CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Twohundredeightythousand?”Udall filled his fists with the front of the guy’s filthy, linen tunic, intentionally grabbing some chest hair in the process. He yanked him so close, he noticed crumbs in the man’s raggedy beard and could smell his rank breath.
Hamsa tried to shrink from away from him.
“That’s more than double what we agreed to.” He ground out the reminder through clenched teeth as he slammed the guy’s back against the wall of his makeshift auto repair shop, causing the entire metal structure to rattle and shake.
He was trying really hard not to lose his shit with the guy, but he got the sense he was trying to dick him over. Aaron was the wrong guy to try that with.
“You think I’m going to pay almost a thousand dollars US for a rusted-out piece of shit van with bald tires, half the seats missing, and an engine that takes five tries just to crank over?” He tightened his fists, and the man whimpered. “We agreed on one hundred forty thousand rupees, five hundred US, and that’s what I’ll pay you. No more. No less.” He gave him a slow smile that warned of swift and deadly retribution. “Trust me, Hamsa, you do not want to fuck with me. Samajh gaya?” Understood?
Hamsa nodded quickly, and his bony Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.
“Excellent.” Udall released his hold and, none too gently, set the man away from him. He smoothed out the wrinkles on the front of his garment, then clapped him on the upper arm. “I’m glad we understand each other.”
Hamsa Sherzai was a sort of modern-day Radar O’Reilly—he had a knack for finding the things Aaron needed. He couldn’t afford to lose that connection, but he refused to let some illiterate Pakistani mechanic take advantage of him.
For his operation to be successful, boundaries needed to be established and adhered to. And Hamsa had just tried to cross one.
“Here is what we agreed to.” He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, lifted Hamsa’s hand, and slapped the money onto his palm. “I will come by in three days to pick up the van. Make sure it’s running.” He pointed at him to emphasize his point, then tugged a piece of wrinkled paper from his back pocket and handed it over. “In the meantime, I need you to take care of the things on that list.”
Hamsa scanned the list and looked up at him.
“I cannot do this.” He pointed at the last item.
“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly become squeamish about killing someone.” Udall knew for a fact Hamsa had killed before, during one of Pakistan’s many littleskirmisheswith Afghanistan. “That man is a problem. He’s been asking too many questions about me and my operation.”
He couldn’t have some old guy running around getting people all stirred up about what Aaron was doing.
“But … how am I—”
“You’re a clever guy, Hamsa.” He patted the man’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Aaron turned away and whistled as he made his way back to the hotel.
Things were coming together, and before long, he’d be making shit-tons of money. Enough to buy a new identity so he could track down Boone Langston. That son of a bitch took everything from him—his career, his freedom—and now it was Udall’s turn.
His second delivery should’ve arrived by now. His only regret was not being there to see his old buddy’s reaction.
By the time he was done with him, everything and everyone Langston cared about would be destroyed.
It was the least Aaron could do for the man who destroyed his life.
Boone pulled into a spot in front of the post office and reached for the button to cut the engine. She stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“You don’t need to go in.” Luna dug her keychain from her bag. “I’ll be right back.”
She dashed inside and, a few minutes later, came out holding a single white envelope. Her brows were screwed together as she turned it over in her hands. She swung the door open and climbed inside.
“What is it?” Boone asked.
“I’m not sure. There’s no return address. The postmark is from”—she turned to him—“Charleston.”
“Shit.” He didn’t believe in coincidences. “Can I see it, please?”
She handed it to him, and he noticed it was addressed to her with no last name. Just her first name and the post office box information.
“It’s from him, isn’t it?” The look she gave him was one of disbelief.
