Chapter Seventeen
Suds
My wife is right about one thing. The longer we stay in one place, the higher the chances we’ll be found. Her plan could work but only if she can get her friendly neighborhood hitman to help us out.
Pacing outside in the gravel, she puts the phone to her ear. “Hey Frankie, it’s me, Sam… Yeah, that’s why I’m reaching out. I need a favor… No, but I’ll call if I hear of anything… No problem. So, I need the number of the guy who asked you to kill me… I know… Agreed. It is a big ask… Suds… Thanks, but I think he can handle it… Uh huh… Sounds like good money. I’ll let him know… Sure. Nice knowin’ you, too. No. He won’t fuck it up. Can he use your name as a reference? I don’t think so but I’ll ask.” She motions for a pen and paper and writes down ten numbers.
“Thank you. No. Yeah. We’re all set. I won’t. Yup. Bye. Say hi to Chloe for me.” Smiling, she lets out a breath, ends the call, and holds up the pad. “He said if you do a good job he has more work to throw your way.”
I can’t tell if she’s messing with me. “He doesn’treallythink I’d shoot you?”
She shrugs as she enters the digits into the burner phone. “He’s a weird guy. With him, anything is possible. Oh, I almost forgot, he said to negotiate.”
“Suds and Sam, Hits for Hire. It has appeal.” Smirking, at her mock horror, I take a deep breath and call the man who wants my wife dead.
After two rings, a man answers. “Who’s dis?”
“Frankie said you had a job. I know where the lady PI is and can handle it.” Wiping my brow, I step into the cabin’s shade. According to the weatherman, it’s going to be a scorcher.
“Price is ten big ones.” His tone sounds final but I follow Frankie’s advice.
“Not good enough. Her father is Mike Russo.”
“Who da fuck you think you are?” He’s pissed but doesn’t hang up, so I chalk it up as a win.
“A guy wid a sure t’ing.” At my accent, my Brooklyn babe stuffs a fist in her mouth to keep from giggling but this is dead serious. This shithole put a price on her head.
“Twelve.” A gambler, he’s caught in my bidding war and I pause, wondering if I can push him further.
“Fifteen.”
“Deal.” He gives in too easily.
Dammit. I may have blown it.Trying to think like a mercenary, I add one more condition. “Half now, half later.”
“I don’t know you from Adam. You’ll get it when the job is done.”
“Not gonna happen. Nice talkin’ wid youz.” Shaking, I hang up and when my phone rings back, I take my sweet time answering. “Yeah?”
“Five K. Text me your account. If you cross me, you’re dead.” This time, he’s the one who ends the call.
Sam pokes me. “So? Did he agree?”
“We’re good to go.” My shirt soaked with sweat, I open the email Slate sent earlier, copy the number, and send it.
“Excellent. Now, we just need to make a big enough splash so it makes national news.” With a big grin and eyes bright she says this as if announcing a family barbeque.
However, back inside the cabin, she frowns. “I should call home.”
I can’t believe she hadn’t thought of her loved ones until now. “No, babe. To make this work, they need to think you’re dead.”
“Rose? Mia? My mom? We at least have to tell them. They’ll never forgive me.” Mouth open, she blinks back tears so I hug her to my chest.
“It’s too late to back out now. The money’s already in my account. I’m texting Slate to have Jason follow the trail.”
“What if we stop-” It’s not like my ex-FBI agent to be so illogical so I cup her cheeks to make sure I have her complete attention.
“It’s your call. But I’m assuming Frankie might become just a mite annoyed if we mess with his reputation.”
