Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (the false prince .TXT) 📕

his dark hair is tousled. He's staring forward at a bottle of Southern Comfort, like it has insulted him. He's not approachable in the least, and I'd be a damned fool to think he's not keeping track of everybody around him. There's a beer in front of him, but it's full. He's tense.

He's pissed.

I sidle up to the chair beside him, scanning down the bar for Noah. He's not there.

Frederick doesn't move when he says, “Any reason in particular that I had to hear from Noah you were running late?”

I bristle, and my buzz dulls. He's right, but his tone grates on my nerves. He's my right hand. I should have let him know, but I forgot in my haste to get high. I don't want to fight, especially not with him.

“I'm sorry.”

He sighs, but the edge in his voice softens just a bit.

“Where's Josh?”

I grab his beer and take a deep drink. It's an Italian dark, and it's perfect after the day I've had.

I say, “Don't get me started on that fuck stick right now.”

There's enough venom left over from the afternoon that it seeps into my tone. It's not really a suggestion. Maybe he won't push the issue.

Finally he turns that hard look on me and says, “He's supposed to watch your back.”

A furrow is forming in my forehead, and my nerves are fluttering in my gut. I don't like the anxiety, but it seems to be winning.

I say, “Well, I guess he's too busy watching Carrie's back, if you catch my drift.”

One of his eyebrows lifts slowly, and he looks back to the liquor.

“Cattiness doesn't suit you,” he says quietly.

Rage bubbles over the rim of my inner cauldron.

“Hijo de puta,” I hiss. “It does when he's been bringing them to our traps.”

He's quiet for a long time, long enough that I know the news pisses him off as much as it did me. Josh has been jeopardizing everything, and for how long? And when he has his own place.

Finally Frederick says, “I'll handle it.”

It's definitely not what I expected him to say, but it closes the subject well enough, so I leave it alone. Freddy and I don't talk about Josh unless it's business. It's easier that way, and there's not much to be said about the past. I choose not to ask about the strange and strained sort of friendship that grew between them after Josh saved Freddy's life.

Frederick's tension doesn't ease, though. Something else is bothering him, something he doesn't want to talk about.

“Maria! My radiant sunbeam!”

It's Noah. He reaches out his tattooed arms for a hug, and adds, “I see you've found our resident rain cloud.”

“Eat a dick, Noah,” Freddy says.

I fold into the hug. For just a moment, I feel like a human.

“Eva! Watch the bar, if you'd be so kind?” Noah calls over my head, and I can only imagine the daggers she glares at my back.

We take a table in the back, and Jack joins us. The other server, Lydia, takes our drink orders. I sit with my back to the wall, Frederick to my right, where we can both see the front door and the sidewalk beyond. Noah is in front of me.

Once we're eating, and the server is gone, I say, “So, we have a problem.”

“Oh, I love those words. They're my favorite,” Noah says, tone edged in sarcasm.

“Shut up,” Jack says, without missing a beat. “Let's hear it.”

“The latest shipment looks like shit. I don't know what those guys across the border are trying to pull, but it's sub-par to our standards. The problem is that I'm already getting grief over pricing.”

Noah is sawing into his steak, but his bright eyes are on me. Jack's too. I pause for a bite, and a drink.

“Since you boys have a substantial order, I'd prefer to delay the deal until I can talk to Abuela about the issue. I have to figure out some way to avoid losing a bunch of customers, and hurting all of us. And I still have to move this shit somehow.”

“How long are we talking? We're already past the point of ordering. If we wait too long, we'll go dry,” Jack says.

I glance at Frederick. He's taking a bite of mashed potatoes, but his eyes are scanning the room. He won't speak up. He never does.

“I'll try my best to have a resolution by tonight,” I tell them.

Jack and Noah aren't usually all that hard to read, but when we start talking business, they close up. They're good, been doing this for a long time. They'll play it smart. It's something I count on.

“That's my girl,” Noah grins.

“You only wish I were your girl,” I reply.

Bang bang, quick to the trigger. Gotta keep 'em on their toes, keep up the mean girl, for my audience's sake.

“Buuuuurrrrrrn,” Noah says. “A guy can hope, right?”

I throw my napkin at him, and he laughs. His laughter is contagious, to me. Not to Frederick, nor to Jack.

Sometimes I think it bothers Freddy when I flirt with Noah, or anyone, but he'll never say it. He stays farther from me emotionally these days, doing his best to avoid situations where we might get caught up in the heat. It's smart, I have to agree, considering he's ranked directly below me. We've all seen what happens when the lines blur.

Still, I miss him sometimes, and he's sitting right beside me.

He doesn't speak for the rest of the meal. He doesn't say a word until we're in the front seat of the Cadillac, and we're pulling onto Magazine Street. He's driving. I love watching him behind that wheel, the reverence he shows the machine. She's as much his baby as she is mine these days.

“So what's your plan?” he asks, and his tone is much more relaxed now that we're alone.

The windows are up, the AC working overtime, but I feel sticky. I drag my hair over my shoulder and work a quick braid into it. Then I rest my head against the