Evan Arden: Otherwise Occupied Part 2

None of them looked unusually concerned about anything just Rinaldo.

"No, sir," I responded automatically. I gave Mario a nod but ignored Terry completely. I took a long breath in slowly and silently, hoping we weren't going to spend the entire afternoon reminding me of where I had f.u.c.ked up. I'd already paid my dues as far as I was concerned.

"Good to know because this next one's going to be a little more challenging." He dropped his a.s.s onto one of those big, leather executive chairs and leaned back.

"Whatever you need, sir."

"Show him the picture." He huffed a quiet breath through his nose and glanced away from the desk. He was annoyed with this person he wanted me to kill, no doubt about it.

Leone walked over and dropped a magazine on the desk in front of me. On the front page was a man I recognized immediately I'd seen him in at least a dozen Bruce Willis style action films.

"Brad Ashton," Jonathan said. "I saw him in that terrorist movie with the chick with the b.o.o.bs."

"Angelina Jolie," I reminded him.

"Yeah that one."

"He's got round the clock surveillance and never goes anywhere without a guard," Rinaldo said. "Paparazzi follow him everywhere, too. The guy is never alone. He even f.u.c.ks in pairs."

"Makes him harder to hit," Terry said.

Like I needed his f.u.c.king opinion.

"It's gotta be close," Rinaldo said as his eyes turned to me. "In his face, you know? Up close and personal."

"I'm a sniper, sir," I reminded him.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I shouldn't have said them. My eyes closed a little longer than a normal blink as I tried to reset and get my head back on straight. If I didn't, it was likely going to get knocked from my shoulders. There was no doubt that most of my work was from afar, but I had done plenty of hits up close and personal, too.

"Whatever, dude," Nick snickered.

Rinaldo glanced at him, and he replied with a toothy grin.

"You tellin' me you don't know how to shoot a handgun?" Rinaldo raised an eyebrow at me as he leaned forward a bit in the chair. "Because I happen to know you've done that once or twice before."

"No, sir," I responded. I hoped the tension I felt in my body wasn't outwardly visible. I didn't think it was I tended to stand up pretty straight anyway. I didn't miss Rinaldo's jab the reason I had been sent into temporary exile months ago had to do with putting someone down with my Beretta. Like Nick bringing it up wasn't bad enough.

I had never heard of James Carson prior to killing him, but he was apparently pretty important to his cousin, Miss Fiona Carson. When the wife wasn't around, Fiona happened to be sleeping with Gavino Greco, my boss's primary compet.i.tion. Her cousin had been a witness to an a.s.sa.s.sination where Rinaldo had ordered the hit, and I had made it happen. I hadn't known who the guy was; I only knew he had been behind the dumpster when I killed Robert Franco, the idiot who dared dip into Rinaldo's casino profits.

I thought I had cleaned up the scene, but it was a bigger mess than a witness, according to Rinaldo.

"I'll take care of it for ya, boss," Terry piped up. "I took care of plenty for ya while he was on vacation."

Vacation.

a.s.shole.

I was sorely tempted to show him just how accurate I was with a shorter-ranged firearm.

"That you did, Kramer," Rinaldo said with a nod. "That you did."

I stood there and watched the exchange in silence. Showing any kind of annoyance at this point wasn't going to get me very far. Rinaldo Moretti was watching me and watching me closely. I wasn't going to let that stupid little s.h.i.+t Terry get to me.

"So this one's mine," Terry said with a big, toothy grin on his face.

Rinaldo c.o.c.ked a half smile at the kid, who beamed back.

Idiot.

Nothing good ever came of that smile.

"Not this time," Moretti said. "I need Mister Arden for this one."

"I'm just as good as him," Terry hissed back. He started to say something else when Mario placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing him.

I tried not to smile as the boss turned back to me.

"The fact is," Rinaldo continued, "he knows I'm gunning for him. Anyone who knows I'm gunning for them knows they can't walk out into daylight, or they're gonna have a bullet in their brains. Now I have you to thank for that, and I'm grateful, but don't give me a line of bulls.h.i.+t. Let's be perfectly clear, now you are familiar with other firearms, are you not?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

"This needs to be done quick, easy, and quiet," he continued. "This isn't your usual where you don't give a f.u.c.k who sees you, Arden. Nothing can lead back to my organization. You got me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now you go collect your short-range, in-your-face weapon of choice and kill that motherf.u.c.ker."

"Yes, sir."

Everyone was dismissed from the office except for Nick and Mario. I tried to get the f.u.c.k out of the building before Terry could catch up with me, but it didn't work out that way. I maneuvered to get a bit ahead of Jonathan to put some pace between me and Terry, but Jonathan was a quick walker.

"You want me to help ya scope him out?" Terry asked as he ran up beside me. He reminded me of those hyper little terrier dogs, and I kind of wanted to kick him.

"No," I replied. I knew exactly where that would end the little f.u.c.k would either get in the way and screw it all up or take the actor guy out himself. Though it would ultimately p.i.s.s off Rinaldo because it wasn't Terry's a.s.signment, credit was credit.

Actually, he'd probably try to take me out first. The credit would be a lot higher then. Not only would he have eliminated the target, but he would have done it when I couldn't. Just taking me out would give him a reputation that wouldn't be easily matched.

"What the f.u.c.k is wrong with you, Arden?" he yapped.

"You're annoying," I replied.

"And you're an a.s.shole!"

"Whatever." I pa.s.sed Jonathan and shoved the door that led into the stairwell and began clomping down the stairs. As much as I wished Terry would stay where he was, I heard two sets of footsteps behind me.

"You think you can treat everyone like s.h.i.+t," Terry babbled.

"Just some," I countered.

"You think you're better than everyone else," he continued, "just cause you were all military hero and s.h.i.+t."

"Not a hero," I muttered under my breath. I quickened my pace as Jonathan moved in a little closer behind me separating me from the little s.h.i.+t trip-trapping down the stairs in my wake.

"Like it takes a hero to get himself captured."

I stopped in my tracks, just at the bottom of the second landing. Jonathan had to veer to the side to keep from running into me. I turned slowly, my narrowed eyes finding the smirking little f.u.c.ker standing just a few steps above me.

"Crack in that armor, hey Arden?"

"You shouldn't speak s.h.i.+t you know nothing about," I said. My hands were shaking a little but not enough that anyone would notice except for me. "Mention it again, and maybe I'll go dig a hole and show you what it was like."

Turning on my heel, I quickened my pace down the rest of the stairs.

"f.u.c.k you!" Terry called out as I clomped down the steps and out the back door with Jonathan still beside me. The heavy metal door slammed with a bang.

"You all right, brotha?" Jonathan asked as we walked across the parking lot to his white F150 Ford Pickup.

"I'm good," I replied. "Why?"

He furrowed his brow a bit, looked back towards the closed door, and then shrugged. He knew me pretty well and knew when to change the subject.

"Because since you got back, you've been a little off," he finally said as he pulled a pack of Marlboro's out of his s.h.i.+rt pocket and fished out a cigarette. He shoved it between his lips as he hunted around in his pants pocket for a lighter. "You were gone a while."

I just shrugged as I climbed into the pa.s.senger seat. Jonathan tossed his Luke Skywalker style hair out of his eyes as he maneuvered himself into the driver's side.

"I think that would drive me nuts," he said, "sitting in some piece of s.h.i.+t cabin for half a year by myself."

"It was just a little over three months," I corrected. "Not a half year. It wasn't that bad, and I had Odin with me."

"Still..." He whistled low and shook his head. "Three months without p.u.s.s.y would suck b.a.l.l.s."

I glanced sideways at him and raised my eyes at his choice of words.

"Just sayin' it would suck," he said with a shrug. He turned the key and rolled down his window to blow smoke back past his shoulder. Reaching forward, he fiddled around with the radio controls until he tuned it to a cla.s.sic rock station.

"Well, you know me," I said, "I always find a way to get s.h.i.+t done."

"You got blisters on your hand?" he snickered as he put the truck into reverse.

"Nope." The corners of my mouth turned up a bit as visions of that long, dark hair spread over the creamy skin of Lia Antonio's back filled my head. I could almost feel her p.u.s.s.y gripping my c.o.c.k as I thought about it.

Jonathan blew smoke out the open window, shoved the gear s.h.i.+ft back into park, and turned to look at me.

"No way," he exclaimed.

"What?" I asked.

"You were out in the middle of f.u.c.king nowhere and you still got laid?"

I smirked.

"Now that's custom!"

Jonathan had worked in an auto shop prior to his first stint in prison for dealing. He specialized in tricking out people's cars with all kinds of s.h.i.+t, so anything remotely out of the ordinary was always "custom." It was mostly his code word for anything he thought was worthy of his admiration.

"I need some deets, brotha!"

I rolled my eyes.

"You that interested in what my c.o.c.k does?" I asked.

"I just don't understand how you manage to get p.u.s.s.y to fall into your lap no matter where you go."

"It's a gift," I replied.

Jonathan shoved the truck back into gear and started backing out.

"So who was she?" he asked.

"Just some chick lost in the desert," I told him. "Her boyfriend, or whatever, was an a.s.shole and dropped her off on the road when they were fighting. She didn't have anywhere to go and it was getting late, so she spent the night riding my c.o.c.k. That's it."

"Custom."

"Worked for me." I leaned back and let the smoke from his cigarette waft around me. I didn't indulge anymore myself, but I liked getting some second-hand every once in a while. As much as Jon lit up, I probably smoked a couple cigarettes worth any given hour I was with him.

"How was she?"

"f.u.c.king fine!" I responded.

We both had a good laugh until Def Leppard started playing, and Jonathan quickly turned up the volume and started air jammin' at red lights. I stared out the window at the line of people waiting for Garrett's Popcorn and tried not to let thoughts of Lia invade my head too much. If I did, I'd start regretting s.h.i.+t, and I tried not to do that.

Jon followed me up to my apartment, and we immediately started researching Brad Ashton. There was so much s.h.i.+t on him, it was hard to separate the real stuff from the gossipy c.r.a.p, but we started with the basics.

He was twenty-nine years old, born in Australia, six feet tall, blond hair, and grey eyes. Though he made himself famous with action films, he had his start in the p.o.r.n industry, and I had to admit some of the footage made me feel a little uncomfortable.

Maybe it was because Jon was watching it with me.

"Do you really have to play more of that?" I asked as he flipped from a scene with one pair of writhing bodies on a bed to a video with two pairs.

"It's pretty good," Jonathan said. "Might have to download a full copy of this one."

I shook my head a little, but my mind was wondering about the possibility of Bridgett spending the night again. I must not have hated the p.o.r.n too much. I was going to have to take a little trip later.

I'm going to kill a guy I've watched f.u.c.k two sorority chicks and a frat boy.

Shaking my head again didn't seem to completely rid my mind of the thought, so I headed to the kitchen and popped open a couple of beers.

"Here's his schedule of appearances," Jon said as he yanked a piece of paper from my printer. "He'll be here in the city three times between now and February."