”

  “That Aston you’re eyeballing,” he said. “But that’s not what I had in mind today.”

  I followed him through the garage, the two of us soon coming upon a gorgeous motorcycle. The chrome was polished and beautiful, and the dark green paint job as smooth and enticing as candy.

  “This is a Bonneville?” I asked, stepping over to it.

  Garrett flashed me a surprised glance.

  “What?” I asked. “Surprised that I know anything about bikes?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

  “I’ve seen a few in the circles I run in,” I said. “Always thought it’d be cool to have one. This the one-two-hundred CC?”

  Now he looked very impressed. “A girl who knows her bikes,” he said. “As if you couldn’t be any more appealing.”

  “About as much as I can know without actually having been on one,” I said as I made a slow circle around it.

  “Well,” he said. “Time to change that.”

  He took a set of keys out of the pocket of his leather jacket, climbed on the bike, and started the engine. The bike growled to life, the purring of the motor just about the sexiest thing I could imagine.

  I hopped on the back and wrapped my arms around Garrett, the leather from his jacket cool against the bare skin of my arms. Garrett reached into the storage compartment, took out a helmet, and handed it to me.

  “What about you?” I asked, taking the helmet.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, pulling out another and grinning. “I’m willing to bend a few laws, but I’d never risk my bike license.”

  I plopped the helmet on, adjusted it, and snapped the fasteners. Garrett gave me a nod, and I returned it, signaling that I was ready to go. He gunned the engine and we were off.