The Romeo Arrangement

Truck tires crunch over pavement now.

I wait, raking a hand over my face one more time, willing myself to be someone else as the truck grinds to a stop.

Setting the bottle down on a small table behind me, I turn and face destiny.

Stepping outside with a glare for the men in the trucks, I look like a man who’s just walked through a messy dog park with brand-new shoes.

“Private property, you idiots!” I shout. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. Buzz off.”

Grendal, wearing a black suit and chewing on a cigar, climbs out of the red truck.

He scowls at me and then at the house, head up, neck tense, every bit the vampire mobster Grace made him out to be. Those eyes are like whorls of dark ink, portals to some scary, ruthless place.

His stance, the way he holds his arms out, tells me he works out.

I keep my shoulders slouched, my knees slightly bent, hoping he’ll think my good looks come from stylists and yoga classes. Not hard muscle earned in rivers of sweat.

Jackknife Pete climbs out of the green truck behind him. He’s wearing a suit jacket, too, leering at me instantly with that piggish tattooed face of his.

Interesting. Seems I’m not the only actor here.

They’re playing their parts well, I’ll give them that. Trying to flex on my turf like real high rollers.

“You again?” I point to Jackknife. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought I kicked your ass at the Bobcat back in the winter.”

“Watch your tone, Hollywood,” Grendal says coldly. His voice is charred but smooth, every word clipped, pointed, and fired with intent. “Nobody disrespects my men. I don’t care how famous you are, pretty boy. That’s one reason I came all the way here today.”

“Do I know you?” I grumble with a shrug.

Facing me again, he flips open his jacket, showing a gun holstered near his belt. “A friend of a friend. I wish we’d met sooner. This could’ve all been much simpler.”

“Hell of an introduction, showing up at my place, flashing your toys.” Ignoring the gun, I nod at Pete and smile. “You some kind of real live terminator or do you just play one? Who put you up to this shit? I bet it was Bebe, this is just the kind of thing she’d pull at my own engagement party to—”

“Enough,” he barks, and the other three men at his sides draw their guns.

Now we’re having fun.

I glance up at the highest point of my roof where Grady hunkers down underneath a silvery grey cloak that matches the shingles, the long nose of his gun shifting.

He’s got Clay right in his sights.

I shift my weight and stiffen, acting like I’m intimidated, giving him a false sense of control.

“You’re not playing, are you? What’s this all about? We…we were supposed to meet at the hotel.” I throw my pitch a little higher, panic entering my voice.

Clay just nods, motions with two fingers, and three more hulking thugs step out of the green truck, guns drawn.

No sign of Nelson, which also means there’s more to his crew than these freaks here. He probably left one or two guys behind, guarding him elsewhere.

“What is it you want?” I ask again, staring back into his dead-eyed gaze.

But Clay looks past me then, toward the house, and gives me the words that ice my blood.

“About damn time. Hello, Gracie,” he snarls.

Grace?

Shit.

I spin toward the house and stifle a curse hanging in my throat.

I should’ve known she wouldn’t stay put. Jackie couldn’t hold her. Not when it’s Satan himself on our doorstep.

Think, dammit.

I’m desperate for ideas. Every hot second counts. I can’t let her get in the thick of it.

So I take a long deep breath and let go. Losing it comes all too naturally.

“Hey, Godfather man, what’s going on here?” I shout, then whistle so loud their ears twitch. “How do you know her?”

Grendal stares at me for a moment, dumbfounded, and shakes his head as a smile that’s too wide for his mouth stretches across his face.

So much for acting.

I don’t have to fake looking freaked. For Grace’s sake, I am.

“You really think you’re something, don’t you, Hollywood?” He looks back at Grace. “Looking for your daddy, Gracie? Come on over, let’s have a chat. It’s up to this playboy if you want to see Nelson alive again.”

I take a step forward, needing to work my way to Grace, but stop as half the men point a gun at her, and the rest turn on me.

Shit, shit. I wasn’t expecting this type of firepower.

I’m sure somewhere up there, Grady is just as confused, weighing his options. He’s only one man. He can’t shoot them all simultaneously. He might blast three or four guys at best before the others react.

If he has to pull the trigger on Clay, it might scatter them, but also might not buy us more than thirty seconds to run.