The Spy With The Silver Lining

“Sit.”

She hesitated, then jerked the empty chair out, and as she sat, she slammed the empty martini glass down between them. “Okay, I’m sitting. Where’s my mother?”

“On her way to Le Mystère.”

“With who?”

“The gypsy scum.”

The gypsy wasn’t one of Yurii’s loyal soldatos. Casmir contemplated that. Rationalized why it had been easy to make the mistake. Considering the man’s appearance at the airport, it had been an easy one to make.

“And where were you when we got off the plane, riding in the gypsy’s pocket?”

“I sent Lazie to pick you up in my place.”

“Without telling me? Why would you change the plan and send a new contact? Someone I didn’t know or expect? I’m confused.”

“Use that line when you call Polax back. Tell him you got turned around and you made a mistake.”

He had to be kidding. “The mistake was yours, not mine. You never showed at the airport, and now some wild vagabond wearing an earring has hijacked my mother. She’s probably scared out of her wits.”

“Make the call.”

“I have a better idea. You make a call to the gypsy. Tell him to bring Mama back.”

“That would be a wasted trip. We’ll be joining them soon enough.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Besides not being able to tell time, you don’t hear well, do you?”

“You want to see Mama, right? Lazie’s got quite a reputation as a lady’s man.”

“Somehow I’m not worried Mama is going to fall hard for your colorful friend unless it’s while she’s scrambling to get downwind. He probably smells as bad as he looks.”

“Lazie has never been above taking what he wants when his mind is set.”

“You’re not suggesting that his mind is set on having my mother?”

“He did confess an interest in Cookie.”

“Cookie?”

“He’s already given her a nickname. Sweet, isn’t it?”

Casmir narrowed her eyes. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Oui. Call Polax.”

“No.”

“Tell him you ate something on the plane that scrambled your brain. Tell him since you last talked, you’ve taken some antacid, and now you’re thinking straight. Tell him we’re together and things have worked out.”

Casmir was so busy plotting the appropriate death for Mr. Asshole that she didn’t see the guy she’d had words with earlier leave his table and head their way.

“Your jealous badass boyfriend finally show up, cher?”

She looked up and saw the cretin she’d backed off at gunpoint. Big Burly was once again behind him—the giant looked like barroom brawling was his profession instead of his hobby.

Whatever, Casmir thought, but he really needed to get himself some new friends and a haircut and invest in a new razor.

“I asked if dis is da boyfriend you was crowin’ about, cher?”

She had never had a boyfriend, but if she was ever in the market for one, Pierce Fourtier wouldn’t make the bottom of the list. He was arrogant, practiced deviant tactics and no doubt had the morals of a rodent. Which was probably why Onyxx had recruited him as a rat fighter.

She glanced at Pierce, who had lit another cigarette—she added chain smoking to the list of his unsavory behavior—then looked back at the cretin who didn’t know when to give up.

“How old are you?”

The question seemed to throw him. He blinked his bloodshot eyes, then slowly grinned. “Old enough to know what ta do with you, cher.”

Casmir rolled her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Name’s Parnel, sweet thin’.”

“Well, Parnel, I’m surprised that someone hasn’t shut you up permanently by now. If this is your routine every time a woman comes through the front door, I’m amazed that your throat hasn’t been slit, or your kneecaps blown off.”

Pierce chuckled, and Parnel gave her boyfriend a narrow-eyed glare. “You tough enough to slit my throat, badass?”

“It could happen, mon ami, if you’re not out of my face in five seconds.”

“You think you’ve got big enough balls to send me to hell?” Parnel grabbed his crotch. “I guarantee mine are bigger. I can back up what I say in an alley or in the bedroom.”

His friend stepped up and gave Parnel an elbow. “You’ve made a mistake. This guy is—”

“Shut up, Frog.”

“You should listen to your friend. He knows something you don’t. Something you don’t want to find out the hard way.”

Casmir glanced at Pierce, then Parnel’s muscle-bound friend, who had just been given the name Frog. An interesting nickname, but Big Burly fit him better.

Pierce and Frog exchanged that look. The look of recognition. Parnel never saw it: he was too busy puffing up his chest.

“I doan like you. I’m not so sure I like your girlfriend anymore neither, but no one tells me ta get lost. What’s it gonna be, fists or knives?”

“Parnel, I’m tellin’ you, this guy isn’t someone you want to piss off.”

“Stuff it, Frog. He’s da one who should be worried ’bout pissin’ me off.”

“But you don’t want to fight him. He’s—”