Gift From The Bad Boy

The exhaustion hit me like a brick. Suddenly, I could barely keep my own eyes open. I slipped off my boots, wriggled out of the silly shirt I’d had on since the ceremony, and walked around to the other side of the bed. I crawled in beside her.

The heat of another person next to me was strange. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d let a woman spend the night, but suddenly this girl was two for two. Two nights together, two nights spent with skin against skin. I felt her hand brush mine and wrap softly around one of my fingers. I paused for a moment, but I didn’t move away.

For some reason, it felt right. Either way, it only took a moment before I was asleep, too.

# # #

When I woke up, the sun was piercing through the curtains and hitting me square in the face. I covered my eyes with one hand and groaned as I sat up straight in bed. It was already mid-morning. I couldn’t believe I’d slept so late. I didn’t even remember the last time I’d slept for this long straight through. Normally, I was lucky just to string a few hours together without the assistance of copious amounts of alcohol.

I felt movement next to me and looked over. I almost jumped out of bed. I’d completely forgotten about everything that had happened yesterday. Carmen was fast asleep next to me, still wearing her wedding dress. She looked less troubled than the night before, though. Her forehead had smoothed out and her mouth had relaxed.

I figured I’d let her sleep as much as she wanted. But I had to go to the clubhouse. There was work to be done. Finding a pen and scrap of an old receipt in the drawer of the bedside table, I scribbled a quick note and left it next to the alarm clock. Then I swapped out the suit pants for my black jeans and pulled a t-shirt over my head. I grabbed my leather jacket and my keys and swept out the door.

The ride to the clubhouse was quick. I’d picked an apartment just a few blocks away since I knew I’d be shuttling back and forth a lot. I hadn’t wanted to give up my room at the Dark Knights’ headquarters, but it wasn’t a good idea to have an old lady hanging around while I was trying to conduct business. Better to have her stashed away nearby. Close enough to keep an eye on but far enough away to keep her removed from some of the nastier things that on occasion happened under this roof.

Jay was smoking out front as I approached. I parked my bike just inside the gate and walked up to him.

“Morning, Jay. How’s it hangin’?”

“Low and to the left,” he replied without smiling.

“You should take that comedy act of yours on the road. People pay big money to see a light-hearted guy like you.”

“That’s what they tell me, boss.” He took a drag and hooked a thumb behind him. “Someone’s waiting for you inside,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Wouldn’t say. He’s Russian, though.”

“Hmm. Guess I’d better go see what the commie bastard wants.”

“Vodka and a rifle, just like the rest of ’em.”

“Politically correct as always, Jay,” I said. He grunted in response as I walked inside.

The transition from the bright outdoors to the dark interior of the clubhouse took me a second to adjust to. When my eyes refocused, I saw the broad back and bald head of the man Jay had mentioned. It was only ten in the morning, and yet he had a murderer’s row of drained shot glasses in front of him. I saw Slick behind the bar give me a shoulder shrug as I took the seat next to the man.

“I’m Ben,” I said as I settled down in the stool.

“I know who you are,” the man replied in a light Eastern European accent.

“My men said you were looking for me.”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Ivan sent me.”

“What for?”

“He tells me to say to you that he was very sorry that he could not help you with your problems. Truly. He considers you a friend and ally.”

“Nice to know.”

“Ivan has many friends.”

“He’s a real social butterfly, that one, ain’t he?”

The man did not laugh. “Many friends,” he repeated. “He likes to help his friends.”

“Get to the point, buddy.”

He ignored me. “Ivan especially liked your man Olaf. He did not like to hear about what happened to him.”

“None of us liked what happened to him.”

“It is the kind of thing for which there should be revenge, no?”

My fists tightened on the bar top. “There would be. But we don’t know a damn thing about who did it or why. Don’t you think I’d like to get back at the bastard who killed one of my men?”