The Enforcer - Kelli Callahan Page 0,48

it’ll be a problem. “Okay,” I say frowning at him. “I’m listening.”

“I want you to transport a package for me, from here,” he points down at his chair, “to the Idaho border. Drop it off at the St. Clair gas station at pump three at exactly 2:30 am two weeks from now.”

“Okay,” I say, with a frown. “What is it, the drugs?”

“Hey, I said no questions asked.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling then close them. Inhaling deeply, then exhaling, trying to remain calm.

“Alright, I’ll do it but only if you’re helpful. If you can’t answer my questions or I find out you’re lying,” I say, “then everything’s off.”

“Color me intrigued.” He leans forward his paisley tie hanging between us. “What do you need?”

Pulling out the picture from my chest pocket I show him the sketch. “This is the man that I’m looking for,” I say

“Huh,” he murmurs. “Why are you looking for him?”

“No questions asked, right?” I throw back at him.

He smiles slowly. “Right. So, you want to know if I’ve seen him, where I’ve seen him, who he is, blah blah blah?”

“Exactly.” I nod.

“Okay, well let’s see he comes in here pretty often, most nights, actually.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I ask.

“Damn right, comes every night. Up until a couple of days ago. He’s been gone the last two or three nights, but overall, I’m familiar with his face.”

“Okay,” I say. “That’s good.”

“Good for you. The man’s a pain in the ass.”

“How so?” I ask.

“Pushy, touchy with the girls, threw him out a time or two. But, well, business is business.”

“I see,” I whisper. “Does he ever talk about anything with you, about people in town?”

“No, not really.” He shrugs “Mostly comes and watches and gets too handsy after a couple of beers. But who doesn’t honestly?”

“What’s his name?” I ask.

“He told me his name was Mickey Callaghan.”

“Mickey Callaghan?” I ask. “Sounds Irish.”

“He might be, I can’t really say, either way, it’s hard to hear accents and all with the music here.”

I nod my head. “Okay. Do you know where he’s staying?”

“He had an apartment, I think, he was asking if he could bring one of the girls back with him. Of course, I told him no. What does this look like, a brothel?”

I roll my eyes, knowing that’s exactly what this is. “Staying anywhere else?” I ask.

“Probably squatting somewhere,” he answers with a shrug.

“Why do you think he’s squatting?” I asked.

“Because one of my dumb broads actually went back home with the sucker. She told me that it wasn’t an apartment at all. It was some kind of dump out in the woods somewhere. She couldn’t remember where, but, you know, all the same. Wasn’t that nice a place, nothing like what I got,” he says slowly.

“Uh huh. Sure,” I say. “‘Cuz you’re all class here.”

“Damn right! Don’t be getting lippy on me boy,” he snips pointing a finger at me, though he can’t be more than five years older than me.

“So it wasn’t an apartment, but he don’t go there anymore,” I say.

“Yep.”

“Alright. Got anything else for me?” I ask.

“He’s a skinny kid, but he’s fast.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I was pretty damn impressed with the way he had a go with my bouncer. So I asked. Yep. Strong and mean. Had to have led a hard life.

“Alright,” I say, “here’s my number,” I give him my cell, “send me a text if he comes tonight, and I’ll make sure that your package is taken care of.”

“You got it.” He grins.

Chapter Seventeen

Jake

It’s dawn, and I’m standing outside the police station pacing back and forth― my nervous habit at this point― and after the last few days with Diana, hell, it feels like nerves is all I am. What am I supposed to do though? I don’t have many options. It’s not like I can magically appear in front of the suspect’s home. Knock him around and make the world right again. God, if only life were that simple.

“Hey there, Jake,” Noah says, sliding off his motorcycle helmet as he walks over and shakes my hand.

“How was your night?” I ask, noticing the purple bags under his eyes.

“Hell of a night, and I could definitely use some coffee.”

“Think he’s got any in there?”

“No, not at a police station. It’s a possibility there is some actually in there but it won’t be any good.”

I shrug as we walk step by step together, up to the police station doors.

“At this point though, it feels like that shit is