“Which makes you waking me up that much worse.”
“You will find this interesting.”
I tossed back most of the bourbon I’d poured and took a slow breath.
“Oooh. That’s the good stuff.” Lance opened a cabinet and got himself a glass, but I pushed the bottle out of the way as he reached for it. “No way in hell am I sharing this with you. Grab a beer from the fridge if you’re thirsty.”
He huffed, ignoring me as he opened my liquor cabinet and pulled out a bourbon that was quite spectacular but not as fine as what I was drinking. He poured himself a glass, glared at me, and downed it in one go.
He grinned as he wiped his mouth. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Unless you came here hoping to die, you better tell me what you have to say, then get the fuck out.”
“Charles Landry was vocally opposed to the family getting in with these gunrunners. Likely that’s why he was shot the other night. Word on the street is that Clark is in debt to the weapon’s dealers and that’s why he has to move their product for them.”
“That’s very significant news, but there was no reason it couldn’t have waited until a decent hour. You’re telling me this now because…”
Lance rolled his eyes. “What does it take to impress you? I thought you’d be intrigued.”
“I am, though I could give the information better consideration if I’d had a few more hours of sleep.” As annoying as he was, his enthusiasm was somewhat endearing. More so when it wasn’t four in the morning. “It is very good information. We need to figure out exactly who Clark owes and why.”
“Agreed.”
“What do we know about Charles? Do you think Clark set him up?”
“No, I think the dumbass confronted the gunrunner and said they weren’t going to do the work.”
“The Landrys really don’t have a lick of sense, do they?”
Lance laughed. “Hell no, and that’s why we’re going to crush them.”
18
Henri
I woke to the feeling of someone touching my leg, then a finger poked my calf. At first, I thought I was asleep on the couch in my cousin’s apartment, but I quickly realized the mattress and covers were much too soft. I was at Remington’s house, but why was he poking my leg?
“What are you…?” I turned over and saw a small monkey in a pink t-shirt sitting on my bed. I scrambled up and yanked the sheet over me.
“What… Where did you come from?” Was I actually expecting the monkey to answer? I’m not sure it would weird me out anymore than him being there in the bed with me.
The creature studied me, then made some tutting sounds and jumped up and down.
“What have you done with Remington?”
He looked at me and grew more insistent with his bouncing as he pointed toward the door.
“He went out the door?”
I wasn’t sure why I thought the monkey understood me, but I did.
Surely Remington hadn’t been hiding this little guy from me all this time. If he had a pet, I’d know by now, wouldn’t I?
I really couldn’t see Remington having a pet monkey. The animal must’ve escaped from somewhere and gotten in. Was there an open window? I didn’t think Remington would do anything that compromised his security like that.
I slid from the bed, holding the sheet against me as if I didn’t want the monkey to see me naked.
I fumbled around in the drawers where Remington had insisted I place the clothes he’d bought me, found a pair of pajama pants, and pulled them on. I grabbed a t-shirt as the monkey bounced up and down on the bed. I hoped he’d follow me. I didn’t want to leave him there alone.
“Do you know where Remington is?” I asked the little creature.
He danced around excitedly, then hopped off the bed and skittered away down the stairs. I followed him. As I did, I heard voices coming from the kitchen. That meant Remington wasn’t alone. I almost turned around and headed back to the bedroom, but I had to know why there was a monkey in the house.
Glad I’d gotten fully dressed, I moved cautiously down the steps toward the kitchen.
“Who’s there?” I didn’t recognize the man’s voice. A second later, a man who looked a lot like Remington, though shorter and stockier, stepped from the kitchen and pointed a gun at me.
The monkey danced around, jumping up and down between us.
“Move, Tony,” the man ordered.
Did the monkey belong to him? I raised my hands in surrender. “I… I… Please don’t shoot. Who are you?”
Remington stepped into the hall, his face dark with anger. “Lance, put the gun down now!”
Lance kept the gun trained on me and looked over his shoulder. “You telling me he’s with you?”
“Yes.” Remington put his hand on Lance’s arm, which only made me more nervous. Lance seemed very volatile.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had someone here?” he asked as he tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. Lance smiled and held out his hand as if he hadn’t just held me at gunpoint. “I’m Lance. It’s nice to meet you.”
I tentatively took his hand, but Remington growled. “Lancelot, keep your hands to yourself.”
Was his name seriously Lancelot, and did he really have a pet monkey? At least I assumed it was his pet as it was now perched on his shoulder. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by that.
Lance raised his brows and looked at Remington. “It’s like that, is it?”
“It’s not like anything but you touching my man after you tried to shoot him.”
“It was just a handshake. Jesus.”
I was also startled by the vehemence of Remington’s reaction, though maybe he was just wound up from the fact that Lance had been holding a gun on me. I was still more than a little shaken by that myself.
Remy closed his eyes and took a slow, careful breath. I watched his chest rise and
