fat head bounced and rolled across the concrete. Left knee hummed when I bent to pick it up, wanted to go south. That pain, too much alcohol, and not enough sleep made me feel my age in a bad way.
Footsteps echoed in the musty garage.
I stood tall like a bear and turned around.
They were in the shadows, watching me. The lion and the jackal.
Lisa’s bullyboys were twenty yards away, leaning against different cars, both smoking and chilling out like they were waiting on a bus. I made a couple of steps in their direction, my expression asking them to bring it on. The lion flicked his smoke my way, did an about-face, headed deeper into the garage. The jackal did the same, smoke pluming around his head.
They walked away fast, but not too fast. They knew I couldn’t follow them, not now.
I watched them until they were completely gone, until their smoke had dissipated.
My angry lungs reminded me to breathe again.
I tossed the bobblehead to the curb, zipped the bag up, and got inside the sedan. That was when I saw a sheet of paper underneath the windshield wiper.
I grabbed it.
It was a newspaper article. Months old. About a man who was tortured and murdered, his killers never found. They’d left that under my windshield wiper like it was their business card.
My stomach turned like peroxide and baking soda was mixing up inside me.
Should’ve gone after those bastards. But it was two against one. Ten years ago, hell maybe even five years back, I would’ve said that was cool, bring it on, and would’ve gone King Kong on those niggas and beat both of those motherfuckers into the pavement.
This sit-down job had softened me, made me stiff over the last six months. My body told me I was forty every chance it got. I could fuck twice as strong but might not be able to fight half as long. Right now the odds were in a young man’s favor.
I punched in Lisa’s cellular number. This time she clicked her phone on, but she didn’t say a word. I snapped her name. She hung up. I called back. It went straight to voice mail.
She had shut me out.
I called Wolf’s office.
Wolf answered. “Thought you’d be on the way to Santa Monica by now.”
The CEO was at his office computer, looking at the high-tech tracker on his cars. This sedan was a red blip on Wolf’s computer screen. Lisa could find me with the click of a mouse.
Wolf asked, “How is this Freeman cat?”
The black Expedition appeared in my rearview, fucking with me. I ran my tongue around my mouth, kept my eyes on them. I told Wolf, “Freeman’s ego might not fit in the car.”
Wolf blew air.
I said, “She broke out an itinerary. Thought this was just a drop-off.”
“Grit your teeth and kiss ass until the check clears. What she gave you the schedule?”
Right now I craved a shot of Jack. I said, “His fiancée is with him.”
“Heard about her from New York. Nigerian. Her parents are diplomats. Speaks a dozen languages. Rumor is her folks are class-conscious and not too crazy about her choice in men.”
“You know a lot.”
“I like to know who’s farting on my backseats.”
The lion posted up next to me. He nodded my way, smiled like we were friends, maybe telling me we’d get to know each other better, real soon. They drove away, forty thousand dollars worth of rims going in circles. I eased back and put my eyes on their license plate.
I asked Wolf, “Nobody’s available to do a handoff?”
“Everybody’s out.”
The Expedition vanished in traffic. My sweaty hands strangled the steering wheel.
Wolf stopped me from hanging up. “Nation next to Egypt. Five letters. Third is a B.”
Doing a crossword puzzle was the last thing on my mind. “Kenya. No, wait. Libya.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Wolf ...”
“Yeah?”
“We need to talk. Man to man. You have time for a sit-down later on this evening?”
“Driver, I really need you to handle Freeman.”
“This ain’t ... this ain’t got nothing to do with Freeman.”
That caught him off guard. “Have to deal with my kids. What’s going on?”
I wanted to tell Wolf about the shit Lisa had done right then. Wanted to open my mouth and let it all spill out. Almost did. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you told a man over the phone. That would be a punk move. Had to look him in his face. Maybe between now and then I’d figure