The guy swallowed and took a step back. “I’ll see if he’s here yet.”
James shot a glance at me, and I got the message loud and clear. With a nod, I walked out of the front door and around the side of the building, skirting the six-foot chain-link fence that circled the back. There was a solid chance Miguel would run. I didn’t know what Miguel looked like, but I suspected it wouldn’t be hard to figure out—he’d be the guy running.
Sure enough, about ten seconds later, the back door burst open and a middle-aged man with dark hair ran out, heading for a vintage baby blue Mustang convertible.
“Going somewhere, Miguel?” I called over to him.
He stopped in his tracks and spun to face me through the fence, about thirty feet away. Shock covered his face. “You’re still workin’ with him?”
He’d heard of me? Maybe he did know something about Knox.
“Haven’t you heard?” I asked good-naturedly. “Women are just as capable as men.”
He ran for his car and started to open the door when James rounded the corner of the building with purposeful strides.
“He’s running,” I said dryly.
“Is that so?” James asked as he smoothly drew his gun from beneath his jacket and faced the fence. He held the gun at his side, pointed at the ground, but the threat was clear.
Miguel froze. “You’re gonna shoot me, Malcolm?” he cried out in disbelief.
“Not you,” James said. “But I was thinking of havin’ a little target practice with your car.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Miguel cried out.
James shrugged.
Miguel stood next to his open car door, presumably weighing his options.
“We only want to talk,” I said, hoping I wasn’t encroaching on James’s plan.
Miguel’s face reddened and his voice shook with anger. “The last time Malcolm just wanted to talk, I walked away with a broken nose.”
“That’s not true,” James said conversationally. “I’ve seen you at least twice since then, and we both know you had it comin’.”
“What if I guarantee you won’t have any broken bones?” I said.
Miguel kept his gaze on James. “There’s a whole lot he can do without breakin’ bones.”
I tossed James an expectant look.
He ignored me, keeping his focus on Miguel. “As long as you cooperate, there won’t be any need to touch you.”
“That’s the problem,” Miguel said, still hovering next to the open car door. “Your definition of cooperation and mine are usually different.”
“Is that your decision?” James said, lifting the gun at his side. “We’ve escalated to the point where I convince you to cooperate by shooting at your pride and joy? Because we both know you’re gonna talk to me. It’s just a matter of how much damage I cause before it happens.”
Miguel’s face scrunched with rage before he slammed the car door. “Fuck you, Malcolm.”
James waved to the padlocked fence. “How about you open the gate?”
“I don’t have the key,” Miguel said, still standing next to the car as though he still might change his mind.
“Then how were you plannin’ on leavin’?” James asked. “Plowing through the fence?”
Miguel scowled at the proof that he hadn’t thought his getaway plan through. “Go around the front. We’ll talk in the waiting room.”
“Your office seems more suitable,” James said.
