side of the vehicle and turned on the headlights so they shone in Nick’s face. “Stay there,” he commanded.
His partner approached Nick. As he patted him down, all Nick could think was what a stupid choice a windbreaker was for a person who was supposed to be silent and deadly. The slippery noise the nylon material made suddenly seemed incredibly hilarious. Nick was on the verge of bursting out laughing, his anxiety exhibiting as inconvenient hilarity.
He swallowed the impulse and held perfectly still as the man with the pitted face and thin moustache frisked him, then announced to his partner, “He’s clean.”
Nick had left the gun with Ames, even though she’d made it clear she didn’t want to use it. He was going to let them pat him down, and there was no point in getting it taken away from him.
“Where’s Bert?” he asked, increasingly certain these two had nothing to do with his one-time pal.
“Don’t know. We’re here for Mr. Esposito.” The big guy stressed the word “mister” as if Bert hadn’t earned the right to the title. The man’s tone suggested Bert wasn’t part of the senior Esposito’s inner circle. Nick’s stomach churned. If Bert had no authority to deal with Nick, then all bets were off.
“What does Mr. Esposito want?” Nick played for time as he pictured Cesar, the head of the clan. He hadn’t seen the guy in the flesh for years, but his photo had been featured in a news story when he’d been arraigned for a racketeering charge, which was later dropped. Cesar Esposito was a very average-looking man. No expensive clothes or gold chains. In fact, in the photo taken as he was ushered into the courthouse, he looked more like a gardener than a crime boss.
“You,” Windbreaker answered. “And Elliot Jensen.”
“I don’t have any idea where Jensen is. Like I told Bert”—and he’d tried to tell the other guy he’d encountered at Elliot’s house. Nick swallowed, and went on—“I’m not Elliot Jensen’s accomplice, just collateral damage. His trail led Bert to me, and Bert gave me the go-ahead to track Elliot and recover what he took. I’m trying to do that.”
Nick felt like he was throwing stones into a pond that refused to ripple. These guys stared at him blank-faced, as if they couldn’t care less about his story. They had a job to do. He was it.
Refrigerator waved his pistol. “Get in the car. You can explain all this to Mr. Esposito back in New York.”
“You’re not hearing me. I have some of the stuff—the accounting information and part of the money. I found it, but I’ve hidden it. I’ve got to have some kind of leverage. Besides, I’m negotiating with Bert on this issue.”
“In this matter, Bert Esposito is irrelevant,” Windbreaker said. “Give us the packet—all of it—and maybe Mr. Esposito will be lenient.”
The Fridge screwed up his face as if he smelled something off. “He still has to come with us. Him and the packet both.”
Windbreaker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course.”
They all froze as, from around the bend came the sound of an approaching car. Then the crunch of gravel and the growl of the engine abruptly went silent.
He wondered if it was possible Ames had ignored his warning to stay put. Yeah, he just bet she’d heard the car and run toward it for help. And who drove that car?
Speaking of Mr. Irrelevant, here comes Bert.
“Who’s that?” demanded Windbreaker.
Nick shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Did you call the police?”
He considered lying but decided not to bother. These guys seemed to be getting nervous, and keeping them calm was a priority. “Nope.”
The big guy went to the car and turned off the headlights. The gray light of dawn hadn’t changed or brightened much and probably wouldn’t. It was going to be a cloudy day.
“Why’d you do that? I can’t see a goddamn thing. No goddamn streetlights,” Windbreaker grumbled.
Nick felt a wave of sympathetic agreement.
The other guy told him to shut up. He looked at Nick and tucked the gun away. “We don’t want a situation. You got that, Rossi? Whoever this is, we’re going to act normal. We’re going fishing or something, understand?”
“Sure.” Nick couldn’t help smiling at the thought of these two holding fishing poles. The Refrigerator grabbed Nick’s arm and hauled him to stand in front of them.
“I got a hand on the gun. Whoever this is better not be too interested, understand? We don’t want to clean up a big mess, but I will if I