replayed the incident in his mind. Maybe the guy had been slightly nervous, but only slightly. Mostly he’d seemed like a blank. The only thing Roy had really noticed about him was that he was tall and had pretty broad shoulders. That and the mole on his face.
Wait.
“What did he say his name was?” Roy asked.
“Eddie. Why?”
“Eddie what?”
“We didn’t get to that part because you barged in. We had just settled on a price and I was getting going on the paperwork.” Mark shrugged. "Probably some name with a dozen vowels I couldn't pronounce anyway. Who cares? The point is he was a mark in a bind and he had a ton of cash."
"Ain't you a charmer."
"Shut up. I had him."
Roy shook his head slightly. He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. “He give you an ID or anything?”
Mark shook his head, though he seemed to be loosening up a bit. The shock of the lost sale—or shakedown—was fading. “No. We didn’t get there. Like I said we'd just come to a price.”
"But did he have an ID?"
"Roy, I don't know!" Mark yelled. "Quit fucking asking me. I'm pissed off enough about it as it is."
He huffed a deep breath, took the papers on the desk and tossed them in the recycler.
"Now what was it you came here for anyway?" he asked. "You just need a car?"
Roy’s heart pounded. It was Tatum, he just knew it. “You see which way he went?”
Mark shook his head, then looked up at the ceiling. “No," he said, his voice tired. "What the fuck’s the matter with you?”
But Roy turned and sprinted out the door, out of the lot and all the way to the street corner. His head swiveled around, scanning the sidewalk. Faces, forms, a few people, cars passing by with the wheels crunching the gravel underneath.
His throat closed as his nostrils flared. That had been Tatum. Had he let the bastard slip through his fingers again? There was nobody and nothing on the sidewalk that resembled the man he’d just seen.
Fuck.
Grudgingly, he turned from the corner and trudged across the car lot into the office. He needed a car. A base of operations, basically. If it came to bolting, he needed to be on the highway and out in the sticks as quickly as possible. Untraceable. With the cameras around train stations, the only way he could do that was with a car.
Before he ran, though, he wanted to give this job one more shot. See if he could come through and save his ass in this city. If he came up with the goods the boss wanted, everything would be forgiven. The worst case was if he got caught before he could come in on his own terms.
Mark was standing at the door, watching him as he approached. The little man’s eyes were flashing with anger.
“Roy, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Mark asked. “You’re acting crazy, man.”
Roy shook his head. He’d known Mark for years, since they used to get into trouble together in high school. They’d been on the wrestling team together, though Mark had been a lot smaller then. Five weight-classes lower than Roy. They probably weighed just about the same now. Different kinds of weight.
Roy provided muscle sometimes for Mark when people needed convincing about whether they had just screwed the dealership one way or another. Suppliers, sellers, even city officials if it came to that.
Mark was hooked into some low level shit. Most of it was through Roy, but not all. None of it had anything to do with the boss.
“Listen, Mark,” Roy started, coming to a stop in front of the door. “I need an orphan. Fast. Can you do that for me?”
The anger on Mark’s face softened quickly, like butter melted in a microwave running on High. “Jesus, Roy, you’re really in some shit, aren’t you?”
"Yeah. And there's something else."
"Something else?"
"Yeah," Roy said. He took a deep breath and forced a half-smile onto his face, even though the last thing in the world he felt like doing is smiling. "Call it a contingency."
***
Kristina watched Landon walk out of the apartment
Wait.
“What did he say his name was?” Roy asked.
“Eddie. Why?”
“Eddie what?”
“We didn’t get to that part because you barged in. We had just settled on a price and I was getting going on the paperwork.” Mark shrugged. "Probably some name with a dozen vowels I couldn't pronounce anyway. Who cares? The point is he was a mark in a bind and he had a ton of cash."
"Ain't you a charmer."
"Shut up. I had him."
Roy shook his head slightly. He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. “He give you an ID or anything?”
Mark shook his head, though he seemed to be loosening up a bit. The shock of the lost sale—or shakedown—was fading. “No. We didn’t get there. Like I said we'd just come to a price.”
"But did he have an ID?"
"Roy, I don't know!" Mark yelled. "Quit fucking asking me. I'm pissed off enough about it as it is."
He huffed a deep breath, took the papers on the desk and tossed them in the recycler.
"Now what was it you came here for anyway?" he asked. "You just need a car?"
Roy’s heart pounded. It was Tatum, he just knew it. “You see which way he went?”
Mark shook his head, then looked up at the ceiling. “No," he said, his voice tired. "What the fuck’s the matter with you?”
But Roy turned and sprinted out the door, out of the lot and all the way to the street corner. His head swiveled around, scanning the sidewalk. Faces, forms, a few people, cars passing by with the wheels crunching the gravel underneath.
His throat closed as his nostrils flared. That had been Tatum. Had he let the bastard slip through his fingers again? There was nobody and nothing on the sidewalk that resembled the man he’d just seen.
Fuck.
Grudgingly, he turned from the corner and trudged across the car lot into the office. He needed a car. A base of operations, basically. If it came to bolting, he needed to be on the highway and out in the sticks as quickly as possible. Untraceable. With the cameras around train stations, the only way he could do that was with a car.
Before he ran, though, he wanted to give this job one more shot. See if he could come through and save his ass in this city. If he came up with the goods the boss wanted, everything would be forgiven. The worst case was if he got caught before he could come in on his own terms.
Mark was standing at the door, watching him as he approached. The little man’s eyes were flashing with anger.
“Roy, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Mark asked. “You’re acting crazy, man.”
Roy shook his head. He’d known Mark for years, since they used to get into trouble together in high school. They’d been on the wrestling team together, though Mark had been a lot smaller then. Five weight-classes lower than Roy. They probably weighed just about the same now. Different kinds of weight.
Roy provided muscle sometimes for Mark when people needed convincing about whether they had just screwed the dealership one way or another. Suppliers, sellers, even city officials if it came to that.
Mark was hooked into some low level shit. Most of it was through Roy, but not all. None of it had anything to do with the boss.
“Listen, Mark,” Roy started, coming to a stop in front of the door. “I need an orphan. Fast. Can you do that for me?”
The anger on Mark’s face softened quickly, like butter melted in a microwave running on High. “Jesus, Roy, you’re really in some shit, aren’t you?”
"Yeah. And there's something else."
"Something else?"
"Yeah," Roy said. He took a deep breath and forced a half-smile onto his face, even though the last thing in the world he felt like doing is smiling. "Call it a contingency."
***
Kristina watched Landon walk out of the apartment
Similar Books
