Too Late

I’m still getting to know my newest guy, Carter. Most people are transparent, but he’s like a muddy fucking river. Most people, especially the ones who work for me, kiss my ass because they know what a fucking good thing it is to be able to fit inside my back pocket.

Carter is different. He doesn’t seem to care one way or another. It’s his indifference that unnerves me. He reminds me of myself a little, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. There’s only room for one me.

My oldest guy, Jon, is really beginning to get sloppy. He was once my right-hand man, but lately he’s become my fucking Achilles’ heel.

Which brings me back to my initial point.

If it doesn’t benefit you, it shouldn’t fucking matter to you.

I’m struggling to see how Jon benefits me anymore. He seems to just stir up bullshit wherever he goes. Last week he lost one of my biggest clients because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants when it came to the guy’s wife. Even I know how to draw the line between my dick and my wallet.

Unlike Jon, Carter is a benefit. He’s a good translator, he’s quiet, he shows up where he needs to be and does what I need him to do. Which is the only reason I haven’t gotten rid of him yet, despite my suspicions about him. He’s not excess yet.

Jon, though. Jon is becoming dead weight.

But Jon also knows too much, which poses an even bigger problem.

For Jon. Not for me.

Aside from the business, I’ve cut all the other excess out of my life. Other than Sloan. She’s far from excess, though. If I had to compare her to a drug, Sloan would be heroin. Heroin is nice. Heroin makes you mellow. As long as you have it in good supply, heroin would be something you could happily inject every day for the rest of your life.

Maybe it’s weird to compare people to drugs, but when drugs are all you know, it’s normal.

Jon would be meth. He’s way too cocky, talks too much, painful at times. Real fucking painful.

Dalton would be coke. Sociable, friendly, makes you want to do more coke. I like coke.

Carter would be...

What would Carter be?

I don’t think I know Carter well enough to know which drug he resembles. But for about two minutes last night when I thought Sloan said his goddamn name, Carter was the motherfucking overdose.

But she didn’t say his name. She’s never even spoken to the guy as far as I know. And if he’s smart, that means he’s never spoken to her beyond their introduction in the kitchen.

But soon, I won’t have to worry about the guys around here because she won’t live in this house anymore. She’ll be in our house.

Shit.

Fuck!

I was supposed to buy the fucking ring today. I knew I was forgetting something.

I go to my closet to get dressed. I debate pulling out the Armani. You know—special day and shit. Instead I grab a dark blue button-up shirt I know Sloan likes and pair it with slacks. It really doesn’t matter what I pick out of the closet, it’s all fucking spectacular. I’ve always dressed for the level of respect I want to receive.

And no, my fucking father didn’t teach me that one. He’d have probably made it a lot longer in the outside world had he not dressed like the fucking bum that he was.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs and glance in the kitchen, I see Jon standing at the sink with his back to me, holding a bag of ice to the side of his head.

“What happened to you?”

He turns around, and the whole fucking right side of his face is black and blue. “Christ, man. Who the hell did you fuck over?”

Jon drops the bag of ice in the sink. “No one important.”

I walk into the kitchen. His face is even worse up close. And if he thinks he’s not about to tell me who fucked him up, he’s wrong. If he lost us another job, the left side of his face will look a whole lot worse than his right. I grab my keys off the counter and ask him again. “Who the fuck did that to you, Jon?”

He pops his jaw and looks away from me. “Some asshole caught me with his girl last night. Took me off guard. It looks worse than it was.”

Fucking idiot. I laugh. “No, I’m sure it looks just as bad as it was.” I walk to the pantry and check the alcohol stock. It’s empty, as usual. I slam the pantry door. “We’re celebrating tonight. Need you to stock up today. I have to run an errand.”

Jon nods. “Special occasion?”

“Yep. Got engaged. Make it classy. None of the cheap shit.” I head toward the front door and I hear Jon laugh. When I turn around, the fucker is still smiling. “Something funny?” I ask, walking back into the kitchen.

He shakes his head. “Is there anything not funny about you getting married, Asa?”

I laugh. And then I fuck up the left side of his face.

Fucking excess.





I make it to my car in the parking lot. Somehow. I grip the steering wheel and lean my head back.

I have no idea where the line is drawn now, it’s so fucking blurred. I’m trying to do the job I’m here to do, but at the same time Sloan is making me question whether this is really the life I want at all. I have no idea if I was Carter just now or if that was all Luke. Luke is becoming Carter.

I’m pulling too much of myself into this job, but I have no idea how to not be myself when I’m with her. All the things I want to say to her. The things I wish I could do to her. The truth I wish I could tell her.

If I told her the truth about who I am and what I’m here to do, though, I’d be risking everything. My life. Ryan’s life. Possibly her life. The less she knows, the better.

I press my forehead against the steering wheel and try to foresee the inevitable shitstorm that’s coming our way.

I want to be with her. I want to be with her as Luke. But that can’t happen until we have enough on Asa to put him away for good. And we won’t be able to put him away for good until he slips up. He’s careful right now. He’s smarter than I initially thought.

But the more time it takes to get where we need to be in this investigation, the more danger Sloan is in. And knowing what I know now about Asa, leaving him is the worst thing she could do. There’s no way he’d let her leave peacefully. He’d hurt her. And I wouldn’t put it past him to hurt her brother, too.

She’s stuck until he’s gone, and that could be months.

I lean back in my seat again and pick up my phone. As if I’m being punked, I have two texts from Asa.



Asa: Where are you?

Asa: Meet me for lunch at noon. Peralta’s. I’m fucking hungry.



I stare at the texts for several seconds. This is out of character for him. He doesn’t text on his regular phone when it has to do with a job, so...he literally just wants lunch?



Me: Be there in ten.





Twelve minutes later I’m weaving my way through the restaurant to where Asa is seated. He’s staring down at his phone when I take my seat.

“Hey,” he says, not even glancing up. He finishes the text and then sets his phone aside. “You busy tonight?” he asks.

I shake my head and pick up the menu. “Nope. Why?”

I look over the menu, but I don’t have to make eye contact to see that he’s smiling. He reaches behind him and then sets something on the table. I lower the menu and my eyes land on a box.

A jewelry box.

What the fuck?

He opens it and holds it out for me to take. I stare down at the ring, the dread making my skin itch. He’s proposing?

I try not to laugh. He’s fucking delusional if he thinks she’s going to agree to this. He also doesn’t know Sloan as well as he thinks he does, because this ring is nothing like Sloan. This ring is gaudy and showy. She’ll fucking hate it.

“You’re proposing?” I hand him back the box and pick up my menu again like I’m not really interested.

“No, I did that already. Tonight’s the celebration.”

My eyes flick away from the menu and straight to his. “She said yes?” I had no idea nods could be cocky until just now. I force myself to smile. “Congrats, man. She seems like a keeper.”

Why did she not mention this to me this morning? Why would she agree to marry him? I guess she feels trapped. She can’t very well say no to Asa with the position she’s in. Agreeing to it was the safe thing to do, even though it makes me sick for her.

I just don’t know why she didn’t warn me.

He puts the box back in his coat pocket. “She is a keeper. She’s heroin.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Heroin?”

He shakes off my question and calls over the waiter. “I want a beer. Whatever you have on tap. And a cheeseburger, all the way.”

The waiter looks at me. “Same,” I say.

We hand over the menus and I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. It’s probably Dalton. I texted him on the way here to let him know I was having lunch with Asa. I have no idea what this lunch is about, but I want to make sure the team knows where I am. Especially after Sloan said my name in her sleep. I half expected my agreeing to this lunch was a suicide mission.

I take a sip of the water already sitting on the table. “So when’s the big day?”

Asa shrugs. “No idea. Soon. I want to get her out of that fucking house before she gets hurt. I don’t trust a single goddamn person around her.”

How thoughtful of him. He’s about a day late, though, but I’m sure Jon failed to tell him that.