Mirho’s phone rang. It was one in the morning. He didn’t have to look to see who it was. The boss didn’t like failure, and so far, all he’d gotten was a busted rib and a broken nose. He pulled the car over. He didn’t want to answer. He just cleared his throat.
“I’m here.”
“I was supposed to hear from you. Do we have it? You seemed to feel you had it in the bag earlier. I didn’t hear back.”
Mirho dabbed away some blood from a cut on his face. “Maybe I was a little premature.”
The pause on the other end was like a blade thrust in him. “I don’t have to remind you that we don’t have time. There are things happening, and I can’t have this out there like that. Not to mention it doesn’t exactly sit well with me that someone’s spreading around my money.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Mirho said. “I just have to find another way in.”
“What other way . . . ?”
“You don’t have to know the details. You just want your peace of mind back. Let me handle the rest. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”
“You know, if I didn’t know better . . .” His boss chuckled. “It might seem as if this woman’s got the better of you. Maybe I should have gone out and hired her.”
“Trust me, she’s going to regret it,” Mirho said. He took in a breath and winced. Probably a fractured rib or two from the boat that fell on him. “So much for Mister Nice Guy. I know exactly how I’m going to handle it next.”