I was sitting on my phone and it vibrated against my ass.
Not taking my eyes from the room, I pulled it out, flipped it open and put it to my ear.
“Yeah?”
“Law?” Sniff said and he didn’t sound right.
My back went straight. “Sniff?”
“Law… shit. Law, he’ll kill me if he knows I told you but… Roam…”
I was already standing, my body tense, my mind wired.
“Tell me, Sniff,” I demanded, hitching the strap of my black purse over my shoulder.
“He’s been talkin’ lately, got this idea to help you out,” Sniff told me.
Fuck!
I was worried that something like this would happen.
“You with him?” I asked, moving through the bar, keeping people between Tucker, his dealer and me.
“Watchin’ him. Law, shit… he’s gonna kill me.”
“Where are you?”
“He’s followin’ someone. I’m followin’ him. Goin’ down Speer Boulevard bike path, close to Logan.”
“Which side are you on?”
“South side.”
“What direction are you headed?”
“West, shit Law.”
He sounded scared.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. You stick to him, Sniff, but do not get near. Do you hear me? Something happens, you don’t call me, you call the police. Got me?”
“Law, can’t call the cops.”
“You think something’s gonna go down, you get out of there and call 911. Promise me.”
“Law, I call the cops, Roam’d never talk to me again.”
“Promise me, Sniff.”
I was at the Camaro and Sniff hesitated.
Then he said, “Fuck. I promise.”
“I’ll be there in ten,” I told him. “And don’t say f**k.”
I swung myself behind Hazel’s wheel, started her up and drove like a madwoman. I parked in the Fox TV station lot, pulled my mace out and shoved it in my front pocket, shoved my gun in the back waistband of my jeans and held my stun gun in my hand. I got out, locked up and pocketed the keys.
I crossed Speer, which wasn’t easy; it was a busy, three-lane street, even late at night. Then I headed to the bike path, keeping my eyes open.