I drum my fingers on the counter as I wait. My status of being alive must’ve come as a shock to Wolfe. I smile inwardly as I imagine his surprise when he went after Ian and found me. It took him less than a second to pull the trigger. Perhaps he reacted in shock. Whatever the case, his impulsive decision to put me back in the grave scored points for him. Like I told Ian, he now knows I was bluffing about releasing the evidence. Ian is right. Wolfe won’t stop until I’m dead—again—and since I’m already officially dead, he’ll get away with murder. Literally. Double points for Wolfe. Double bummer for me.
The security gate behind the door makes a clicking sound I’m well familiar with, having visited Mint several times at his office. The door swings open to reveal Mint’s pale, bony face. He steps cautiously over the threshold, looking like he’d rather bolt than say hello.
If he’d already called Wolfe from his upstairs office, Ian would’ve called me. The fact that my phone rests silently in my back pocket means Mint first wanted to see me with his own eyes before making that call, if he will make it.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Hi.”
“Cas.” Like Olga, he appears surprised but not shocked. “I thought you were—” He coughs.
Rolling on the balls of my feet, I enjoy his discomfort a little too much. “Dead?”
He glances at Olga, who looks on with eyes the size of ping pong balls.
“What brings you here?” he asks.
“You,” I say. “We’re supposed to be soulmates, remember?”
He shifts his weight. “Olga, go grab some lunch.”
“It’s eleven,” she says.
He makes big eyes at her and tilts his head toward the door. “Have an early one.”
Looking between us, she grabs her handbag from under the counter and all but runs to the door.
She’s almost in the street when Mint calls after her. “Best not talk to anyone.”
The bell chimes over the door when it closes. An uncomfortable silence follows. I wait for Mint to make the first move, but he can’t seem to find the right words.
After I moment, I lean my elbows on the counter and help the man out. “You must be wondering what happened to me.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Really, Cas, I don’t want to know.”
“The less you know the safer, right?”
“Something like that. Look, just tell me why you’re here.”
“I need your help.” I bat my eyelashes. “I need a place to crash.”
He lifts his eyes toward the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be dragged into whatever mess you’re in.”
I lower my voice. “The cops are after me. I need help.”
He pushes his thin hair from his face. “What do you want from me?”
“A small loan to see me through until I get back on my feet.”
“Money?” he asks in a shrill voice.
“Yes, money. You always told me you have a lot of it. I reckoned you wouldn’t mind lending me some. I’m stuck here until I can scrape together enough cash to disappear again.”
“How can I loan money to a dead person? What guarantee do I have you’ll pay me back? If you don’t, I can’t even take legal action.” He adds, “Since you don’t exist, at least not on the records.”
He knows I’m back in town, that I’m in trouble, and out of money. That means I should hang around for a while, at least until I can get my hands on cash. I’ve achieved what I wanted to. I should just get the hell out, but since he’s so opposed to helping me when he once pledged his love to me for life, I can’t help but play with him.
I make an innocent face. “You could simply give me some. Call it a donation.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I won’t call the cops on you, but you have to leave.”
“Are you throwing me out? What about all that talk about how we were meant to be together and that you’d wait for me as long as it took?”
His face turns blotchy red. “I only said that to get into your pants. You’re not marriage material, Cas. You’re the girl a guy wants to fuck while he’s sowing his wild oats, not the girl he wants to be the mother of his children.”
Mother and children hit a sore point.
That does it. Forget red. I see purple, ugly black-purple-mashed-up red. He’s just like that guy at Sun City who made a crude remark about my clothes. Just like that guy, Mint made me a generalization. On top of that, he’d been too much of a coward back then to defend me. He can learn a thing of two from Ian. Ian kidnapped me, but he never treated me like a slut who’s good for a fuck but unworthy of being a mother.
Outwardly calm, I rest the dirty sole of my sneaker on the plush, white leather poof meant for wealthy customers, pull up the leg of my jeans, and take my gun from the holster.
“What the fuck?” Mint exclaims, backing up to the wall.
I point the gun at him. “Put your hands in the air.” It’s stupid, but I’ve always wanted to say that.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says, his pupils bouncing like pinballs in their sockets.
Keeping my eyes and weapon on him, I backtrack to the door, lock it, and turn the open sign to closed. There’s an alarm button under the cash register counter, but he’s a good few steps away. I guess he never thought I’d have the balls to pull a gun on him.
Coming around the counter, I say, “Go upstairs.” When he turns to execute the order, I jab the barrel of the gun in his ribs. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
He walks like a stickman, stopping at the wall panel and entering the code to open the gate.
I push him over the threshold. “Go on. No funny business or I shoot you in the ass.”
“Fuck.” He glances at me from over his shoulder. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
“Not the kind of woman who’d make a good mother, huh? I mean, being out of my mind and all. I suppose being attractive and wearing clothes that make you feel good aren’t characteristics of a good mother either.”
His knees buckle a bit as we reach his office door. “What do you want me to say? That you’re not slutty? Tell me. I’ll say it.”
“Nah. I’m not in the mood for more of your lies.” I push the barrel against his spine. “I’m more in the mood for shooting you in the balls. Do you know what it feels like to get shot?”
“No,” he says, his hands shaking where he holds them in the air.
“I do. It hurts like a bitch.”
His voice is high-pitched. “What do you want?”
“Open the door.”
The door has an electronic lock as well as a key. Double security. He fits the key in the hole and unlocks the door. Then he punches another code on a wall panel and fumbles with the doorknob. It takes him a moment before he manages to turn it.
I push him again. “Inside.”
He stumbles into the room.
“Open the safe,” I say.
He spins around and faces me with a wide-eyed stare. “You’re joking.”
“I asked you nicely for a few hundred bucks. How much do you pay for a round of golf at Sun City? A thousand bucks? That’s not counting the drinks at the bar. You could’ve given me the price of an afternoon of fun. You want to know the truth? I would’ve walked away even if you’d given me nothing but a kind word and pretense of care. Now it’s going to cost you a whole lot more than playing eighteen holes.” I aim the gun at his balls. “Am I laughing? I should be, but I’m afraid you’re not that funny. No jokes, Mint. Open the safe.”