The Dangerous Curves Series

Chapter 68

King regarded him calmly. “A job like that ain’t cheap, man. One hundred at least. Probably more, in the end, especially since we may need to hire a private plane to extract him from another country.”

“I know it. I don’t care.”

King sighed. “You sure? Really sure? Because once my people find him and bring him to you, there’s no stopping it, no taking it back. You get that?”

“Yes.”

“OK, then.”

Jax stared at him. “Just like that? Just, ‘OK, then’?”

“Yep, just like that. You pay me half up-front, the rest when the job is done, and all the final services are tallied up and added in.”

Jax sat down heavily. “So easy…”

“If you have a spare hundred-thousand bucks sitting around? Damn right it’s easy.”

Jax was quiet for a minute. “So, who are you going to send?”

“Honey. And Tank for backup, if necessary.”

“Honey?”

“Uh-huh.”

Despite himself, Jax perked up a bit. Tank was a hardcore ex-SEAL son-of-a-b***h who made King look like a wimp, but Honey was one hundred pounds of pure lethal. If she went after Dave, he wouldn’t have a f*****g prayer. The woman had a real hate-on for abusive men, having barely survived one herself years ago, and she’d make it her personal mission to bring Dave to Jax. Chances were, she’d get a few punches in herself before handing him over, trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey.

“So your price is definitely too low,” Jax said. “I know she’s one of your best, and Tank doesn't come cheap, either.”

“The price is fine. It’ll cover fees and expenses, and I’ll just forget about my percentage.” King shrugged, his shoulder muscles rippling. “Consider it a gift from me to you.”

“So this is the ‘you’re-my-friend’ price, huh?”

King’s gray eyes were hard. “It’s the ‘I-want-to-kill-this-fucker-as-much-as-you-do’ discount. What he’s done to Sarah? It hasn’t just upset you, man.”

“Yeah. I know.”

The two men gazed at each other for a few seconds.

“So.” King looked away first. “I’ll make a call.”

“You do that,” Jax said. “You tell me the where and when. And depending what happens with Sarah, I’ll decide on the what.”

****

Aidan nodded goodbye to King, then waited patiently for Jax to emerge from his office. He’d wait as long as he had to; this was a conversation that was a long time in coming.

It took an hour for Jax to show his face, and when he did, he looked different. Not beaten down and helplessly enraged anymore: he looked defiant and defensive. And that was when Aidan was sure what had happened behind that closed office door.

Goddammit, Jax.

Jax strode over to him. “You have the numbers from yesterday?”

Aidan leaned back. “Yeah. You want to run over them now?”

“Sure.” Jax glanced around the almost-empty bar, not taking in anything or anyone.

“Don’t do this, man.”

Jax’s green eyes flicked back to Aidan, the anger surfacing rapidly. “Do what?”

“You know damn good and well what.” Aidan didn’t back down, didn't drop his gaze. He knew that he came across all laid-back, good old Texan boy, but that wasn’t really him – not by a long shot. That was just for the tips, and the women, and the job security.

The men studied each other, grim and silent. Then Jax shrugged.

“None of your f*****g business, Carter.”

“Wrong.”

Jax actually did a double-take. “What the f**k, man?”

“It is my business, because I’m just about the only person in this place who knows about your time in jail.”

Jax turned white. “You – what?”

“Uh-huh.”

Those golden eyes were harder than Jax had ever seen them; he hadn’t even known that Aidan could look like this. The grinning, charming Golden Boy bartender with the loose, relaxed body was gone – all the way gone, man – and in his place stood some kind of jungle cat. Flat, dangerous eyes; those huge muscles coiled up and all set to pounce; his mouth drawn up in a snarl, ready to rip Jax’s throat out.

Holy s**t.

“Talk.” Jax’s voice was so rough, Aidan was sure it could crush asphalt right now. “What the f**k do you think you know?”

“You killed your mother’s murderer with your bare hands.”

Jax swallowed.

“You were seventeen, and there were about a dozen extenuating circumstances, so you caught one hell of a break. Just three years, but you served every second of ‘em.” He stared hard. “Two of them in a maximum security prison. That’s where you met a guy named Sig Rattner.”

Jax’s mind whirled. Rattner?

“My half-brother,” Aidan said. “Also in for murder. You used to box with him sometimes.”

Jax’s thoughts clunked into place like a row of cherries on a slot machine. Hell, yeah. Rattner. Big bastard, with one mean right hook.

“He’s your brother?”

“Half,” Aidan corrected him. “And he’s dead now.”

“Sorry.”

Aidan shrugged. “Don’t be. He wasted every single chance ever handed to him in his life. He wasn’t like you.”