Bodak’s chair slammed against the furniture behind him as he sprang to his feet, his head barely reaching the height of the cloud of cigarette smoke that perpetually wafted around him. “I’m not fucking asking.” Leaning forward, he jammed two nicotine-stained fingers down on the glossy eight-by-ten of Gray on the desk between them. “I’m fucking telling. You have Kincaid bring the cunt, understood?”
Refusing to allow his hands to ball into fists, Adam swallowed his rage. “Yes, sir.”
“Tell the pilots to be ready to leave by seven thirty.” Twitching like a cockroach on its back, Bodak grabbed his pack, tapped out another smoke, and lit up.
“Yes, sir.” Adam stood, he needed to remove himself, or things were going to get ugly. As in, stains every-fucking-where ugly. He checked his watch, five to five. That left plenty of time for Kincaid to get things organized in Savannah.
Despite Mackenzie’s objections, Gray had refused to leave the warehouse before her friend. She’d dispatched Joe Drummond to secure transportation, and Jay Mann was forging paperwork. Gray had them all doing exactly what she wanted.
As a concession to Mackenzie, his sister had agreed to allow Drummond to return Tara Pisani’s body to Florida. It meant Gray would be well on her way to the JTT’s new base before Bodak got a clue he wasn’t the one running the show.
Making some quick mental adjustments to the agreed-upon plan, Adam decided to let the sadistic prick think Kincaid had gone rogue and refused to turn the photographer over. Bodak would go insane, and Adam would have to manage the fallout, but it would keep him distracted for a few days. He just had to make sure nobody else acted as a surrogate for Bodak’s violent temper.
“Anything else, sir?”
“Long Beach on schedule?”
“Yes, sir, theKaraboudjandocked an hour ago. DHS is on board.”
“Good.” The fat bastard jammed the Marlboro between his lips, turned his back, and poured himself a straight shot of Johnnie Walker from the sideboard behind his desk. “And the operation in Charleston?” Bodak tossed the whiskey and poured another.
“On schedule.”
Appeased, Bodak moved his chair back into position and sat his ass down, heavy crystal glass in one hand, cancer stick in the other. “Have the car here in an hour. I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”
“Yes, sir.” Dismissed, Adam nodded once and left the man to his vices. While he spent the next hourimplementingBodak’s orders, the fucker would no doubt be stroking his tiny dick and fantasizing about his introduction to Gray. This couldn’t be over soon enough for Adam. He’d reached his limit, and Bodak needed to be eliminated.
An exact duplicate of his apartment one floor down, Bodak’s office exited into the living room. The four-man security team Adam kept on rotation twenty-four-seven were scattered around.
Despite their casual poses, each of them remained on high alert. Well aware of Bodak’s propensity for unprovoked violence, they stayed on their toes. Adam signaled for the lead man to join him in the hallway.
“What’s up, boss?” Rich Kaminski said, getting to the point as soon as he shut the door behind him.
“We leave for the airport in an hour. I want two men on the ground and one in the air along with the pilots. Find a quiet corner and tell Lou to pay off your boys. Everyone gets cut loose after tonight.”
Rich’s eyebrows made for his receding hairline, but he wisely kept any questions to himself. The man was a professional, and the guns for hire organization he worked for the best in the business. Discretion was a guarantee bought and paid for with a shitload of cash in advance.
“Okay, Danner and I will stick around. I’ll tell Mueller and Harrison to take off after we have Bodak in the vehicle. My daughter just got braces, so I’ll hop on the plane with you for the extra cash if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, sure. How’d your son’s Little League game go? Mikey, right?”
“Pitched a perfect game. Kid’s got an arm.”
Adam clapped the man on the back. “He’ll be the next Don Larsen for sure.” The only man to throw a perfect game in post-season play, Don Larsen was a hero to Yankees Fanatics, Rich Kaminski included.
“Can’t say it won’t be nice to spend more time at the field.” Kaminski cocked his thumb over his shoulder at the solid wood door. “This guy has everyone on edge.”
Adam extended his palm. “Tell Lou I’ll settle up with him next week.”
“Assume this is a need-to-know situation,” Kaminski said as they exchanged handshakes.
“Yeah, tell your guys to keep this under wraps until you get back tonight.”
“Will do. Been nice working with you.”
“Same here,” Adam said. “Looking forward to seeing Mikey play in the big league.” The proud father grinned, and Adam nodded once, leaving Kaminski to make the final arrangements.
Back in his apartment, he eased himself into the comfort of his office chair and caught up on the latest JTT updates. The colonel had met with CIA Deputy Director Diane Heughan this morning. She’d arranged for the colonel to meet with a high-ranking official in the Department of Justice later this evening.
