5:42 p.m.
Hardy watched Special Agent Cruz double-check the status of her pistol. “Do you have an extra one of those?” They were sitting in the Charger parked to the right of the front doors to the Overland Steakhouse. The restaurant was empty, except for the few patrons that could be seen from their vantage point. None of them matched Charity Sinclair’s description. Jameson had sent a picture along with the coordinates to the new safe house.
Cruz shook her head. “You’re a civilian. Plus, I want you to stay with the car, so we can leave as soon as I pick her up.” She cranked her head in all directions. “I’m not hanging around here any longer than necessary.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? It’s kind of hard to watch your back from here.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” She liked his concern for her safety. Being an FBI agent, she had to be tough, controlling. Those qualities did not allow her to relax, let someone else care for her needs. Time with Hardy meant she could let down her guard and not feel the need to be in charge. This situation was not one of those times. This required her to exercise her authority. She was the federal agent and the safety of the witness was her responsibility. “Besides, the witness is expecting me. If you’re there, she might get spooked and run.”
Hardy nodded his head. The thought of her going into the restaurant alone did not set well with him. She was unaware of why Jameson had insisted she bring him, and Hardy was not in a position to tip his hand.
Cruz exited the vehicle and stuck her head through the open window. “Keep the engine running. I’ll be right back.” She tapped the door with her hand and hurried toward the restaurant.
She paused at the front doors, looking through the glass. After a few moments, she swung open the glass door and entered the building.
Hardy checked the time on his watch. He was giving her three minutes to reappear or he was going in after her. She might not like it, but he did not like her going in alone, either. Call it a compromise.
After a minute had passed, Hardy observed three large men approach the restaurant, coming from the other way. They were dark-skinned and wearing dark suits with white dress shirts. They seemed out of place for the area this time of the day, especially such a hot day. The temperature was close to ninety degrees and they were wearing dark suits. Plus, their body language set off alarm bells in his head. His pulse quickened and his muscles tensed. His body was getting ready for a fight.
When the lead man reached around his body to grab the door handle to the restaurant, Hardy noticed a bulge under the man’s jacket. Concealing full-size firearms under a suit coat was difficult. Suit coats were fitted to the shape of the wearer. Stuff two pounds of steel underneath and the result was always the same, a telltale bulge.