Nickel: A Romantic Suspense Novel (Blackwood Elements Book 9) Read online

  “I promise I’ll be nice.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sure.”

  “Just don’t do it. Please? He’ll probably take all her stuff to Goodwill if you antagonise him.”

  “What stuff?”

  Leah dropped into one of the weird plastic chairs that had appeared in the kitchen the previous week. Lime green, kind of triangular, but at least the wheels on the bottom made it easier to tug her towards him.

  “Tell me everything, or I’ll have to ask Kenneth.”

  “You know his name?”

  Shit. “I may have heard Sloane mention it a time or two.”

  And he may also have got Kenneth’s number from Sloane’s cell phone when she wasn’t paying attention, then persuaded Mouse, one of Blackwood’s data geeks and a man of questionable morals, to dig up everything he could find on the sleaze. Kenneth spent a hundred dollars on a hairstylist every fourth Saturday, regular as clockwork. What sort of man did that? In fact, Logan couldn’t even remember the last time he got his hair cut. He stroked his chin absent-mindedly—yeah, he might have trimmed his beard a couple of weeks ago. Maybe a month.

  Leah ate two donuts while she spilled everything, but Logan had lost his appetite. That arrogant little troll was trying to bully Sloane into continuing their relationship after what he did? The guy was deluded. He’d had everything and lost it through his own stupidity. Sloane was sweet as cotton candy, loyal, hard-working, not to mention pretty. No, Kenneth wouldn’t be getting her back.

  “So he’s expecting her at seven?”

  “Yes, but she’s not going.”

  “Make sure she doesn’t. I’ll go instead.”

  “Logan…”

  “I won’t leave any marks. Cross my heart.”

  Logan left Sloane in the office hunting for Fantasia’s birthday present, and at five minutes to seven, he pulled up outside Kenneth’s apartment building with Slater in the passenger seat of his truck.

  “We’re just picking up Sloane’s stuff?” Slater asked. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Before they’d left, Leah had fetched them a bunch of those big cardboard boxes with lids from the archive room, and they were sitting in the back seat.

  “Sounds straightforward,” Slater said.

  “Yeah, it should be. In and out. Half an hour at most.”

  “Beers afterwards?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Logan grabbed the stack of boxes, and they headed for the communal entrance. A leggy blonde was on her way out, and when Slater flashed her a shit-eating grin, she tripped over her own feet to hold the door open for them.

  “Thanks, babe,” he said as they strolled past, and the girl turned scarlet.

  On the fourth floor, Logan stopped outside apartment 406, where Kenneth actually had his name outside on a tiny gold plaque. Talk about pretentious. Logan rapped on the door with his knuckles.

  A minute passed.

  Two.

  Eventually, the door opened and the greasy little shit peered out through the crack.

  First, Logan went for nice. He may have spent seven years in the military—three in the regular army, one as a Ranger, and three attached to a CIA unit so elite he wasn’t allowed to mention its name—but his momma had brought him up well.

  “Kenneth Perkins?”

  From the sportswear and the towel around his neck, it seemed as though they’d interrupted his workout, if you could call it that. He wasn’t sweating much.

  “Who are you?”

  “Friends of Sloane’s. She asked us to pick up her stuff.” Okay, so that was a tiny white lie. “Hope we’re not late.”

  “How did you even get into the building? Did you buzz the intercom? I didn’t hear you buzz the intercom. And I’m not speaking to you. I’ve already told Sloane I’ll return the items she left with me for safekeeping, but she’s got to come over herself. What, you think I’ll simply hand her things over to a pair of thugs like you? Get lost. Just get lost! Crawl back under your rock and stop disturbing people while they’re in the middle of important things, you condescending pair of slimeballs. Don’t you have anything better to do with your time? Because I do.”

  Kenneth ended on a yell and slammed the door in their faces. Slater looked at Logan.

  “I thought you said this would be easy?”

  Logan unclenched his jaw for long enough to speak. “Obviously, I was mistaken.”

  “So, what now? We go for beers?”

  “Give up? Never.” Logan chewed on his bottom lip as he mulled the problem over. “You know what it is? We’re not scary enough.”

  “Dude, you look like you just escaped from the zoo.”

  Was that supposed to be a compliment? Logan wasn’t sure. “Well, you look like you just escaped from the Tommy Hilfiger catalogue.”

  Slater may have had over one hundred confirmed kills, but most of them had been with a high-powered sniper rifle rather than hand to hand, and he’d been scouted by modelling agencies at least four times that Logan knew of.

  “Ralph Lauren, actually. You have a plan?”

  “Yup. Gonna call for reinforcements.”

  They sat in the hallway, legs crossed at the ankles with the stack of boxes beside them as they waited. What had Sloane ever seen in Kenneth? Logan struggled to find a single redeeming feature. Why did chicks dig guys like that? Boring apartment, boring job, boring to talk to, boring in bed… Yet Kenneth had hooked two girls, according to Leah, while Logan had been single since the lingerie model he’d been dating ditched him in a snit for prioritising work over a visit to Pottery Barn. Not that he’d been devastated. Yeah, she was pretty to look at, but it’d been like fucking one of those porcelain dolls. Cold, soulless, and a tiny bit creepy. At least his hand didn’t insist on calling him Logie.

  Half an hour passed before Jax and Evan trooped up the stairs. Evidently, they’d used the same trick as Slater.

  “Okay, we’re here,” Evan said. “Now what?”

  “Just stand behind us and act intimidating. I’ll do the talking.”

  “I think we can manage that.”

  “And don’t touch the guy. The deal is no violence, no marks.”

  “Are you kidding? Where’s the fun in that?”

  “I promised Sloane.” Well, Logan had promised Leah, which was practically the same thing.

  “We’re doing this for Sloane? Why?”

  “Because her ex is being a douche.”

  “Half the women in the office date douches, but we don’t visit all of them to rescue their stuff.”

  Oh, no way was Logan about to admit his true feelings. That he’d liked Sloane for years but always from afar. Sure, he’d been tempted to make a move, usually after copious quantities of alcohol, but each time, he’d come to his senses before he did something irreversibly stupid. Like kissing her, for example. Because girls like Sloane didn’t go for assholes like him. They picked the regular guys, preppy men who worked nine-to-five jobs and held family cook-outs on the weekend. Country music, Bud Light, five kinds of salad… Last time Logan and his buddies had decided to grill, half of them had chopped a tree down for the firepit while the others went to hunt dinner.

  “Uh, Sloane was crying earlier, and I hate it when women cry.” Logan was gonna pay for this later. “I promised I’d help her out. Believe me, I’d rather be in the bar.”

  “In that case, shall we get it over with?”

  Logan knocked on the door again, and a whole five minutes later, Kenneth yanked it open.

  “Now what do you want?” He peered past Logan and saw Evan and Jax standing behind Slater. Evan was a former Army Ranger too, while Jax fought MMA in his spare time. Kenneth’s tone softened a tad. “Look, I already told you, I’ll give Sloane her stuff back personally. No offence, but I’m just not going to hand it over to strangers.”

  “We’re not strangers to her.”

  “Well, bring her with you. Sorry, but I’m not wasting any more time on this.
I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  The door clicked shut, leaving the four Blackwood men on the wrong side of it.

  “Slightly better,” Slater said. “At least he didn’t tell us to crawl under a rock this time.”

  “I don’t get it,” Jax said. “I’ve had street thugs throw down their knives when I’ve asked them nicely.”

  “Are you sure we can’t maim him?” Evan asked. “Just a little?”

  Nothing would have given Logan more pleasure than twisting the shitbag’s arm off and inserting the soggy end up his rectum, but he had to respect Sloane’s wishes. Plus Leah was the chihuahua of executive assistants—tiny but vicious.

  “No maiming. Who else was left in the office? A couple more people should do it.”

  Jax and Evan looked at each other.

  “Nate,” Jax said.

  “Anyone else?”

  “Ana,” Evan blurted, and Jax tried to cover it up with a cough.

  “No no no no no no no.” Slater shook his head. “Not Ana. Don’t call Ana.”

  Logan considered the options for a few seconds. Ana was new to Blackwood, a Russian assassin who legend said could stop a man’s heart with a well-timed glare.

  “It might solve our problem. I’d hand Ana my firstborn child if she asked, wouldn’t you?”

  “Probably your balls too,” Jax muttered.

  “Ana’s not that bad,” Logan said. “I mean, I even saw her smile a month or two ago.”

  Yes, she had just broken a man’s arm, but it still counted, right?

  “If you think it’s a good idea, then you call and ask her to come.”

  What, just phone her up? Was Jax crazy?

  “Okay, what I’m gonna do is call Nate and ask him to bring her along when he comes.”

  Yes, that would work. And in the meantime, they could all run down to their cars and put on their body armour, just in case.

  CHAPTER 3 - LOGAN

  HALF AN HOUR later, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Only one set—Nate’s—because Ana wasn’t even human. Nate strolled around the corner with the bitch herself stalking behind him. She didn’t look happy. Nothing new there.

  “So, we’re here,” Nate said. “But you were light on the details. We need to persuade a creep to return items belonging to Sloane?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You didn’t elaborate on why?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Because Logan likes Sloane,” Slater piped up from behind him.

  “Shut up. I’ll buy everyone beers when we’re done, okay?”

  “Wait, you like Sloane?”

  “She helped me buy a birthday gift for my niece. Figured I owed her a favour.”

  “That’s all?”

  No. “Absolutely.”

  Nate stared at Logan for one long beat, then nodded.

  “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Logan took a deep breath and knocked on the door for the third time, Nate alongside him. A minute passed before Kenneth opened it, this time wearing a pair of chinos and a polo shirt.

  “You can bring as many people as you want, idiot, but I’m not letting you in. If you’ll excuse me, I’m in the middle of watching a movie.”

  Kenneth tried to shut the door, but Nate blocked it with his foot.

  “We’re reasonable men. Just give us Sloane’s belongings, and we’ll leave you alone.”

  “You can’t make me.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Lay one finger on me and I’ll call the cops. And my lawyer.”

  Nate took one pace to his left, and Ana stepped forward. Her freaky violet eyes locked onto Kenneth’s, and she stared at him for a full minute in total silence. You could have heard a cockroach fart. Although the only cockroach in the building was Kenneth, and from the way Ana was looking at him, he was more likely to shit himself.

  A bead of sweat ran down his forehead as Ana uttered a single word.

  “Move.”

  Kenneth moved, opening the door wide as he did so.

  “Fine, take whatever you want. Just hurry up.”

  Logan owed Ana a whole case of beer. Did she even drink the stuff? Or did she merely feast on the blood of her helpless victims?

  She followed Kenneth through the apartment, close, too close, invading his personal space. “Unsettling” didn’t even begin to cover it. From the way Kenneth kept glancing over his shoulder, he was one step away from leaping off the balcony.

  In the living room, she tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped a clear foot in the air. Logan resisted the urge to laugh as Ana waved at the couch.

  “We sit, da?” Today, she didn’t bother to hide her Russian accent, or the large knife she wore clipped to her belt. “We watch movie together.”

  Fuck. How did her boyfriend manage it? Living with Ana must be like sharing a very small tank with a great white shark.

  Slater interrupted Logan’s musings. “Right, what are we picking up?”

  Logan now realised the fatal flaw in his non-plan. “Uh, girl stuff.”

  “She didn’t give you a list?”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

  Slater blew out a long breath. “Then can you call her?”

  No chance. “Sure. I’ll get right on it.” He stepped a few feet away and pretended to dial. Listened. Let out a hopefully realistic sigh. “Straight to voicemail.”

  “How did you ever survive forty-seven trips to the Middle East?”

  Simple. Logan kept any photos of Sloane securely hidden away on his phone and only looked at them when he was off duty.

  “Pure dumb luck, buddy. Okay, just pick up anything that looks like it might belong to her. If it doesn’t, she can send it back later.”

  Or set fire to it. Logan would gladly lend her a lighter and a gallon of gas.

  The men assembled their boxes and traipsed around the apartment. Under the bed, Logan found a bra that was far too small to be Sloane’s and a pair of panties that possibly might have been hers. Black lace. Did Sloane wear black lace? He got a half-chub just thinking about it.

  Still, he didn’t want to take a chance they might belong to another girl and risk upsetting the delectable Miss Mullins, so he stuffed them into Kenneth’s closet instead. Now, what else could he take with him?

  In the kitchen, he found Evan stacking cupcake trays into a box and Nate making a sandwich.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I didn’t think Kenneth looked like much of a baker,” Evan said.

  “I was asking Nate, not you.”

  Nate sliced his chicken-on-rye down the middle. “What? I got hungry, and you guys seemed to have everything under control.”

  Well, Ana did, at least. When Logan walked through to the living room, Kenneth was squashed up against the arm of the sofa, fists clenched. Every few seconds, he cut his eyes in Ana’s direction. What were they watching?

  “…Luminol revealed a large pool of dried blood under the bedroom carpet. The Redwood Ripper had attempted to scrub it away, but it had seeped through…”

  True crime? They were watching a true-crime documentary?

  Ana pointed at the screen. “Stupid man. He should have stabbed her through eyeball. Much cleaner.”

  Kenneth’s eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out. Ana merely shrugged.

  “He’s not very good company.”

  “Just don’t give him a heart attack, okay?”

  “Then hurry up.”

  “Almost done.”

  Logan finished in the bathroom, then went to round up the others. Except when he got into the bedroom, something looked different. Hmm… Yes, what once had been a king-size wood-framed bed with flashy carving on the headboard was now just a mattress.

  “Evan, where’s the rest of the bed?”

  Please, say they hadn’t tried to fit it into Logan’s pickup.

  Evan pointed to the balcony. “These Leatherman multitools are surprisingly versati
le.”

  He’d reassembled the bed outside, and better still, it was starting to rain.

  “Nice work. You ready to go? Ana’s getting restless.”

  “Jax and Slater just took the last boxes down to your truck.”

  Half an hour later, the back of Logan’s Ram was stuffed full and he was sitting in the Brotherhood of Thieves, the Richmond bar he co-owned with two of his old high-school buddies. They’d both gone straight, they always kidded—Christian managed the place day-to-day and covered the occasional evening shift, while Trey did the marketing when he wasn’t busy being married with two kids and a Pomsky called Graham. Yeah, a Pomeranian crossed with a Husky. Graham shed hair everywhere and escaped at least once a week.

  Tonight, Trey was at a parent-teacher conference, but Christian was on duty while the Blackwood guys propped up the bar beside Logan. Ana excepted—she’d borrowed Nate’s car and driven back to her crypt.

  “What are you drinking?” Christian asked Logan.

  “Coke.”

  “Coke?”

  Usually, Logan had a beer, ate dinner, and then drove home. More than one alcoholic beverage, and he caught a ride. Never did he drink Coca-Cola.

  “Yeah, Coke.”

  “Are you sick?”

  Lovesick, possibly. Fuck. Logan quickly shook his head. Was Ana’s insanity contagious?

  “I need to go somewhere else afterwards.”

  “Still working?”

  “Not exactly.”

  But keeping a clear head was more important than ever tonight. He never knew what to say around Sloane. More often than not, he vomited out the wrong words and ended up insulting her by accident, like the time he’d said she looked as if she enjoyed eating candy. He’d meant because she smiled, but…yeah, he wouldn’t forget her hurt expression in a hurry. Now he tried to limit himself to business-related stuff and small talk, but sometimes, like tonight, he couldn’t resist becoming more involved.

  Still no wiser over how to explain his actions, he drained his glass, left the guys to their drinking, and headed for his truck.

  CHAPTER 4 - SLOANE

  DON’T CRY, SLOANE.

  I slammed the front door and shoved my gym bag into the hall closet. If I never saw it again, it would be too soon. A low groan escaped my lips as I crumpled to the floor, still clutching the bag of salad I’d bought on my way home.