CHAPTER 2
Travis
I looked up from my whiskey glass, my cold blue eyes fixing the older businessman sitting opposite of me with an intense stare. “How much?” I said in a soft but deep monotone.
“You heard me. Listen, I’ve had a look at your previous work with the Savage Soldiers and I’ve spoken to your...references. I know this isn’t the type of contract you usually take. And honestly, I almost settled on your cousin, Tucker, for the job. I know he was a Savage Soldier too, and he also had a pretty damned good record. But he’s left this line of work entirely, I hear. Studying to be a lawyer or something, right? Anyway, maybe I’m being paranoid, but I can’t shake the feeling that the risk is greater than you or anyone else suspects. So I need someone to take this job seriously.”
I nodded. “Right. This isn’t simple babysitting or knocking some sense into some over-friendly jocks. I know, Phillip.”
My potential future employer flinched. “How the fuck…?” The older man leaned forward, his hand reaching for the panic button under his desk. “I never told you my name.”
I leaned back, trying to relax my muscular frame into as non-intimidating of a position as possible for someone standing 6’ 5” and weighing 260 lbs. “You don’t need to press that. I’m on your side. Plus, your name is on that certificate over there.” I gestured with my glass towards the faded yellowing certificate on the wall a good ten feet away.
If I was being completely honest—which I never was, especially when trying to impress or intimidate—my eyes weren’t that good. I’d heard of the heat this guy was facing through some old contacts. The sort of contacts you needed when you were a former soldier, ex-vigilante slash criminal-turned-gun for hire, mercenary, bodyguard. Hell, I’d do a dog protection service if the money was right.
I had even managed to find out his address and had a good idea of what his pretty daughter looked like from squinting at her almost-private social media pages. From what I could see, she was about an eight. Maybe a nine after a few drinks. I had fleetingly found myself wishing I was a few years younger, but immediately stopped those thoughts right in their tracks. I knew what happened when I got involved with women—trouble. So I vowed to keep this one strictly professional.
Besides, I knew this man’s daughter was probably way out of my league.
“Truth is, Phillip, I’m good. I’m really fucking good. That’s why I’m expensive, right?” I took another gulp of whiskey.
Nice stuff, I found myself thinking. If this is what he keeps in his office to offer thugs, I wonder what he keeps in his private collection? Probably fucking gold-plated bottles.
I leaned forward on my elbows, my t-shirt barely containing my bulging biceps and chest. I raised my left eyebrow, knowing it accentuated the scar running along it. “I know the heat you’ve been getting. I know the type of hardcore criminals who want in on what you develop. Those guys don’t fuck around. Good thing is, neither do I. I shoot first and ask questions later. And I ain’t bad in a fistfight either, meaning I ain’t never found no one who can beat me.”
I drained the rest of my whiskey and Phillip poured me another, his gaze never leaving my face. I knew he was either impressed, intimidated, or slightly jealous. Probably all three.
“Thanks,” I said, raising the glass. “Last one for me. If I drink more than three, bad shit seems to happen even if I ain’t looking for it.”
I took a smaller gulp and continued my sales pitch, not that it was needed. I just enjoyed attention—especially the kind this guy’s dolled-up secretary with the nice butt and tight top had given me in the waiting room. I wasn’t looking at her, but I knew she kept looking at me.
“So, let me backtrack some,” I continued. “I took the liberty of doing some research and called in some favors. I’m a step ahead of these bad guys. And let me tell you, nine out of ten of them won’t even come close ‘cause I still got favors I ain’t called in yet. I helped a lot of people out in the past, see?” I winked. “And I’ve done this shit before. Tangled with the sort of bad dudes breathing down your neck, and I won.”
Phillip averted his gaze, composing himself. “Very impressive,” he muttered.
Yet, my charm hadn’t worked long. He sat back up straight, resuming his businesslike demeanor more quickly than I’d expected. Clearly, he was tougher than he looked. But then again, you’d have to be to sit in an office all day, year after year.
“Like I said earlier, I did my research too. Not, uh, in the same way as you, but still. I thought you were good before you walked in here. Now I know you’re the man for the job.” He stood slowly and held his arm out, his palm slightly facing upward. Passive, but not to be ignored.
I stood with a motion that was particularly graceful for a big man who’d just had three whiskeys. As I towered over the businessman, I grabbed his hand firmly, but not in a bone-breaking way. “All right,” I said. “Consider me hired. Now, you probably don’t have me down as the type of guy, but I’m legit these days. So I’m gonna need a contract and 10% upfront. Expenses, right? Ain’t putting that shit on plastic.”
I gave him what likely appeared to be a smile, grimace, and smirk all in one, trying to break the ice but probably looking like I had indigestion. Smiling didn’t come easy for me since—not since my wife ran out with the Fed-Ex guy. Or milkman. The details didn’t matter much. Last I heard, he didn’t walk too good these days, whoever the fuck he was.
But it wasn’t time to dwell on the past.
“I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon to get the contract,” I said. “I don’t do snail mail, email, or text messages, for that matter. Like to stay under the radar. Makes my job a damn sight easier. I trust that’ll be enough time for your pretty secretary to type something up?”
Phillip laughed. “Her? I pay her to answer the phones, look pretty, and flirt with any old businessman who might be trouble. Works as well as you’d imagine. So no—I’ll do this one myself.”
I barked a short laugh. “Fair enough. ‘Least you know it’s done right the first time. I know exactly what you mean. Don’t get far in my line of work unless you trust number one, and those handful who have proved they ain’t either corrupt as fuck or morons. Those are the worst.”
He half turned on the way back to his desk, pausing to pass me a parting gaze. “You know what? I think our jobs might be more similar than you think. You just described high level corporate bullshit in one sentence! I’ll have to remember that line.” He sat back down in his plush leather armchair and nodded. “Until tomorrow, then.”
I nodded, understanding he meant, ‘Fuck off now, we’re done here.’
I left quietly, feeling the secretary’s gaze on me as I passed through the outer office. Probably a sight for sore eyes, all the stiff sleazy old business types that usually came through there.
I gave her something to look at, slowly walking past her, brushing my slick hair back with my left arm and flexing my bicep in the process. The sleeve of my tight black t-shirt ripped. I paused at the door on the way out, bending down to re-tie a shoelace which didn’t need retying.
After all, it would have been rude not to give her something to fantasize about later.