Code Red (Book#2 of The Runaway Club)

19. Terminator Likes It Fancy

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My pen was tapping the dark wood rhythmically and Frank Sinatra sang softly on my gramophone, but my mind was deep in thoughts.

I glanced at the offending phone on my table and looked away before I did something rash like chucking it against the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces. I would say that watching a phone all night and day over a measly phone call for the past four days was pathetic; but let's be real, it was the lowest point of my life.

By all accounts, there is no real reason I should be fixating after Aaron Krystals. He was the trouble that was not even worth the international mafia take downs I was getting involved in. Sure, taking down an Italian mafia with the recent alliance with the Russians would eventually translate to notoriety and higher pay grades; but the truth was that it was Aaron's fight.

And I was the one who would take the fall if it all goes south.

Not that it will... optimism and all.

But I was talking about the real chances of that happening. Risks in my line of business were usually straightforward—you either make it out alive or dead. Any limbs or money you retain would only ever be bonuses. And it was already ridiculous I was doing it free of charge for him. Now I am pining after him with Frank Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night" playing in the background.

How far the fearsome El Diablo had sunken!

Not that I would let anyone know of my currently pitiful position; my men were celebrating the successful alliance with the Russians downstairs with hookers and booze. I never realized how much they worried if Profetas del Diablo would survive going against the Italians alone; but the relief in Antonio's eyes once I put my phone down after the conversation with the Pakhan was a dead giveaway. He didn't even care that my only demand was the maniac Russian drug dealer to join my ranks, he was just esctatic the Russians were in with us. And with the way alliance worked, my men would have a place even if Profetas del Diablo and I never survived this.

The blasted phone rang and I picked it absentmindedly.

"Speak."

"Why the f*ck do you sound like the Terminator?"

I sat up straighter, my eyes wide. He finally called but whether I should be happy or concerned was a whole different question. I pulled the phone away from my ears and disabled the built in voice distorter.

"What is it, Krystals?" I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"That is better." He commented. "Why do you have a voice changer on?"

"Aren't you full of questions today?" I snapped before calming myself down. "My position isn't exactly a secretary and a female voice doesn't exactly inspire fear and submission in my career space."

"So the fact that you are R—"

"I would be careful of what I say when others are watching me."

"Right." He cleared his throat, suddenly reminded of the fact that the Feds were tapping this very phone call. "I just wanted to ask for the progress and what I should be expecting but that is kind of pointless now is it?"

"Not all that pointless. I made some friends and things should work more efficiently. And as of right now, you have nothing to do other that the few suggestions I made while at your place."

"Babe, we did more than just suggesting..." He drawled in a low, husky voice that was admittedly hot.

"Yes, you are right. I remember pointing out how shitty your IT and securities are as well." I shot back, ignoring the endearment.

"Now, now Moon Flower. Let's not personally insult each other." He chuckled and took a pause once he was done. "I called to ask if you were free anytime soon."

"Why?"

"Why? That is a very good a question but you see the problem with good questions are—"

"Aaron." I growled, cutting off his rant.

"Just for a dinner." He admitted. "Or lunch, whatever suits your schedule."

I was stunned. 

It took me a moment or so to regroup as this was a question I hadn't been asked since a long time, more than a decade since if I was being honest. And even though Aaron was very vocal about his intensions even after watching me commit multiple manslaughter and homicide counts, it still took me by surprise.

"I am not someone you want to have a date with, Krystals." I sighed.

"Come on! You know I would have sent you some moon flowers to ask more politely but it's not like I know where you live."

"You don't tell where you live to a stranger." I deadpanned.

"Owch. But yeah, you got a point. But since you know where I live, maybe we can accept our differences and move on?" He asked playfully. "Come on, Moon Flower it will be fun. I will buy you food and take you someplace fancy."

"I don't like fancy." I lied.

"Now that is some pure bullsh*t coming from a woman who likes Elvis Presley. Come on, just this once. I won't even bug you for your name this time! We both can enjoy the night as two adults who are attracted to each other. And we can quit the moment it gets boring."

"Aaron, why don't you understand—"

"—That I am no one you should be dating, I don't belong in your world, it is dangerous." He cut me off with a high pitched screech that was a poor imitation of my voice. "And at the rate you are going, I wouldn't be surprised if you throw in a 'go find another blonde bimbo' for some variety."

I had to work real hard to reign in my laugh.

"So shall I take the silence as your acceptance?" He asked hopefully.

I didn't speak.

"Awesome! Meet you tomorrow at eight pm at La Grande under my reservation. Dress nice. Good night, Moon Flower."

I took a deep breath, bewildered at myself. A small smile played on my lips.

"Good night, Romeo."

And now I had to figure out how to go to the first date in the last twelve or so years without alerting the entire house tomorrow.

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NEXT UPDATE: (...who are we to dictate the oceans, stars and the skies? I say let the nature take its merry course...)