When He's Dirty, стр. 2
“Ouch,” I whisper at his ear. “I think that hurt.”
Lucifer gives an evil laugh and says, “Pain is the sweet stuff, man. Oh so sweet.”
I decide right then he’s as evil as his laugh. I might end up liking him after all.
The game ends and we all end up at Asher’s house, another blond, tatted-up dude who was on SEAL Team Six with Adam. Asher’s a good guy, married, stable, and nifty as hell at hacking. I’m in the kitchen at the island drinking a beer with him and Adam, while Adam talks about some asshole who tried to mug a woman in the subway this morning. Of course, Adam handled it. This is usually where I’d tell some stupid joke, about him liking the purse more than the other guy, a time when I’d fit in, and seem like less of an asshole than I am, but today I’m not that guy. I thought the game and the guys were just what I needed to get my mind off my problem. I mean, I do like the Walker team and pretty much everyone here. This a brotherhood, a place where you belong when you belong nowhere else. But today I question if being with them was ever a smart choice.
My cellphone buzzes and the sound rattles my normally unshakable nerves, for the very reason I’m doubting my place here. It’s all about my life before Walker that just won’t let me go.
I snake my phone from my pocket, glace at the number that means bad news, and send it to voicemail, at least for now. I eye Asher who’s talking about all but getting his ass kicked on a job mission. “Obviously, you Team Sixers don’t know how to fight the Mexican way.”
Asher arches a brow. “Which is how?”
“Dirty. I’d explain what that means, but I’d have to kill you.”
Savage appears at the end of the island and smirks. “Your pops is white. You told me so. In other words, you fight just like us white guys.”
“You never saw my mama when she was pissed off,” I assure him. “My mama would have made you her little bitch, Savage.”
Savage smirks. “You’re the little bitch.”
“When my mama got a hold of me, yeah. I was.”
Everyone laughs and my phone starts ringing again, and thanks to Savage running his mouth, I easily slip away from the group.
I walk away, feeling all kinds of dirty, and not because I’m Mexican. I’m proud of my heritage. I loved my mother dearly and so did my father. Even so, despite inheriting her dark hair and brown eyes, no one thinks I’m Mexican. It works for me, it means I can play the Latin role or not, I’m easy that way. And that’s exactly how I ended up undercover for the Feds on the case that pretty much gutted my life. I was seasoned, a good choice for a dangerous job. And the devil incarnate, our target, liked me. More and more, I’m not sure if that’s a testament to my skills or my character.
“Someone else is dead,” I say, skipping the niceties, which my caller will understand. Kirk Pitt was on the same task force I was when we took on the King Devil, Nick Waters—the leader of one of the most notorious biker gangs in the world. He just wasn’t on the inside of the club like I was. He wasn’t ruined like I was.
“Yes,” he confirms. “Another one down. We need you, man, or Waters is going to get off. The ADA on this case is asking for you.”
My lips thin. We got Waters and a shit ton of his people on everything from extortion to murder to sex trafficking. The problem is I’m one of the only credible witnesses that can pull all the pieces together.
“I bet she is,” I say.
“She’s legit, man.”
“And you know that how?”
“Her reputation.”
“You forget that nothing gets Nick Waters off like turning a good girl going bad.”
“All those years you were under were for nothing if he’s the one getting off.”
“Which is exactly what happens if I’m dead,” I say.
“Adrian, man—”
“What does she know about me?”
“She knows you by your real name, Adrian Mack, not Adrian Ramos. Your photos and file remain top secret to protect your identity but she’s read your written testimony.”
“What about John Jacobs?” I ask. “He’s the CEO of a the next best thing to Facebook. He was Waters’ partner. Where are you on getting him to roll over on Waters?”
“Nowhere. He’s not even in the picture. He knows we don’t have shit on him. He and Waters will be back in business in no time without you. Call the prosecutor, man. Talk to her.”
My lips thin. “Text me her information. I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll text you right fucking now because you don’t have a lot of time on this, none of us do. The trial is only six weeks away. He knows you’re out there. He knows you can come for him. You think he’s not coming for you?”
A muscle in my jaw ticks. “I’ll be in touch.”
I disconnect and my phone immediately buzzes with a text message. I sit down on a living room chair and click the Dropbox link Kirk just sent me. The first document is a photo of a gorgeous brunette with blue eyes. Priscilla Miller, often called “Pri,” spent years working for her father’s high-profile law firm, helping bad guys walk free. She did well. She made a lot of money. Then one day, she quit and joined the good guys at the district attorney’s office, walked away from the money in the process. Only, things like that don’t just happen. I know. I didn’t just randomly wake