Shadow Of Pretense (Margot Harris 2)

“You know this isn’t my first time looking down the barrel of a gun.”

“If you don’t drop that piece, it’s going to be your last.”

The dead-eyed man in the blue sharkskin suit smiled, showing off his gold teeth, “It’s not the first time somebody has said that to me either.”

“Are you going to put the gun down or am I going to blow your head off?”

“Neither.”

“Neither?”

“Yeah, I’m not putting down the gun and you’re not going to blow my head off.”

“You’re awfully confident.”

“Comes from experience. Besides, you know why I’m here and you got the jump on me yet you still haven’t pulled the trigger. You know what that tells me?”

“That I’m a decent human being?”

The dead-eyed man laughed. “We both know that’s not true.”

“This is your last warning.”

“Good, this shit’s getting old,” the dead-eyed man in the sharkskin suit said as he raised the gun in his right hand.

A half a second later the sound of two guns being fired filled the air.

Chapter 1

“What are you doing here?”

Randy stopped before he reached her table, put up his hands, and said, “I come in peace.”

While he was doing that Mal came up behind him and put the business end of his gun behind Randy’s ear.

“What the Hell is this?” Randy asked.

“A precaution,” Margot told him.

Stan, the bartender and owner of Layla's West, looked over and saw Mal with his Glock pressed against the back of Randy’s head and made eye contact with Margot. She gave him a nod to tell him things were under control. She wasn’t sure she believed this was under control, but he seemed to. He went back to washing glasses.

“Precaution against what? I came here to hire you,” Randy told her.

“Is that so?”

“Do you have your thug boyfriend sneak up and put his gun on all your potential clients?”

“Only when they give me a fake name, and he’s not my boyfriend,” Margot told him. She didn’t mention that, since her last case, both she and Mal were a little jumpy. After the way things played out, it was a distinct possibility organized crime on both sides of the border might be looking to take them out.

“And I’m not a thug,” Mal added.

“Whatever you say, but this is a pretty messed up way to treat someone planning to pay you.”

“Paying me implies you have money.”

“I’ve got money.”

“You do? Last I checked, my sister was paying your bills but after you nearly fractured her orbital socket, I told you to leave her alone.”

“And I listened. Do you think I’d be here if Melanie and I were back together? My knee still hurts from that shit you did to me.”

“Should I shoot him or lower the gun?” Mal asked, “My arm’s getting tired.”

“He’s fine, I can take it from here.”

Mal lowered the gun and put it back behind his back, making sure the long shirt he was wearing covered it up before he went to the bar.

Randy took the seat across from her, “Do you always meet clients here?”

“I don’t have an office. I used to meet people at Lefty’s, but some things happened there.”

“I heard. This place isn’t bad. I’ve never been here.”

“Do the owner a favor and come back. If it closes down, I’m going to need to find a new bar.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Good. I’m curious, if you don’t have my sister's money, whose money do you have?”

“My mom’s.”

‘I’m not taking money you stole from your mom.”

“I didn’t steal it. I know you think I’m scum, but I wouldn’t do that. She gave it to me to hire you.”

“Okay, what does your mom want me to do?”

“Find her niece.”

“Okay, why isn’t she in here asking me herself?”