I snapped the phone closed and hurried to the club. It looked so normal during the day, like any other building aside from the sign with the silhouette of a naked woman in a martini glass. When I opened the door and stepped inside, the cleaning crew was hard at work. There was vacuuming to be done, tables and chairs to be sanitized, and a dancing stage to be polished to a glossy shine.
Strolling behind the bar, I took a look around. Deena dealt with the big stuff, like ordering and stocking the bar. It was my job to sort through the inventory and make sure everything was where it needed to be before we opened for business.
I’d just gotten started when my cell buzzed against my ass again. I rolled my eyes and pulled the phone out of my pocket. Once upon a time I didn’t own a cellular device. I preferred the old method of communication—the landline. It was nice when people couldn’t track me down with a push of a button. This time, there was no smile when I saw the screen.
Private Number.
Shit.
I was pretty sure this was another call I’d been expecting, although the timing was crap. So much for distracting myself with work. I popped the phone open and pressed it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“You inquired about an unmarked Browning?”
Yes, sir. The call I’d been waiting over a week for.
I’d only met Bane once—after I’d asked a few regulars at the shooting range about buying guns under the table. He hadn’t been friendly when he’d walked up, introduced himself and had gotten a smartass comment from me about his name. Nope, Bane was all business. And his name did suit him—as in the bane of someone’s existence. Not only was he big, he was friends with several thugs who practiced shooting at West Side. Thugs who happened to be gang members who pointed him in my direction. Dangerous, deadly, and likely to chew you up and spit you out. Bane in a nutshell.
Fortunately, despite the company he kept, he seemed to stay out of petty gang shit. He was a businessman first and foremost. Our initial meeting had clued me in to the fact that he didn’t want any trouble. He kept it clean, didn’t ask questions, and had remained professional. As if that wasn’t incentive enough to do business with him, he could also get anything a client requested if the price was right.
“That’s right, I did,” I said, hoping he’d finally come through.
“I have two.”
I stepped into the back and walked toward the cooler. “I’m definitely interested. I can meet you this afternoon.”
“Maybe I’ll have them then, maybe I won’t.”
I bit my tongue. It wouldn’t be in my best interest to call him an asshole. I hated being backed into a corner. “So it’s now or never?”
“I didn’t say that. You seem to think you’re my only client. Consider this a courtesy call.”
“Do you have silver ammunition?”
“Two boxes. Custom.”
Fuck. I needed a weapon with silver ammo. I might stop a vampire in its tracks or slow down a demon using blessed bullets, but silver was a guaranteed deal. I lifted my head, staring at the numerous liquor bottles on the shelves. It would take hours to get things straight. Deena would kill me if something was missing when she worked the bar tonight. What were the odds of her discovering I hadn’t done my job?
I cringed, thinking about my shitty fucking luck.
She’d find several things missing. Likely, I’d get a furious phone call about how hard I failed at life. Her wrath was something I’d have to face. There was no way I could pass up Bane’s offer. I needed weapons. Perhaps more than I needed my job. Ironically, I might not have to worry about demons. Deena could very well kill me before any hideous creatures got a chance.
“Where do you want me to meet you?”
“China Town. Behind Cleaver’s Pizza.”
The call ended, and I slid the phone into my pocket.
First I would meet with Bane and, hopefully, leave with a shiny new toy. Then I’d make a trip to my apartment to prepare for my stay at Disco’s. I’d purchased a suitcase that concealed my weapons shortly after our breakup. Even then, I’d known things were about to change. My morality wasn’t what it used to be. I had killed men in cold blood, depositing bullets right between their eyes, and I hadn’t so much as blinked.