Nate brought the tray with barbecue sandwiches, dessert, and fries over to where Sarah sat in the Blowin’ Smoke café. Her arms were folded on the table, and her head lay on top. Her ponytail hung over her shoulder, shifting as she breathed. He wanted to hold her on his lap, wrap her in his arms, and offer comfort. Instead, he said, “You need to eat.”
She lifted her head, and her red eyes proved she’d been trying not to cry. “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care.” He went to the counter for their chocolate shakes and put one down in front of her. “Drink this.”
“Did you talk to Calum?” She sat up and played with her straw.
“I did. He told me he doesn’t get involved with his sister’s business and that you should still go to Dessie’s to find a dress for tomorrow.”
“I don’t need a dress because I’m not going to the auction.” She sipped her shake. “And my dad?”
“Still in the ICU. No visitors allowed.”
She used her palms to wipe her cheeks before taking a bite of her sandwich. She cleaned her lips with a napkin but hid her grimace.
“You don’t like it?” He took a big bite as she scrunched her nose.
“It’s different. Like mustard and vinegar.”
“It’s North Carolina style.” He rubbed his mouth with a napkin and added, “Mine’s better though. I’ll make it for you.” He paused and took another bite. There’d be no time to make barbecue for her. Ever.
She touched his cheek with her hand, then ate her sandwich. “It’s good,” she said in between nibbles. “But why is the coleslaw on top?”
He drank his shake and waggled an eyebrow. He needed to improve the mood. “I thought you were from Savannah. Don’t you know anything about Southern cooking?”
“Nope.” She ate a fry. Then two more. “I grew up in Boston, and we hardly ever came home. I think it was too hard on my mom.” She sipped her shake before adding, “In New England, everything is roasted. To death.”
“Kells is from South Boston, and his idea of dinner is food cooked into submission.” Nate’s phone buzzed, and he read the message. “It’s Luke. I’ll take this outside. By the time I return, I want half that sandwich eaten.” He left the diner, answering, “Any word from Kells?”
“Nope. I’m still working on Etienne’s cell phone. Know anyone named Leroy?”
“No.” Nate checked his watch. It was almost eight p.m. “I’m eating now and will head to the club. Tell Zack to meet me there.”
“Will do. Any new info on our mission?”
“Not yet.” Nate moved off the sidewalk and waited until students in SCAD T-shirts passed by. “I’ve been thinking—our OPSEC sucks.”
“We don’t have operational security because we just moved in. I’m not sure that lock on the back door works. The rats are the only thing keeping out thugs.”
“That’s not an excuse.” The Fianna would never have allowed Sarah to wander into the Prince’s office and see maps on the wall. “We need cameras on our perimeter, a night watch, and an armory.” There were other things on Nate’s mental list, but he didn’t want to overly stress Luke.
“Dude, the first requires money, which we don’t have. The second requires men who aren’t working twenty hours a day in jobs they hate, which we also don’t have. And the third requires weapons. Again, which we don’t have.”
Nate frowned. “All of the men have a personal pistol. Pete has two. Ty probably does too. And there are knives floating around. I’d like a full accounting of guns, ammo, and any other weapons we have. Then we need a place to store them.”
“All of those weapons could fit in a drawer of a metal filing cabinet I’ve been emptying. The one that’s been there since Eisenhower was president.”
“Use that. And let the men know I want a list of all weapons and ammunition by tomorrow morning. Oh-eight-hundred hours.”
“Why the hurry? Oh, right. Sorry.”
Because by Sunday Nate was going to be on his way to Maine. “This is important, Luke. It’s my job as XO to make sure you all are as secure in this new situation as you can be.”
“Got it. I’ll let you know when I find anything else on the phone.”
Nate ended the call and went inside. Sarah hadn’t eaten her sandwich, but she’d not only polished off her dessert, she still had the spoon in her mouth. “Did you like the strawberry pie?”
She nodded and licked the utensil. “It was delicious.”
He sat and drank his chocolate shake, appreciating Sarah next to him, the taste of cold chocolate, and fries cooked in oil. He pushed over his piece of pie. “Eat mine.” Before she could fuss, he said, “No arguing, not about pie or sending in your report for that grant.”
“Why? Because I just gave the diary to the senator who wants to destroy my career?”
He squeezed her arm. He wasn’t used to seeing her defeated. “Maybe Miss Nell is right. Maybe it’s time to find a new focus.” He popped a fry in his mouth. “Like me.”
She took a bite of his strawberry dessert. “For an ex–Green Beret who runs a pirate-themed gym, you think mighty highly of yourself.”
He took the lid off the shake and took a big gulp. He wanted to close his eyes and savor it, but he didn’t want to lose a moment of looking at her. “Yes, I do.”
She laughed. “What am I going to do with you, Nate Walker?”
He blew her a kiss. He was willing to look ridiculous if it meant making her happy.
She shook her head. “Men are all alike.”
“Not really. Some have stupid names like Augustus.”
She pushed her empty pie plate away, crossed her arms on the table, and laid her head down again. “I want this day to be over.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He rubbed her neck. The irony was he didn’t want this day, or the next, to ever end. “I know.”
* * *
Zack came downstairs dressed in what he hoped would be clothes worthy of a goth strip club whose previous manager sold prostitutes and tainted heroin on the side. Tonight he wore his leather biker pants and a black tee. He’d strapped a gun to his leg beneath his pants and hidden a knife in his leather coat.
He’d just spent the last hour reading through what the other men had written about the night Jack’s and Nate’s teams were taken and comparing it to the spreadsheet Luke had compiled for their defense arguments. So far, Zack had found nothing new.
The gym was busy. The ring was occupied, and there was a waiting list. Vane had the beginner Krav Maga class, while Pete had taken an advanced class. Zack had had to hear Vane complain about that injustice all afternoon.
Luke sat at the front desk, a cell phone connected to his laptop. Zack went over and dropped a Post-it note on a pile of papers. “Here’s my list.” The fact that his list fit on a Post-it note told Luke everything about Zack’s pathetically small personal arsenal. “One nine-mil. One fully loaded magazine. Two knives.”
“Thanks.” Luke looked up. “Nate said he’ll meet you at the club.”
“Great.”
“Cain!” Luke waved to Cain, who was leaving the main gym area. “Where’s your list?”
“Dudes.” Cain wore black sweats and nothing else. From the size of his pumped-up arms, he’d probably finished his daily program of lifting and pull-ups. “One Glock. Three magazines. One empty, one full, one with three bullets.”
“And?” Zack asked.
Cain ran his hands over his shaved head. “Three knives. Charlotte has pepper spray.”
“Thanks.” Luke wrote on the same Post-it below Zack’s list.
“No prob.” Cain pointed to the desk phone. “Did Charlotte call the gym today?”
“No,” Zack said. “Why would your wife do that?”
“Because my phone died and I can’t find my charger.” Cain walked away, grabbing a towel off a stack on a metal chair. “Let me know if she calls.” He moved so quickly the stack toppled over onto the floor. The same stack Zack had washed and folded earlier.
Aaaaaaaand Cain kept moving.
“Sure,” Luke threw out after him with all the excitement of a kid waiting for a flu shot.
Cain raised a hand and headed for the stairs.
Zack exchanged a grimace with Luke. Cain shared a room with Vane, who was OCD tidy while Cain dropped shit everywhere. “What are the chances the charger is buried under laundry?”
“Nah.” Luke started typing again. “I bet Vane hid it.”
“You’re probably right.” Zack clapped Luke on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Nate took this phone off Etienne today. I’m looking for clues, except some of the numbers are encrypted.” The phone buzzed, and Luke squinted at it. “It’s a text for a change to a meet-up tonight.” Concern carved lines on his face. “Etienne was supposed to meet some guy down the street behind that abandoned service station. Name of Leroy.”
* * *
Five minutes later, Zack held three beer bottle necks in one hand and walked down the street toward the abandoned gas station He inhaled the night air until he entered the alley, where he gagged on the stench of mildew and urine.
It didn’t take long to find the two men who’d been living in this alley since Zack and his men arrived. Despite being high or drunk, they’d not caused problems. The short one had even come into the gym to remind them that trash day was Tuesday instead of Thursday.
“Hey, man.” The short man sat on his ass, propped up by the moldy brick wall. “Wat up?”
Zack handed him two of the beers, already opened. “Just being neighborly.”
“Cool.” The short man whistled, and the tall, thin one appeared. “Brews, bro. On. The. House.” He slapped the ground between the latter three words.
Thin Guy stopped near his buddy and took a beer. “Yo.”
Zack took a drink. “My friends and I are running the gym now.”
“Dude,” Short Guy said. “That’s awesome. Old goat who ran the place before was a real prick.”
And a hoarder. “A man came in today, and I was hoping you two could fill me in on the rules around here.”
“You met Antoine.” Thin Guy’s voice was so weak Zack wondered if he was sick. “Antoine’s harmless. A go-between.”
“A wannabe,” Short Guy said.
Both men clanked their bottles in agreement.
Zack lifted his bottle to his lips, trying to figure out the best way to ask the next question. Except he didn’t have to. Thin Guy brought it up on his own.
“Stay away from Leroy. He’s involved in serious shit.”
“Yeah,” Short Guy whispered, “Leroy is a Russian vor.”
Zack didn’t know much about Russian mobsters, but he knew the word vor: a dangerous, high-level thief in the Russian mob. “What is a vor doing in Savannah?”
Short Guy chugged his beer. “Not sure. Leroy entered the game when that tainted heroin hit the streets and made friends with Antoine. We”—Short Guy nodded to Thin Guy—“thought Leroy was the source of that poison, but then it dried up and Leroy is still around.”
Thin Guy nodded as if agreeing with his buddy’s assessment.
Zack pretended to look confused. “My buddy was supposed to meet Leroy tonight behind the old service station. Any ideas why?”
“Don’t know,” Short Guy said.
“Do either of you know a man named Etienne?”
Both men shook their heads.
Great.
“Some neighborly advice?” Short Guy stood. “Whatever’s going on, stay out of it. Leroy is bad news.”
Zack handed over his unfinished beer. “Thanks, bro. Appreciate it.”
Short Guy smiled, showing two missing teeth. “No prob, neighbor. No. Fucking. Prob.”
Zack headed to the gym. If Leroy was a Russian vor and if he was working with Remiel, Zack and his men would need a lot more Post-it notes.