The room inside was dark and my nose caught the scent of cigarette smoke as soon as I'd closed the door behind me. I moved my hand under my shirt and onto the butt of the gun just as the night light next to the bed clicked on. I whipped out the pistol before I had gotten a firm grip on the handle and accidentally fumbled it across the floor toward Poppy, who sat in the chair next to the bed, cigarette in one hand, the cane in the other.

She raised her eyes from the gun. "That's not for me I hope. You forgot this," she said, tapping the cane on the floor.

The accumulated adrenalin coursing through my veins turned to anger as I stood there confused. "What the fuck are you doing here!" I shouted. "You scared the shit out of me. How did you know I'd be here?"

She stood up slowly and walked over to me, gracefully stepping over the gun. "You still don't understand how all this works do you?"

"What are you talking about? Why are you here?"

She crossed the room, crushed out the cigarette and placed the cane in my empty hand. "I'm here for vengeance," she said, looking into my eyes.

I stared back. "Vengeance? What have I done to deserve your vengeance?"

She laughed out loud. "Don't flatter yourself junior. My vengeance is not for you. In fact, I'm here to help you." She looked down at the guitar case. "Clever boy. Is it in there?"

"Is what in there?" I asked defensively.

Her face cracked into a sly smile. "How much did he offer you for it? One million? Two?" she asked as she moved closer to me, running her hand over the front of my pants.

"Two," I conceded.

"He certainly saw you coming." She unzipped my fly and slipped a hand inside in search of me. "He'll pay twenty," she whispered before lowering to her knees.

I gripped the dragon and dropped the case as she took me into her warm mouth. "Wha- What are you suggesting?"

She pulled off after a few seconds. "I think you'll like what I can do for you."

24

"Evan," she whispered as she shook my shoulder. "Evan, wake up. We need to go now."

It was Poppy. I hadn't dreamt her. "What time is it?"

"Almost morning," she said, slipping her high heeled shoes back on.

"Go where?"

"To make delivery," she said, before pointing to the unrolled painting laying on the floor in front of the open guitar case. "How were you supposed to make the drop?"

I slid to the edge of the bed. "At the docks, right after I'd finished."