I had to be more careful with my plan.
I took a breath to calm my nerves. I could do this.
He stalked back over to me. “You gonna talk to me now?”
I gave him a haughty look. “Am I supposed to be impressed that you sucker-punched that guy?”
He leaned in, his face inches from mine, the smell of onions and whiskey hitting me full force. “Maybe.”
Run.
But I was committed to this. I had to find James, because I refused to believe he was dead. Still, would Razor really be here right now if James had come to see him?
And yet…
James’s car was down the street. He’d been in this area, so it stood to reason he’d come into this bar. If so, Razor would’ve seen him. And Razor—or someone else—would have taken James somewhere.
That meant I had to get Razor out of this bar.
I tipped my head up to face him, letting a seductive smile spread across my face. “What do you say we get out of here?”
His eyes lit up. “What do you have in mind?”
“My apartment’s near here.” I paused and hoped I looked sincere. “Want to come over for a drink?”
His grin spread. “Let’s go.”
After I grabbed two twenties from my pocket and tossed then onto the counter to cover my drink, I slid off the stool and headed for the door. A second later, I felt his meaty hand grab my upper arm and pull me to a stop. Was he planning to punch me too? I prepared myself to react, but he rested his arm over my shoulders.
“Slow down there,” he drawled in my ear. “What’s the hurry?”
“Maybe I’m eager to get you home.”
We walked out into the cool night air and he steered me toward a pickup truck—the same model I’d found in my search.
He opened the passenger door and waited for me to get in. I suspected it was to make sure I didn’t change my mind rather than as a chivalrous act. He tried to lean in and kiss me, but I arched back and teased. “So impatient. Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.”
He gave me a leering grin, then walked around the front of the truck. I hurried up and reached for the gun at my ankle, then tucked it between my leg and the car door. Razor got in the truck and started the engine. “Okay, where to?”
“When you get to the street, turn right.”
He did as instructed and started driving west. “How far down do I go?”
“I don’t know,” I said as I lifted the gun and pointed it at him. “Where do I find Gerald Knox?”
He swiveled his head and stared at me, his mouth hanging open. Then he turned back to face the road and hit the brakes hard, nearly rear-ending the car stopped at a stop sign in front of us.
“You’re the bitch who’s been hangin’ out with Malcolm,” he said, his voice gruff.
“That’s me,” I said brightly. “Speaking of Malcolm, where is he?” My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for the answer.
“How would I know?”
“He came into the bar earlier.”
“Not that I saw,” he said with a sneer. “Haven’t seen him since before Christmas. If he came into the bar, he was talkin’ to someone else.”
Was he telling the truth?
