Black
It was a quarter to nine, and I sat in my office with Ginger, Jones, Lee, and Lana. Quill still had fifteen minutes, so I wasn’t pissed yet. Lee was by the window, his laptop open on the small glass table. Every so often, his eyes would lift and he watched Ginger and Jones, who were having a quiet conversation on my leather couch.
For the last year, Ginger had been put through some rigorous tests. Mace had found him pickpocketing on the streets, and he was really good according to Mace. At one point, he got caught and was able to knock the guy out with a jab to the side of his head and was gone before anyone knew who he was.
I’d offered Ginger the same offer I did to all of my people. Work for me and thrive. Don’t, and maybe someone finds out about you. It wasn’t the best tactic, but I’d built some amazingly loyal people from that proposal. I knew their passions and where they would fit in my organization. Ginger was quick, fast, and surprisingly lethal. The fact he was brilliant was a plus.
Looking at him, you wouldn’t think he was an assassin, and that was the best kind of killer. He had a shock of red hair, styled but short, and sometimes I saw him with glasses, but not always. His cinnamon freckles were almost as adorable as his childlike smile he gave most people. He was small and thin. Reminded me of Quill in that respect. Ginger loved his retro t-shirts with odd sayings or 80’s movie logos. He seemed to like music he deemed oldie, but made me wince thinking he thought Debbie Gibson was in that genre. He looked more like a geeky college student than a genius assassin.
Jones and he hit it off right away, and wasn’t that odd. Jones hated most everyone except Lee. Lee, who was giving those two a glare that screamed death. Not sure what was up there, but I made a note to talk with Lee later.
“He’s here,” Lana said as she put her phone away. The desk in the lobby always informed us when people were heading up. “I’ll meet him at the elevators and bring him here.”
“Thank you.” Once Lana left, I called Ginger’s name. “I’m going to be doing the talking here. Only speak when I tell you to. Quill is rattled enough, and I need him calm.”
“Sure thing,” Ginger said with a stupid smile.
“I just don’t think peach is the right color for you, Lana, especially in winter. Pastels are perfect in spring and summer. If you start wearing them now, people will be like, ‘oh, there’s Lana, the yearly Easter egg.’ You will kill a royal blue or dark red. Especially with that black hair of yours,” Quill said animatedly to Lana as he entered my office. She was hanging on his every word and… was she taking notes?
“Quill,” I said, interrupting their fashion conversation. He looked up, eyes wide as he surveyed the room filled with people. All but one he knew. “This is Ginger, he works for me. Have a seat.”
“Hey, Ginger, is that because of the hair or do you kill people with spice?” Quill winked and snapped, and while it was clever, I had no time for this.
“Um…” Ginger was at a loss, and wasn’t that typical Quill.
“We need to talk,” I stated, saving Ginger.
“Right.” Quill took a seat next to the couch but far enough from everyone. I noticed the only thing at his back was the bar, and he could see the whole room. That said more about Quill than many would observe.
“Ginger, here, did some work for me last night. I was looking for Bartholomew Sterling, Ronald’s father.”
“Why would you do that?” Quill snapped. “Leave it alone. Haven’t you caused me enough shit?” He quickly covered his mouth like he realized who he was talking to a little late.
“One, you don’t tell me what to do. Two, what I’ve done is help you climb out of the shithole you fell into. Three, I’m not sitting here asking you, I am telling you. You work for me. Ronald is interfering in my business. Having you laid up in a hospital room hindered a package getting where it had to go. Thank God, Lee was available. I make promises to very powerful people and the reason they come back time and time again is because I do not break them.” I recognized my voice was beginning to rise, something I tried very hard to keep in check. Quill had this way of enhancing all my emotions.
“I see,” Quill whispered. “It’s because my being in the hospital almost made you break a promise.” He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, and the sadness in his color-of-the-day brown eyes was prominent.
“What did you think this was about?” Jones scoffed.
“I didn’t ask to hear from you.” I shot a finger at Jones. “Let’s move on from this. Now, Quill, I wanted to talk to you after a conversation I had with Ronald at Quirks and Perks yesterday morning…”
“I know about it.” Quill sounded like a moody teenager, and if that didn’t shine a light on our age gap, nothing did.
“From the way my run in with him just went, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out that things are strained. I had hoped he got the message originally, but it’s quite clear he’s either obsessed with you or hates losing.” I watched Quill as I spoke, his face giving nothing away. He seemed bored.
“Ginger is going to tell us about what he found out about Bartholomew Sterling, and then I need to talk to you alone.” That got a reaction out of Quill, just a quirk of his lips. “Ginger?”
“Right. I was surprised to find Daddy Sterling had his itinerary on his website, so if you want him dead, it won’t be hard.” His nonchalant attitude reminded me so much of Jones, and when said man chuckled, I realized he must have thought the same thing. “Anyway. He’s not a perfect human being. Slimy, sort of, but he gives a lot to charity, and as I watched him in public at some gathering, he was charming his way through the crowd. I couldn’t stay long as I only got a few hours there. It was late when Jones told me to scope him out.” He scrolled on his phone. “He is going to a charity event tomorrow night at The Camille Hotel.”
Quill sat in his seat, rolling his eyes as Ginger spoke, and I had to interrupt Ginger to ask what his encounters with the father had been like.
“He’s a cocky asshole. Ronnie doesn’t have Bart’s finesse, but he’s just as awful as his son. Ronnie is the bull in the china shop, Bart’s the mouse.” Quill began picking at a white thread on his jeans. “I only met him a couple times.” The last sentence was a garble of words, but I made them out.
“Do you think he’s aware of what his son is about?” I asked, and Quill chuckled.
“He raised him. Of course, he knows.”
I scanned the room, taking in everyone’s faces. All likely thinking what I was. What would make father turn against son?
“Quill, you said Ronnie was a bull and his father was a mouse. Explain that,” Lee asked from his table by the window.
He shrugged. “Both cause as much damage; one is just sneakier than the other. Ronnie is open in his shittiness. Bart isn’t, he will nibble the cables. Ronnie tears through the electronics, you get me?”
“And would you say Ronnie’s public behavior would be angering to his father?” Lana asked, her eyes full of sorrow for Quill.
“Oh no,” Quill jolted up. “You’re going to try to turn them on each other? You high?”
“Something tells me Ronnie is only scared of one person, his father. I will do what I have to, to get rid of Ronnie. I would rather not kill him, just because it wouldn’t be good for business.” It wouldn’t be. Bartholomew was a saint in this town. Only because the people didn’t know the real him. So many wouldn’t stop until they found the monsters who killed his son. I didn’t need that kind of heat on me right now. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t if I couldn’t get Ronnie to back down. I’d killed many powerful figures, but they weren’t living in my town. It would be a challenge.
“Okay.” Quill’s tone was sarcastic. “I’ll just give Lana my info so you can order my tombstone now. If you wait a little and let me die on my birthday, you’ll save yourself some money.”
“So dramatic,” Jones grumbled.
“No!” Quill shouted. “You have no idea what you’re doing. Yeah, you kill the big baddies of the world, but did you ever stop and think about what Ronnie might do when backed against a wall? No, you didn’t. He may never touch me again, hell, he may even leave me alone, but he will watch me suffer.”
“Calm down, Quill.” Lana got up, walked over to him, and gently hugged him. “No one is going to hurt you anymore.” Her sharp gaze met mine over his shoulder. “Ever.” She was making him a promise I had to keep.
“Oh Lana,” Quill pulled back and kissed her forehead. “I like you. But you don’t understand what he can do to me.”
“Tell us, please?” she pleaded, but Quill just smiled softly and sat back down.
“I need you all to leave Quill and I alone,” I directed, never taking my eyes off him. Through my periphery, I saw them all go. Lana left last, closing the door quietly.
Quill sat, shoulders slumped, and the rest of him proved he was shattered. I had taken down bigger giants than the Sterlings. I knew people better than anyone else in the world. Quill wasn’t afraid of the Sterlings. Ronnie and the pain didn’t scare him. It was whatever knowledge Ronnie and his family harbored. I got up, the squeak of my chair making Quill flinch.
I sat on the couch Jones had vacated, as close to Quill as I could. His eyes were downcast, staring at his lap. He wasn’t crying, yet the despair was there.
“I need you to tell me everything, Quill. I can’t protect you if you don’t.”
He lifted his head and his eyes were like fire. “Protect me?” His laugh was humorless. “I never asked you to protect me. You’ve condemned me, Black.”
“To what?” My fingers itched to grab and shake him into telling me what he had locked up inside.
“The only thing that has the power to gut you like no other…” His sparkle seemed so dim as he whispered, “Family.”