have to.”
Nick wished he’d stop ending sentences with “understand?” He nodded.
Three figures walked over the hill as if they were taking a morning stroll. One was a bald guy who probably played high school football twenty years ago, a familiar face. Another was Bert, well-dressed and darkly handsome as ever, although he did seem a little fatter than the last time Nick had seen him. The third person was Ames. Nick’s heart stuttered in fear. He might be glad to see the first two but not Ames. She was not part of this.
He called, “Good morning, Ms.”—and just in time remembered her last name was the same as Elliot’s—“Peterkins.”
She walked next to Bert, and there was at least two feet between them. The football player was on Bert’s other side. No one held a weapon on Ames. He twisted to face the Refrigerator and in a low voice said, “Before we do any more talking, just let the woman go, okay? You want to keep this whole thing quiet, and that means keeping out the locals. This is a small town, and she’s well known, so if anything happens to her, there’ll be big trouble.”
The Fridge paid no attention to him. He tucked his gun away but looked at Bert and muttered, “What the fuck?”
Windbreaker stepped away from their little group. He held the Glock behind his back. Nick was thoroughly sick of guns.
“Bert!” Windbreaker waved with his free hand. “Glad to see you. Didn’t know you were around these parts.”
All friends here.
Windbreaker stood in front of Nick but wasn’t so tall that Nick couldn’t see Bert wave back, a big smile on his bland, smooth face. Nick had seen that cold shark’s smile before and knew Bert was furious.
Odd that the clashes between Bert and his old man hadn’t settled down by now. They had a lot of typical dad-and-son issues—with the bonus of extra menace. Then Nick remembered Bert wasn’t the hothead of the pair, and so the end of teenage years wouldn’t have resolved power struggles.
And here he and Ames stood, literally in the middle.
The other group of three came to an abrupt halt next to the big SUV. Bert’s man, a guy with a shaved head and mashed nose—Nick couldn’t recall if his name was Ducky or Duffy —stared over at them. There was enough light to see that he and Windbreaker immediately began a stare-down. Nick could tell the rivalry was nothing new.
“Yo, Phil.” He nodded in the general direction of Phil the Fridge’s hidden gun. Bert slipped his hand into his jacket pocket sending a clear message of I got one too.
Bert continued. “So, Phil, Les—what the hell you two doing here? Didn’t my father tell you I was on it?” His voice was calm, interested rather than angry.
“Hey, what do we know?” Les, aka Windbreaker, gave a nylon-whispering shrug. “Mr. Esposito is kinda worried about this situation. He didn’t like what was going on with people trying to push him around, and the missing material is—”
Nick interrupted. “Thanks for stopping by, Miss Peters, but I guess you can go on and finish your walk. Nice morning for it.”
“I thought you said she was Peterkins.”
Nick ignored Phil. He looked into her pale face, willing her to turn and just walk away. The situation hadn’t gotten to that sizzling point of no return. No one here would shoot her without at least shouting some kind of warning. He was almost sure of it.
He spoke in a loud, deliberately aggressive voice. “Listen, you guys don’t need her. I found what you want. It’s inside. So how about we let her go on and finish her stroll.”
Phil said, “She can stick around until we’re done. I’ll leave Les to watch her.”
Les growled. “Who the hell gets to decide that one?”
“She’s not going anywhere.” Bert’s smile stretched wider, showing those too-white teeth, this time aimed at Nick. “You forget, I saw Ms. Jensen’s face on Facebook.”
Oh, shit.
Nick had to keep his cool. He returned Bert’s smile with warmth added. “Can’t blame me for trying. She has no idea what’s going on, and I accidentally dragged her into this idiocy.”
“Idiocy, yeah,” Bert agreed.
The linebacker behind him shifted his weight, crossed his arms. Good. Still no gun at Ames’s back.
“Wait a fucking moment here. You called her Ms. Jensen. Like Elliot Jensen?” Phil started toward the SUV like he was going after Ames.
Nick tensed. Bert grabbed Ames’s arm and pulled her back so she stood next to the big bald