When I walk into The Oakes, the first thing I notice is how empty the place is. It’s never totally busy, but there are always people linking the bar, waiting for drinks or a conversation, and you can always find couples or single people eating and drinking at the high-top tables. Tonight, though? The bars’ been reserved for the large party coming in later, and right now it’s totally empty.
Bennett moves around the bar when he sees me walk in, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He ducks his head low when we’re only half a foot apart. “You sure you want to do this?”
Imitating his casual stance, I give one nod. “Damn sure.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You got guys outside?”
I answer him with a smirk. “I’ve got one guy outside, my teammate Grisham Abbott. If I need him to sneak up in here, he’s the best one for that. We call him Ghost for a reason. He also helped me plan this little meeting in a pinch this week. But other than him, I’ve got one genius little hacker out there, a woman we call Viper.”
Bennett chuckles. “Don’t think I’d want to meet her unless I’m packing.”
“She’s dangerous, but not in that way. She’s on the communications tonight, making sure everything goes smoothly with the camera Teague fitted me with. She’ll make sure she and the rest of the guys back at HQ can hear and see everything going on here tonight. We might get lucky, might not have to insert ourselves into the Margiano family organization at all.”
Bennett’s mouth curls with disgust. “Still can’t believe Mick mixed his father’s business up in all that bullshit. Mick Senior ran this place clean for thirty years, despite his brother-in-law’s bullying to let him have a piece of it. All the bastard wanted was another place to clean his dirty money, another back room to make his filthy deals. Now he’ll have it.”
I didn’t lie to Olive earlier, I just couldn’t include the part about Night Eagle performing an operation. Jeremy, as much as he wanted to have my six tonight, was needed to stay with Olive. I needed him to make sure she was safe while I’m dealing with Mick. If I have any doubt that she’s okay, I won’t be able to do my job. And the truth is, this thing with Mick Oakes is about more than what he’s done to my Red. Hopefully tonight we can take him and his uncle’s organization down in one fell swoop, and I’m determined to get it done.
Bennett slaps my back and then turns, mumbling under his breath, “I’m going to have to find a new place to work once this shit is all over.”
I follow him and pull out a barstool. I know in my gut that at some point, Mick will show up here.
Ordering club soda in a Scotch glass, I sit and sip the drink slowly, keeping my eyes and ears open as I do.
“Been turning people away tonight,” Bennett says. “As casually as I can. I even called and canceled on the party. Not that I told Oakes that. I don’t need innocents in here when shit goes down.”
I nod. “Good plan.”
“Your girl safe tonight?” Bennett’s eyes go sympathetic. “And how’s she healing up?”
My girl. Maybe I haven’t said the words aloud to anyone else yet but damn if it doesn’t feel really good twisting around in my brain. I told her she was mine, didn’t I?
“She’s good. And she’s with Teague tonight. He’s her brother-in-law, and the only one I trust to keep her safe.”
Bennett lifts his chin in understanding and wipes down a spot on the bar.
I’d say it takes about half an hour for the bastard to stroll in through the back door like he owns the place. Bennett goes stiff, because he knows Mick Oakes actually does own it, or might as well, and my blood immediately starts to burn, thinking about what could have happened to Olive when Mick forced us off the bridge.
Mick stops short when he sees me, like he’s not expecting me to be here. Rising from the barstool and trying to relax my fingers from the fists they automatically formed, my lips thin out into a scowl. “You look surprised to see me.”
One hand goes behind his back, where I know he keeps his gun inside his waistband. He always needs his security blanket. Fucking pussy. My scowl turns upward into a knowing smirk.
Once he’s reassured that his gun is in place, he steps forward with a cautious expression. “No, not really. But it doesn’t matter, either way. I am surprised you didn’t bring your whore with you.”
The word whore in reference to Olive nearly makes me lose my shit. She’s not that, she never has been. And this man, the one who once said he cared about her, who apparently wants her back, isn’t worthy to breathe the same air she does. And he won’t, not ever again. “She prefers not to be anywhere near you, Oakes. Especially after what you did.”
He leans against the end of the bar, and I can see the anger flash in his eyes before he responds. “What I did? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did hear that you and the lady were in an unfortunate traffic accident last week, though. She okay?”
He seems almost genuine in asking if Olive is okay, which is complete bullshit. “Let’s not play games here, all right? We both know you had a part in that accident. And you know what? If it was just me, I wouldn’t waste my time on you. But this is about her, and I’m not going to let you hurt her again.”
He pushes off the bar and crosses over to me. “You’re just a temporary distraction for her. She doesn’t belong to you, Shaw.”
I lift my chin. Olive does belong to me, but not in the way he thinks. He thinks of her as something material to possess. I think of her as something precious to protect. She belongs to me because she wants to. Not because I’m forcing her to stay.
But Mick Oakes won’t understand that, so I don’t bother to tell him.
“If you want her so bad, why would you put a hit out on her?” My tone is even, but all I really want to do is wipe the stupid expression off his face.
Mick’s face fills with rage. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Is that what she thinks?”
I’m filled with confusion, but I merely quirk a brow. “Isn’t that what you did?”
Mick glances behind him, like someone could be watching, before turning back to me and licking his lips. “I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt her. That shit doesn’t even make sense.”
Stepping closer, my eyes narrow and my jaw clenches so tight my back teeth snap together. “Then who would?”
Mick goes rigid. His eyes wild, he rolls them toward the ceiling like he’s trying to solve some kind of puzzle.
When he finally speaks, it’s like someone tosses a bucket of ice-cold water all over me.
“Dead girls don’t talk,” he whispers.
I move before I have a plan, shoving barstools out of my way and flying at him like a fucking rocket. Grabbing his collar, I shove him up against the dull wooden bar. Drawing my gun, I cock it and press the cold metal against his temple. My voice goes low and very, very dangerous.
“What the fuck did you just say?”