Clint watchedLordfrom the corner of his eye. The subtle twitch in his jaw in response to Clint’s words revealed just how “on guard” he was. If Clint so much as flinched toward his boss, Lord wouldreact.
It wasn’t just his boss he was protecting.Clint observed the man carefully, noticing subtle details: how close he stayed to Lazarus, a tense energy in his stance that went beyond typical bodyguard behavior, and how his eyes occasionally flicked to his boss and lingered for a moment. The protective attitude Lord had toward Lazarus was almost tangible, like static electricity in the atmosphere.
“I assure you,” Lazarus replied with practiced calm. “If I had a problem with you, I would speak to you directly, like a civilized man, not resort toprimitive, gangland tactics.”
“This isn’t about me,” Clint said, a tightness in his voice.
Lazarus leaned back and stroked his jaw. “I’m confused, cowboy.Whyare you here?”
Flattening his hands on the desk, Clint leaned forward. Lord immediately stiffened, his hand coming to rest on his sidearm. Clint flicked him a quick glance. “Calm down.” The man looked ready to take Clint out, but made no move—not without a direct order from hismaster—and again clasped his hands behind his back. Clint turned his eyes on Lazarus. “I want the shooter. Give him to me, and we’ll have no problems.”
Lazarus gazed at him lazily and flicked his fingers. “Howdoes this concern you, again?”
“That’s my business.”
“You’re asking me to turn over one of my men,” Lazarus said. “I think it’s my business, too.” He glanced at his watchdog and raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you say, Lord?”
Lord’s eyes were chipped ice as he stared at Clint. “I would.”
“Innocentpeople died because of this little stunt,” Clint said, teeth grinding.
“Innocent people die every day,” Lazarus replied. “Not-so-innocent people, too. It’s how the world works. No one’s fault, really.”
“And sometimes,” Clint bit sharply, “it’s the fault ofassholeslike you.”
“True.” Lazarus smiled and shrugged. He stood. “However, I have no knowledge of thisdrive-by, but I assure you I will look into it.”
“Look into it?”Clint scoffed. “Two young boys aredeadbecause of this shooting. Two families who will never see their sons again. And you’lllook into it?”
A shadow rippled across Lazarus’s eyes, and he sank back into his chair. “Two young boys.” He stared at Clint, a new tension in his gaze. “Were they shot in the drive-by?”
“One was,” Clint said. “A thirteen-year-old boy. He was with his older brother. The kid took a bullet to the chest and died in surgery.”
The skin beneath Lazarus’s left eye developed a tick. “You said two boys,” Lazarus murmured. “How did the other one die?”
Clint explained the events of the hit-and-run, a strain in his voice as he relived the horror of that moment. “The older boy not only lost his little brother, but may face manslaughter charges. The mother is in danger of losingbothher sons, leaving heralone. The other family lost their only child.” He huffed. “But thanks forlooking into it.I’m sure the families muchappreciateyour attention to the matter.”
Lord narrowed his eyes at Clint, and his hands unclasped from behind him, his arms tensing at his sides. The fingers of his right hand contracted near his sidearm, a silent warning for Clint to keep himself in check.
Clint stared back, unwavering.Anytime, anywhere, motherfucker.
Lazarus glanced at the framed photo as he absorbed the cowboy’s words. He stood, resting his hands on his desk, his gaze shifting between the cowboy and the Egyptian, who had yet to speak a word. “If I had names right now,” he said, “I would give them to you. But as I said, I neither ordered the hit nor authorized it.” He straightened, his height and build matching both men before him. “But I will find them.”
“Ihave names,” the cowboy said. “Chaz and Helio. They were doing business with some lowlife street dealers. Deal went bad, or so they say. You telling me you didn’t have a hand in this?” He seemed skeptical.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Lazarus said. “I’ll talk to my men and see what they have to say.”
“Andthen?”the cowboy narrowed his jade eyes. “You going to slap their wrists and make them stand in the corner—andthinkabout what they’ve done?”
Lazarus liked the cowboy, even though the man clearly despised him. “I suppose that’s one option,” Lazarus said. “But I’m moreold-schoolwhen it comes todiscipline. I believe that without consequences, there can be no lessons learned. These menwillface the consequences of their actions.”
“I want the shooter,” Clint said bluntly. “Do what you want with the driver, but I want the fucker who shot that kid.”
“I’ll speak to them,” Lazarus said. “And be in touch.”
The cowboy seemed poised to say more when the Egyptian touched his shoulder—a gesture that appeared to ease some of the cowboy’s indignation.
“This will be settled,” Lazarus assured the men. “Toyoursatisfaction. I’ll see to it personally.” He spread his hands. “I gain nothing by crossing you, gentlemen. I wish to maintain good relations with you and your family.”
