Page 48 of Ballistic

“No.”

“Where is it?” The glug in his throat chased the question as he downed a swill of his drink.

“Wyoming and West Chicago. You know that area?”

That growling noise rumbled in his chest, just like earlier. “Lovely area. Think you got, like, a one and ten chance of being a victim there, or something. I’ll check out the place tomorrow night.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No. Fuck, no. I don’t need another disaster.”

I suddenly regretted telling him the location, and as I closed up the stitch, I yanked a bit harder than I should’ve. “I’m going. End of story.”

On a grunt, he clenched his jaw at what must’ve been a painful pinch of his wound. “Good luck, then.”

Bastard. He knew I’d never get in without that damn tattoo. They didn’t take outsiders—not even girls stupid enough to stroll up. Only the ones brought in by known handlers were permitted there, as even the young ones could be pegged as a spy.

“You need my help as much as I need yours, baby. My way, or no way.”

Grinding my teeth together, I gave him a look that must’ve been about as threatening as his had been moments before, when I’d told him I’d gotten Ricky to talk—like he’d wanted to throttle the ever-loving shit out of something. “On one condition. You take Jasper somewhere and let me finish him off. He’s my kill. Understand?”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head, lifting his arm and twisting his body, examining my sewing work. “I don’t kill on hearsay, or rumor. ‘S’at whole innocent until proven guilty thing. You go after him on your own time. I just said I’d track him down for you.”

“Then, this is a waste of my time.” I snipped the thread and tossed the needle onto the counter beside me. “I’m not looking for a fucking hound dog.”

“If delivering this asshole to you is a death warrant, I’m not doing it. Not until I have proof he’s done something wrong.”

“Proof? What do you think this club is, Dax? A bunch of consenting adults engaging in harmless bondage? Every girl in that place was picked up off the streets, promised money, fame, a better life. They’re prisoners. You want proof? Step inside that club. You’ll find every reason you need to kill him yourself.”

“Cops should do their damn job and shut the place down, then.”

I rolled my eyes, and tore open a square of gauze, which I taped over the sewn wound. “Cops are some of their best customers. You shut one down, they open another. You might save a few girls, but you won’t save them all.”

“If I save one, it’s worth it.”

The implication in his voice, the heat of his gaze—both were extremely telling—but I wouldn’t let his sweetness touch me. Those kinds of feelings were liabilities for me. “That’s not how you play this game, Dax. You expose yourself early on, the game is over.” After all, stealing one of Tesarik’s girls was one thing, shutting down his livelihood would be another entirely. “Patience is the best strategy. Destroy them from the inside out.”

“Killing one man isn’t going to take down an entire organization, Nicoleta.”

“Depends on the man. You’re right. though. This one is personal.”

“I’ll check this place out. Alone. Christ, I’d need a goddamn leash to keep you out of trouble in a club like that.” Head tipped in study, he ran his thumb over the knot on my face, and I caught the flinch of his eyes. “I would’ve killed him, you know. Had there not been all those people. You’re not going with me, Nic. Not this time.”

I could see by his eyes he had no intentions of negotiating. “I hate you. Like, truly. If I could do this myself, I would.”

“But you can’t. Hate me all you want, little lynx. You need me. Say it.”

“I don’t need anyone. Least of all, you.”

He silently mouthed the words, you need me.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You’d love nothing more than to have me hanging off your big muscles, fawning over you like those strippers.”

He lowered his hand from my face and his lips stretched to a grin. “Ha! I knew you were jealous.”

“No. Slightly disgusted, but definitely not jealous.”

“Just try hanging off these muscles, baby.” Raising his arm, he flexed his tattooed bicep, and the thing popped like a ball of iron trapped beneath his skin, all the Spartan warriors inked there standing at attention. “Ain’t nothin’ disgusting about it.”