Knowing Dion wanted to impress me made my stomach flutter.
But, he also thought PI work was something anyone with a pulse could do.
He’d underestimated our mark and was currently running full tilt to catch him. Keeping a steady pace behind, when he ran out of his loafers my own rhythm faltered because I was laughing too hard to keep going.
A few steps later he stumbles on the gravel and yells, “Fuck!”
“Keep going!” I encourage him.
Staring back at his shoes, it was obvious he was torn. Catching up to him I ask, “Why, are you having a moral dilemma right now?”
“Those are my favorite Ferragamos,” he groans and literally bit his lip.
“Is there really a choice here?”
“I paid six-fifty for those, Mercy.”
“So? Catching Nelson and getting that name pays three times that, Dion.”
“I hate running,” he mumbles.
“Listen, Father Time, you wanted to partner up. That means if the mark runs, you run. But, I’ll tell you what. Track Nelson down and I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes.”
“You’re buying me new Ferragamos for catching that asshole?”
“Ha,” I snort. “No. I’m buying you a nice pair of Pumas for catching that asshole.”
“Pumas?”
“Yeah. They retail for about seventy-five dollars and they stay on your feet.”
“Mercy…”
“Don’t make me race you, Dion.”
“God dammit, my leg is cramping,” he gripes. Then he takes a deep breath and says, “Two pairs of Pumas and that’s my final offer.”
“Deal.” When he takes off at a sprint, I call out, “You forgot your loafers!”
Dion’s response to that was flipping me off.
Giving him time to find Nelson, I went back into the bar for a quick shot before slowly walking back to my car.
When I heard gunfire, I forewent slow and hauled ass around the block to find a loaferless Dion behind a garbage can and Nelson behind a brick wall.
Men.
Running toward Nelson, his eyes went wide and it was clear he didn’t know what to do next. Here he had Dion with a gun and now some crazy woman running straight for him. “What the fuck!” he yells. “I don’t want to hurt you, lady!”
Holding both arms up, I plead innocent and ask, “Just need a name, Nelson.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend,” I smile trying to appear friendly.
“No friend of mine has hair like that.”
“Hey,” I whine. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“That asshole with you?” he nods over to Dion.
“He’s not an asshole,” I huff. “He’s my partner.”
“He also ain’t got on no shoes.”
“Yes well, he’s in training. Cut him some slack.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“I told you, I need a name.”
“I’ll give you a name,” he smiles showcasing his missing teeth. “Right after you suck my –”
Pulling the trigger, I cut off his ridiculous rant and can’t help but chuckle when he hits the pavement face first.
Wearing only one sock, Dion runs over and yells in my face, “Are you crazy?”
“Probably,” I shrug. “But I wasn’t the one hiding behind a garbage can without proper footwear so…”
“He was shooting at me!”
“And you have a gun, so why weren’t you shooting back?”
“He could have shot you, Mercy.”
“Please,” I snort. “I’m too cute to shoot.”
“I swear to God –” he begins to threaten.
“Get the name, Forrest Gump,” I wave him off. “I’ll be in the car.”
Ten minutes later and with bloody knuckles, Dion falls into the passenger seat giving me the name.
Messaging Pita to deliver the intel and the invoice, I ask Dion where to and when he says, “The den,” I don’t ask questions, I just drive.
Upon parking in the lot, he says nothing, just extends his hand to me and I take it. Hauling me into his arms, he guides us inside not bothering to speak to anyone. Passing the bar, he reaches over, grabs a bottle, and we continue our trek to his office. Slamming the door, he leans against his desk and mumbles, “Liquid courage,” then takes a pull.
Handing it to me, I do the same but hold onto it. “What’s going on in your head,” I ask cautiously.
“Not a fan of getting shot at, Mercy.”
“That’s understandable,” I agree. Gunfire was an ugly, normally rare, part of the job.
“Not a fan of seeing you in harm’s way either,” he says reaching for the bottle. “How much does that job like that pull in again?”
“Three grand.”
“You need to start charging more,” he decrees.
“Dion –”
“That name,” he says, pushing off his desk and prowling towards me. “The one we got shot at, almost killed for. That fucking name is trouble. That fucking name is a member here, Mercy.”
“Oops?”
“Not all of our members are on the up and up,” he explains. “And I don’t take issue with that as long as their shit stays off my property.”
“Wise,” I agree.
“Today, I brought the shit home with me.”
“How about this,” I say throwing my arms around his neck. “Tell him that for six grand, I’ll share with him the name of the man I left on the pavement.”
“The man we left on the pavement,” he corrects.
“He doesn’t know that Dion.”
“Fuck, you are a shifty little thing.”
“It’s a gift,” I smile then kiss his lips. “How’s your adrenaline?”
“Need to burn it off, Mercy,” he says gripping me tight.
“I’m right here,” I say running my tongue along his jaw.
“You mind rough?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist,” I say palming him through his pants.
And there is no use in denying that I loved the looks we received as Dion carried me upstairs.
The plus side was, without shoes, he got naked really really fast.