Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,67

for something.

Ricardo got up and came into the kitchen, his drink in hand. “So, that’s it?”

August stood, still holding the door open. “Hmm?”

“That’s it? Did the two of you watch a movie or something?”

“What? No.” Snorting with amusement, August pulled a bottle of some snobby microbrew from the fridge, and Ricardo refused to notice the way those slacks and that waistcoat accentuated his frame as he used his hip to shut the door. Mercifully unaware of Ricardo’s brief distraction, August uncapped the bottle and took a pull. “I was only there for like ten minutes at most.”

Ricardo inclined his head. “Oh, really?”

“Mmhmm.” August took another drink, then put the beer aside and started unbuttoning his waistcoat. “What did you expect me to do? Have a seven-course meal with him?” He tsked. “I’d have shot myself.”

“But you were gone for”—he glanced at the clock on the stove—“over six hours. Where the fuck were you?”

August eyed him, and then an infuriatingly smug grin materialized on his lips. “Ricardo. Darling.” He hooked a finger in his necktie, and as he slid it free, he said, “Were you…worried about me?”

With a groan, Ricardo rolled his eyes. “I was concerned about our—”

“You were worried about me!” August put a hand to his heart and with the other, wiped away an imaginary tear. “I’m touched.”

“Would you focus on the situation at hand? Just for a minute? Where the fuck were you?”

“Ugh. I told you. The dealership gave me grief about the car.” August actually turned moderately serious, though Augustus was definitely still showing through. “But when I left after seeing Silva, I realized one of his boys was tailing me. I couldn’t risk going back to the dealership and driving erratically to shake them would be a red flag.”

“So…” Ricardo cocked his head. “Where did you go?”

August gestured at the bags. “Shopping.”

Ricardo blinked. “You went… You went shopping.”

“Well, yes.” August took another swallow of beer and put the bottle aside again. “What better way to convince a bunch of goons that I have more money than brains than to go blow my wad all over town?”

“What better way to convince them you have no sense of self-preservation?”

“Ah. But you see…” He held up a finger and looked so smug it was tempting to reach for that gun on the end table again. “They don’t know that I know I’m a target. All they know is that I demanded an audience with Pedro Silva, acted like a pompous ass to everyone I came in contact with, and then left in a flashy, expensive car. Silva probably sent them after me to make sure I didn’t go meet up with some handler to take off my wire. My lack of self-preservation meant I’m not a threat, just a rich twat with an ego.”

Ricardo…was actually impressed. Sometimes August struck him as a careless idiot living in la-la-land, but then he had to remind himself that stupid hitmen didn’t last very long. A certain amount of cunning and thinking like the enemy were job requirements if you didn’t want to die or wind up in prison. But still, August’s idea to lead a tail around until they finally got bored, decided he wasn’t working with law enforcement, and left? That was smart. Really fucking smart.

“So that’s why I was gone longer than I anticipated.” August was characteristically smug and not the least bit apologetic. “What can I say? They found me fascinating and followed me to five different places. And then of course the dealership got pissy that I took the car for so long, and that took forever to sort out, and…” He rolled his hand. “Anyway, it took a while. But I’m back, and now we just have to wait for Silva’s guy to make contact.”

“And you think he bought it?”

“Oh, totally. When I told him you were the mark, he practically said ‘well why didn’t you say so?’ and offered to go in halfsies with me.” August arched an eyebrow. “What did you do to piss him off, anyway?”

Ricardo rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it is.” August came a little closer, gaze locked on Ricardo. “And we’ve got plenty of time, so feel free to tell me.” He grinned again. “Unless you have some other thoughts about how to kill a few hours.”

“How to—” Ricardo exhaled sharply. “Yeah, no. If I want to pass the time, I’ll put on a football game.”

“Pfft. Oh come on.” He was right up in Ricardo’s space now, eyes