“More fool you,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “Should have known better if you planned on following a guy like me around like a bad fucking smell. Where the hell is she?”
“She?” The dark-haired guy frowns as he removes the safety from his handgun. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“Lowell.” It’s worth a shot. If I see one flicker of recognition on the guy, I’ll know he’s acting with Denise.
“I don’t know any Lowell, Mr. Mayfair. The only woman I know in town is that hot piece of ass girlfriend of yours. What’s she called again? Sarah? No, that’s it. Sloane.”
I say nothing. I don’t want to lose my cool too soon. If he mentions Sloane one more time, I won’t be able to help myself, but in the meantime I need to figure out what the fuck is going on. “Why the fuck are you following me?” I snarl.
The guy shrugs, the hand that’s holding his gun wavering as he makes a disinterested pout. “Just doing what I’m told, I’m afraid. I’ve come a long way to see you, Mr. Mayfair.”
“I’m a very busy man. You should have made an appointment.”
“I would have, but I don’t like your secretary too much. A little too…masculine for my liking. I prefer them to be a little leggier. Big boobs. No predisposition to murder anyone who happens to show up on their doorstep without an invitation.”
“What can I say? Michael knows who I have time for and who I don’t. He’s very good at his job.”
“And I am good at mine.”
I detect the clipped cadence of his speech and the hint of an accent—a Bronx or Brooklyn twang that tells me this guy isn’t from here. At best guess, he’s a New Yorker. He’s a little far from home if that’s the case. I smile, the right side of my mouth twisting upward as I scan him for further details that might tell me exactly where he’s come from and what his plans are here. He must want violence. No one in their right minds would track me down and take me on if they just wanted to hang out. The guy brushes back his hair, flattening down the section that’s escaped the oil slick product he has in there, and is hanging down into his face.
“Gonna introduce yourself?” I ask.
“My name’s Milo Barbieri. I doubt you’ve heard of me.” He says this like it’s a joke, though, and I obviously must know exactly who he is. I’ve heard the last name, of course, but Milo? He’s not one of Roberto’s sons. Not even a nephew. He must be a distant relative or something. Someone low ranking enough that they’ve had to make the trip across the county to see little ol’ me. I’m fucking flattered.
“You hide behind those shades all day?” I snap. I want to get a proper look at this asshole.
“Only when the sun’s out,” he replies. “Don’t worry. If you’re wondering what kind of guy I am, I can give you a brief rundown and we can dispense with the posturing. I’m one of the bad guys. I steal money from old ladies. I’ve killed a bunch of people. I’ve been in jail more times than I can count. What about you, Mr. Mayfair? You’re the same as me, no?”
“Maybe once upon a time. Not anymore.”
The guy with the gun looks a little saddened. “So the legends of the infamous Zeth Mayfair are all untrue. I have to say, that’s a little disappointing. I thought I might get to have a little fun with you while I was out here. Thought maybe we could tear it up, raise some hell. I can see I was wrong.”
This guy is testing my patience. He’s incompetent as fuck—I could rush him and take that weapon from him any second and he wouldn’t see me coming. Some men think they’re in charge because they’re holding a weapon, the same way some men think they get to fuck because they have their dicks in their hands. They don’t seem to realize that without pulling the trigger, in both situations their posturing is nothing more than masturbation. “Just get on with it,” I growl. “Why the fuck are you here?” I already know he’s organized crime. Disorganized crime, more like. I just need to hear him say it.
“My boss sent me to see if you’ve had time to reconsider his offer, Mr. Mayfair,” he informs me.
“And your boss would be the Butcher, of course?”
“Correct. He called you personally not too long ago, offering to form an allegiance with you. You were very rude to him, Mr. Mayfair. Very rude indeed.”
“Apologies,” I say, my voice thick with sarcasm. “But as you can imagine, I don’t like being threatened.”
“Mr. Barbieri didn’t threaten you, Zeth. He merely asked you to join forces with him. He offered you quite a sweet deal, if I recall correctly. All of Seattle in return for your obedience. That’s more than he’s ever offered anyone else.”