A pause on the other end tells me I need to adjust my tone. For the better part of my life, I have had to adjust my tone so people aren’t constantly thinking I’m gonna bite their face off. “Good morning,” I say. “What have you got?”
“Morning, Boss. Target left the residence around four thirty.”
“Which car did she take?”
“Red Mustang.” As if we need the red descriptor. There’s no other mustang in my garage, but whatever.
“Did she protest your presence, or are you in stealth?”
“Stealth.”
Stalker. My wife accused me of stalking her, and I denied it, and while yesterday that was the truth, today is a new day.
“And you’ve got your eyes on her?” Bile rises in my throat from the mere thought of another man watching my wife. My instinct tells me to extract the eyes from all straight men in the continental US. When the man confirms, I hang up and whistle. Viktor, who I’m gonna start calling Pretty Boy, jogs over.
“Why are you here?” I ask. His eyebrows rise as if I’m the one whose presence makes no sense. I clarify. “Didn’t I put you on Ivana yesterday?”
“She’s not up yet.”
“It’s eight in the morning. She’s up, I’m sure of it. Wait, how do you know she’s not up?”
He takes out a phone and slides, swipes, pokes the screen, then shows me Ivana’s bedroom where she’s under the covers and sleeping. I glance at him. “If I wanted electronic surveillance, I’d ask for it.”
He frowns, looking genuinely confused. “Boss, nobody does human surveillance anymore.”
“We do, and if she finds out?—”
“She’s not gonna find out.”
This might play in my favor, as electronics aren’t my style. New kids and their toys come in handy. I need to recruit more staff under thirty. “If she finds out, I can’t protect you because I never authorized this. You understand? You’re on your own there.”
“Got it.” He scrubs his jaw, shifts from foot to foot, and I wait him out. “There’s a shipment next week, and I’m wondering if I can get in on that.”
“Your only job right now is that woman you’re peeping on.” He’s fidgeting, uncomfortable. Jesus, I have to do the understanding, heartfelt caregiver again. I place a hand on his shoulder. “What is bothering you?”
“There’s a foreclosure on the house I want, but I’m short and need to make cash fast.”
“How much do you need?”
“Boss, I don’t wanna borrow money.”
“You’re not borrowing. I’m loaning.”
He smiles. “I’d rather not.”
I smile back. “Smart. That’s smart.” I could push, get him the money, charge interest, make a bit on the side, exploit him a bit more, but he’s my guy, so I won’t. I have a care to give, see? “Get in on the shipment but don’t take those eyes off your target. If she suspects anything, she’ll call Sokol, and then you’re fucked and you’ll fuck me along with you, and I don’t like to be fucked.” I feel like a line fromPulp Fictionis coming, so I say a version of it. “I only like to be fucked by my wife. Speaking of my wife, take my car and buy me a copy ofRogue. It’s a magazine.”
“I know what it is.”
I definitely need more guys like this one. “Am I living under a rock?”
He purses his lips. “Yeah.”
“Well, shit.”
“You’re a little old-school. Outdated.”
“Okay, we’re done with the heart-to-heart here.” He leaves, and I walk up and down my porch, itching for a place to sit. Why is there no place to sit? Oh yeah, that one shipment of furniture that arrived late never got set up because the crew already left the project. Late orders don’t please the customers, and since my wife owns the company, I should spank her for lateness.
