TITLE: THE BIZ

AUTHOR: PEJA

RATING: GEN

STATUS: NEW

DATE: 10/1/98

ARCHIVE: YES

THE BIZ
by PEJA

"There's a package in the pocket."

Jevon DeLain grimaced, letting his possessive glance stray over the sleeping redhead curled contentedly at his side in the rumpled bed. What the blazes was he doing? A woman didn't fit into his line of work. Private attachments were dangerous.

Both for him and the woman.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard," Jevon grumbled, scowling. "Your timing is...inconvenient."

"When's it not inconvenient?"

Jevon heaved a silent sigh. "Location?"

"Area C-4."

Jevon could hear the laughter in his caller's voice. "You gloating, Comeu?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

"I'm not a fool," he said, chuckling. "When?"

"Now."

The scowl returned. "Bit of a rush."

"Personal jobs usually are."

"You, personal?"

The voice was slow in coming. " A friend, personal."

"The buyer checks?"

"I would send you on a call that didn't?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

"You're prepared to lie?"

Jevon chuckled. "Can't be there for a couple hours."

"Confirmed. Will transmit E.T.A. to the buyer."

His instructions received, Jevon leaned back against his crushed pillows and allowed himself another glance at the delightful woman who had shared his afternoon. "Damn inconvenient."

Sliding out of bed, he grabbed a quick shower, wrapped a fluffy towel around his slim waist and wandered back into the bedroom. The woman still slept soundly, a satisfied smile curving her passion-swollen mouth.

A lazy answering smile ghosted over his lips.

Danger be damned. This particular lady filled him with a warm feeling of security. And an incredibly hot surge of possession.

He couldn't let her go. He was too damn accustomed to having her at hand.

Chuckling softly, he leaned back through the bathroom door and snatched a towel from the rack. Several quick flicks of his wrist twisted the towel into a tight rope, and silent as a ghost, he crept toward the unsuspecting woman.

The coiled towel lashed out, striking her pale thigh and bringing her violently awake. "What...?'

Grinning wickedly, Jevon wiggled his brows at her. "Time to wake up, Manda."

"You're a real bastard, Jev," she grumbled, shoving back the heavy tumble of flaming hair.

He leaned down, kissing her mood away. "Take that up with me mum, love. Was her decision not to marry me da."

She threw a downy pillow at him, hitting him square in the face. "Arrogant wretch."

Jevon waved his finger in her face, tutting her. "A lady with such a depraved mouth should make an effort to curb her ugly temper."

"I really don't now why I continue to see you," she said, stretching landuidly under the sheets.

Deep laughter rumbled from his chest as Jevon plucked the pillow from the carpet, tossed it in the air and batted it smoothly into a chair. "You couldn't bear causing my death, love. And you know I'd die of a broken heart if you left me."

"Broken heart? You? My dear man, you need a heart for it to break. You don't happen to have that human failing."

He grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his hot gaze. "I'm all too human in some ways, sweet."

An answering heat flared in her emerald eyes and she ran her tongue over swollen lips.

He chuckled. "Such wicked imaginings, my own. And so easy to read." He bestowed a kiss on the tip of her nose and spun away from her. "Up. Things need doing."

"I should say," she murmured, sending a shiver through him.

That cinched it. The woman belonged to him, and damned if he wasn't going to keep her. That grasping, wastrel of a husband be damned to hell, one way or another. he'd see to that when he finished his current business. Just see if he didn't.

Jevon scooped her up, sheet and all, and settled her on her feet with a sound slap on her silk covered bottom. "Come now, love. Don't be tedious."

"You really are a brute this afternoon, Jev."

"You think?" Jevon glided toward the closet, plunged a careless hand into the wardrobe's dark recesses and plucked a black silk shirt from the hanger. "Got troubles on my mind."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Money, you mean?" He laughed his dark laugh. "Got plenty of my own."

"Jev, tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me."

He sighed. "Got a call I wasn't expecting. Too soon after the last one. Don't like taking high-security cases too close together."

"You accepted a case."

"No choice. Seems to be a favor."

"You're going out on a case....now?"

The warm glow faded from his eyes and he stared blankly at her from behind his barriers. "I said I was, didn't I?"

"But.." Her eyes dropped to trembling hands. "Where are you going, Jev?"

He exhaled noisily, shaking his head.

"Oh, please. Won't you tell me?"

"Best not."

She glided toward him, making sure to keep the black silk secured over her body. It pleased him that she didn't try using her body to entice his secrets from him.

"Do you have to go?"

Jevon shrugged. "Client's waiting."

"Send someone else." she whispered, "We've only had a little time."

Send one of the detectives who worked for him? Not hardly. Not for one of his special clients. It would be...unhealthy.

"I told you, it's a high-security call. Delicate. For the boss only."

She moved back to the bed and curlled up, resting her chin on her arm while her brilliant gaze roamed over him. "It'll be dangerous?"

"Questions? When we began, you were warned against asking questions about my work." He smiled then, taking the hurt of his words. "No more worries, Manda. I'll be fine."

"I can wait here for you. If you're not leaving the city...."she offered, her soft voice trembling.

Jevon crooked a curious brow.

"He..." she ducked her head. "He's away on business for the day."

His eyes flared darkly as he stepped into black jeans that hugged his lean hips like a second skin. "Go home, Manda."

"Jev..."

He inserted a key into a locked drawer and twisted. "Your husband might call."

A soft whimpering escaped her pale lips.

"Ah, Jesus," he whispered, scooping her into his arms. "I didn't mean it, sweet. I swear."

"My fault." She hid her face in the hollow of his shoulder, nuzzling his neck. "I shouldn't have pushed."

Easing her back in his loose embrace, he meet her gaze and smiled. "No, you shouldn't have. And I shouldn't have snapped." He sighed. "I don't have time for this, Manda. I really have to go. Understand. I wish I could stay, but I really have to leave."

"I know," she said, stepping out of his arms. "Call me?"

"Never doubt it."

Reaching into the opened draw, he pulled out a shoulder holster and shrugged into it. A second forage brought forth a police issue revolver. He checked the rounds andslid the gun into place.

Once more into the drawer revealed a nasty looking, serrated hunting knife, complete with a sheath he strappd onto his forearm. He eased the blade in and out, testing the delivery into his hand.

Finally ready to leave, he turned back to Manda and read the fear in her.

The fear that slammed into his gut so hard that it stunned him.

She was the good part of his life, but he had a dark side, too. A killing side. A side he could never reveal to her, and in theat moment he almost set her free... Would have set her free....

"How much danger are you walking into?" she blurted out, then clamped her hand over her mouth.

And he knew he'd die before he ever let her go.

"No more than any other time I've met with a special client."

After all, he was the main danger during these confabs, not the clients. He was the one who would get his hands dirty...so they could pretend they had no part in the destruction. "It's the biz, Manda. You knew that coming in."

"I knew you were a detective, Jev," she whispered, "I try not to think of the danger. Her frightened gaze skidded over him. "Jevon, you never leave this apartment without carrying an arsenal. It's hard."

Indulgent amusement sparkled in his eyes. "It's still the biz, sweet," he minimized, shrugging into his favorite black leather jacket and adjusting the drape to conceal the weapons he carried.

He dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Thanks for caring, Manda. Now, go home. I'll call when I get back into town."

"So you are leaving town, then?"

He hesitated. "If I take the case, perhaps. In any event, I don't know how long I'll be, and I don't want to be responsible for any more of those." He gently tugged the sheet down her arm and kissed the ugly purple and green bruises forming a garish design on her alabaster skin.

She ducked her head. "He doesn't know his strength."

Jevon forced her to meet his gaze with a gentle finger under her chin. "He knows, Manda. He knows."

********************

Dragging mirrored glasses down his elegant nose, Jevon surveyed the weathered country church and grounds.

Quiet. Too quiet? Time would tell.

He unfolded from the car and, stretching his arms high above his head, cast his lazy glance in all directions, searching and finding nothing to alert him to danger.

Dropping his arms, he gave his shoulders a shake, and wandered with no apparent direction around the church yard. His shielded gaze covered the area, taking in each minute detail, and organizing an escape route in case the meet went sour.

His leisurely stroll led him finally back to the church steps and he leaned against the roughened railing. His searching glance traveled up and down the gravel road.

As far he could tell, he was quite alone.

"Okay, personal favor....this better be worth it." He climbed the steps and pushed open the double doors, pausing there while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting

The client was slumped forward in a pew midway up the room, a ragged hat rammed down over his face, the collar of his coat pulled up to conceal the heavy jaw and not doing a very good job of it.

"Amateurs..." Jevon grumbled, striding silently down the hardwood floor. "Gonna be the death of me, I just know it."

Settling into place behind the way too obvious man, Jevon snatched the rumpled hat away and flipped it onto the pew. "Fold down that bleeding collar, fool. You trying to broadcast you're not doing what's exactly nice? And if you complete that turn, you're not gonna like the end results."

"Preacher?" Silence. "You him? Preacher, I mean?"

Jevon rested long-fingered hands at the base of the man's neck, letting him know his danger. "Who sent you?"

Jevon could feel a wild trembling rush through the chunky, little man. Knew he'd frightened him witless. He leaned closer, tightening his hold ever so very slightly. "Who sent you?"

"Comeu....." the man stammered. "Link Comeu. He claimed Preacher was the best man for what I need done."

"That's either a good guess or you are indeed the man I am here to see," He let his breath slither over the man's neck. "Scared?"

A gratifying shiver shot through the body under his hard fingers.

"Of course not," the man denied.

Jevon's low laugh broke the still air and he leaned back in his own pew. "It's your money. Talk."

The man fumbled in his briefcase, then handed an over-stuffed manila envelope over his shoulder. "All the information you need is here."

Jevon stared, unmoving, at the envelope.

"Here. Take it," the man insisted, turning his head sightly.

Jevon shot forward, grabbing the man's head between cruel hands, forcing him to face front, exerting just enough pressure to make him know he meant what he said. "You see my face, friend, and it's the last thing you ever see."

Trembling rippled under his fingers and Jevon laughed. "Yes, you understand."

"But the money is in...."

Jevon snatched the offensive envelope from the man's shaking hand and dropped it on the pew beside him without looking at it. "I don't take an assignment without a damn good reason. What's your reason for wanting the touch?"

"My...My reasons?" The man wiped a rumpled kerchief over his forehead. "I wasn't told I'd have to explain. Just that I was to bring the money. Two mill for each. There is four million in that envelope your tossing around like it were lunch change."

"You want the best, you pay a high fee" Jevon leaned close once more, his breath raking over the man's skin. "I am sitting here waiting for your reason."

"Don't like the way this thing is going, mist...."

Jevon's fingers found a point in the folds of the man's neck, causing him more than a little discomfort. "Talk to me."

"Okay. Okay. Stop, I'm ready to talk."

Jevon patted the man's shoulder. "Make it good. I wouldn't want to think you'd waste my time. I'll have you know, you interrupted what was turning out to be a very enjoyable afternoon. Who you want terminated?"

"My bitch of a wife. And her lover. They've become inconvenient to my position."

"And you think a spot of murder is your best recourse?" Jevon jeered. "Drastic, what with divorce being the accepted practice for getting shed of an unwanted mate."

Another swipe of the kerchief. "Can't divorce the bitch." He slouched forward. "Amanda controls the purse strings. Know what I mean? Giving her the divorce she asked for would be tantamount to cutting my own throat."

Amanda?

Jevon felt the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. "Your wife's name is Amanda?"

Jevon snatched up the manila envelope and tipped the photographs into his hand.

He had to admit he took a damn fine picture, and Manda was an angel on his arm.

"Yeah, Amanda. A real looker, too," the man was saying. "Ordinarily I wouldn't make a fuss. She's always been discreet, know what I mean? A real lady tramp. But this man's different, see? She wants a divorce. Be with him." He snorted. "As if I'd let her go and take all theat lovely money with her. I'd be ruined."

Jevon leaned in on the man. "You have a name for this man?"

The client shrugged. "Her lover, nah. Couldn't pin it down, but I did manage to get an uptown address on him. The guy's apparently silent owner of a big wig P.I agency. Hides his name behind a kazillion false company names. Can you beat that? Amanda with a private investigator."

Judas preist. This damn man had actually tracked him down to his office. Hell, he really had to be slipping. "Imagine that. You find that out all by yourself or have somebody do it for you?"

The man sat taller, secure in false pride. "I followed her to his place. Watched them together for half a day. That's where I got the pictures."

Jevon glanced down at the pictures and grinned as he remembered that particular day. He'd taken Manda for a long, quiet walk through the park. Ended the day with a picnic under the shade of a giant oak. A fun day. Free of worry.

A day to get sloppy.

"No one else knows about your wife's indiscretion?"

"Just you and me. Do you think I want strangers knowing the kind of woman I married?"

"What about the negatives? You've destroyed all trace of these pictures?"

"Damn right I did," he retorted. "Can't have them laying around for some snooping maid to find."

Jevon patted the man's shoulder. "You've done a good job covering this mess up. But you came to me. How do you know I can be trusted?"

"You have as much to lose as I do if all this came out. Just talking to me about this is a crime. With you being an assassin, I don't think you'd risk saying anything." He laughed nervously, jerking at his collar. "When it comes to it, you have more to lose than I do. There might be
outstanding warrents...unsolved cases...the like that could could come out."

Cobra-fast, Jevon wrapped his long fingers around the man's throat and squeezed. "That sounds dangerously like a threat, friend."

Fat, flaccid fingers fluttered uselessly, plucking at Jevon's relentless crushing grip. "It wasn't a threat, I swear."

Jevon chuckled, loosening his hold just enough to give the man an easier time of breathing. "You are smart, London. I'll give you that. Too damn smart," he whispered. "Too bad."

"How...How did you know my name? I was told no names were exchanged."

Jevon caught a handful of the man's hair, jerking London to his feet, spining him around. "You just made of hell of a mistake, London. Recognize anyone?"

London blanched, his eyes darting to the spilled pictures and back to the man who held him in his deadly embrace. "Jesus God."

"Name's Jevon, mate."

The knife slithered out of its sheath.

London's muddy eyes bugged. "Please...."

Jevon dragged the blade across London's cheek, leaving a red streak. "You keep making mistakes, London. Bad ones." A hungry, predator's smile flashed. "You saw Preacher's face, man. But worse, you hurt Preacher's lady. Hurt her dirty."

"I'll give you anything. Just let me go."

Jevon shook his head. "For what it's worth, I'd already planned your elimination once this contract was filled, London, so you realize this hit is more than an idle whim." The knife passed over London's other cheek. "Manda will make a delightful widow, don't you think?"

"Oh, God, please...."

"That's the biz, London."

The knife slashed, severing London's throat. Blood sprayed over London's topcoat, staining it bright red.

"Damn," Jevon grumbled, watching his own expensive leather jacket absorb the gushing blood. "Dammit, I really liked this jacket, too."

Nothing for it, now. Just get a new one before heading home. No sense letting blood stains upset his lady.

Sighing, he eased the dead man down on the pew and tipped the lolling head forward to conceal the gaping wound.

Working fast now, he cleaned the blade of his knife on the coat sleeve before sliding it safely home. A quick search of the body removed any identifying information and confirmed that the man had carried nothing that would point to this fatal meeting.

Standing back a bit, like an artist surveying his canvas, Jevon ran his glance over the body, assuring himself that the man appeared to be in private council with his god.

Finally pleased with his handiwork, Jevon picked up the overflowing manila envelope and bundled the incriminating pictures back into the package. Manda would enjoy the pictures. She'd always wanted a few. And the money was hers anyway. He'd be sure to see it was lavished on her.

Chuckling, he stuffed the envelope into his hip pocket and strode from the church, whistling a vague little tune.

Back at his car, he stripped of the ruined jacket and frowned. Pity he'd had to mess it up. "That's the biz, Jev, old mate. Deal with it," he told himself, reaching into the backseat for a black garbage bag. He stuffed the jacket in and followed it with the blood spattered driving
glove, tying it off and tossing it back in.

Someone would be around to pick it up once he got home.

His predatory smile ghosted over full lips as he glided the sleek car back onto the country road and sped back toward the city. Grabbing his cellular, he dialed a number and listened while the call was routed and re-routed.

"Preacher?"

"Yeah."

"Report."

"Package has been dispatched."

"Need anything on this end?"

"Yeah. Send a cleaner. Afraid the delivery got a little...messy."

A moment's silence. "On the way."

"Good. About the favor?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. It never happened." Another pause. "You're on leave, Preacher. No more.... inconveniences for a week."

"Yes, sir. And thanks again," he cut the connection, whistling a tuneless ditty.

Manda would be getting a call soon, now. She'd be needing his strong, suppporting arms real soon now.

Inconvenience be damned.

END