He stared up at me, a mournful expression on his face. “You’re a lot harder than you used to be.”
“Yeah, well, considering you’re one of the people who made me that way,” I said with a shrug, “I suppose you can’t complain. Talk. What do you have to trade for your license?”
I didn’t have any intention of blacklisting his license. Catching him in the act was good enough, but I’d drop a word into Hernandez’s ear, just in case the cameras had been turned off with a bit of slick passing over someone’s hand. Either way, he’d be holed up tight into a pocket he couldn’t get out of, and Hernandez would know to watch out for Samms in the future.
“You already told me there’s a contract on Kenny and he’s run down to San Diego. What else you’ve got?” I prompted him. “And it better be big.”
“Thing about you, Gracen, is that sure, you’re a damned good Stalker. Better than Dempsey even, but you always walk on the right side of the line. You’d be a hell of a lot more well-off if you dipped into the shadow market once in a while. Since you don’t, a lot of Stalkers feel like you think you’re too good for everyone else. That pisses people off,” Samms started, getting up on his knees but keeping his hands where I could see them. “Kenny’s contract is to bring him in, but not to any casino. It’s a private debt. Sealed but on the books. But there’s another one out there. Bigger money, and a lot of people perked up when it dropped a week ago. Made a few people sit up straight and begin to wonder how damned good you really are.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Samms?” It was getting a bit too chilly for me, but I needed him to finish talking. “There’s another contract on Kenny? What the hell’s he done that’s so shitty people are putting call outs on him?”
“See, your brain. It goes to all the good places and none of the dark.” Samms was uncomfortable. “It’s a shadow market. Open to any and all with enough guts to do the job.”
He fidgeted and squirmed, but the cold wasn’t as strong as his need to draw things out, to stroke his own ego and force me to wait. Typical Samms. It hadn’t bothered me when I was younger, but a few decades under my belt and I just wanted to crawl back under the blankets and get warm. Maybe even get some sleep. Or it could have been I’d finally taken on some of Dempsey’s more impatient, antisocial traits. Either way, my patience with him was at an end.
I knew about the shadow-market contracts. I even knew how to find them, but I’d not only inherited Dempsey’s distaste for mollusks, I also had his healthy dislike for under-the-table bounties. I’d been the last shadow-market contract he’d entertained, and I hadn’t even known he’d done them until he lay dying in a hospital bed.
“Look, Samms. I know you love to hear the sound of your own voice, but could you hurry this up?” I let the shotgun drop, pointing the barrel at the ground. “Seriously, we’re both freezing our asses off here, and you’re not getting any younger. I mean, I could stand here all century and be okay, but you—”
“Screw you, Gracen.” He placed his hands on the ground, using them to balance while getting up. Grunting, he slowly stretched out, his knees popping and crackling when he shook out his legs. “You used to be a hell of a lot nicer.”
“Yeah, well you were prettier then, and I was stupider,” I replied. “Just spit it out and we can all just go about our business, providing you mind your own and don’t cross mine again. What about this contract? The second one?”
“It’s not on Kenny, you idiot. It’s on you.” This time his smirk had no charm to it. Nearly serpentine and glittering, it curled up over his cheeks, bringing out that damned dimple of his. There was no doubt in my mind he was enjoying this. Samms always did like to play with his food, and right then, I was his prey, despite being the one holding the shotgun. “Someone put out a shadow-market bounty on you. A hell of a lot of coin. Quarter if you’re not breathing, but it still would be a huge chunk of change. Got the boards buzzing because—”
“They’ve posted a hit on a Stalker.” The thought boggled my mind. A lot of Stalkers lurked on the shadow-market boards to plump up lean times, but no matter how deep one fell into the dark side of things, no one would target someone with a badge. “Who the hell would target a Stalker?”
“Contractor’s masked. They usually are, but the money’s there. Released on delivery. Arrangements to be made once the bounty’s been confirmed,” he rattled off. “Board went nuts. Most Stalkers are calling for a ban on the contractor, but a few of the good ones are staying silent, either minding their own business or—”
“Thinking about adding to their bank account,” I finished for him. “You know what this means, right? It’s open season on any Stalker. Not just me. Hell, on anyone with a star. And you weren’t going to say shit to me about this?”
“Actually, I was going to leave you a note on your windshield. Got the envelope in my pocket.” Samms shrugged. “Right after I slashed your tires. I just want Kenny. Bringing you down would set me up for life, but let’s face it, you hold a grudge, and despite everything, I kinda like you. Besides, if I take a shot and miss, you’d hunt me until my bones were worn down to nubs. No one in their right mind would come after you, but there’s a lot of crazy people out there, Gracen. Someone’s going to look at all of the zeros behind that first number and start thinking about where they could buy their own island. I’d tell you to get some people to watch your back, but you’re not the kind of guy who actually has people around him long enough to do that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Samms,” Ryder said, stepping out from behind the column nearest the Mustang’s front end. “Kai’s got a lot of people who have his back, myself included. He’s a member of my Court, a very important member, and he’s got his family. So it wouldn’t just be him you’d be running from if you tried to take a shot at him.”
He held the Beretta I’d given him, properly squaring off and steadying his stance, centered on Samms’s chest. I nearly brought up the shotgun, stopping the rise of its muzzle before it swung away from Samms. He’d come up silently enough for us not to notice, and I wasn’t sure if I was more ashamed for not hearing him or proud as hell he’d pulled it off.
“You okay, Kai?” Ryder asked softly, not taking his eyes off Samms.
“Yeah, I’m fine. And you can lower the gun. He’s already taken his best shot at Oketsu and got caught.” I stepped away from the Mustang to give Samms some room. “So now I’ve got to watch my six for Stalkers?”
“I’d say no. Not anyone worth their salt. Everyone wearing a star’s got the same idea as you. They might be jealous of you or wish they were better than you, but when it’s all said and done, you’re a Stalker. You’d come armed to the teeth if a call came out that one of them needed help,” Samms replied, brushing his hands on his jeans. Tugging an envelope out of his pocket, he grunted when it finally came loose. “See? Note. Even if you wouldn’t let me cut off your ears, I wouldn’t have jacked you over like that. I was going to tell you. Because if we let someone hunt you, then we’re letting anyone hunt any of us.