Mo knew this because of his neat haircut.
Clipped perfect.Not overly styled.His hair laid that waybecause it was cut to lay that way.AndMo’dlaymoney down the man went to the barber no less than once every three weeks.
Clean, close shave.Baby skin.Perfectly trimmed sideburns.
Hand on the table next to a bottle of beer that wasuntouched.Mo could see the thin line of foam at the top in the neck.The guydidn’t drink, not alcohol.
Fingers rat-a-tat-tatting a nervous strum on the table.
Careful placement of his position, not in the front row, notin a booth at the back, so as not to appear too eager, not pretending to be tooaloof, or worse, hiding.Second row of tables, side stage, where he could seeLottie.
But his eyes were on Mo.
When he saw Mo had eyes on him, casually, too casually, hetipped his chin to acknowledge the eye contact, then turned his attention toLottie.
Bland face, carefully bland.No reaction to the bestone-woman show anyone in that room had ever seen.No visible reaction to abeautiful woman with a fantastic figure in a sequined bikini and high heelstwirling upside down on a pole.
And no open display of hatred or disgust, for certain.
No one, not a soul except the waitresses, and even theystopped serving when Lottie performed, had eyes on anything but Lottie when shedanced.
There was all this, and Mo could read a person, it was animportant part of the job.
But the most important part of it all was that Mo would layhis life on the fact he saw that guy looking at cucumbers in the producesection of King Soopers on Sunday.
Mo felt a curl in his throat and heat hit his gut.
This was their guy.
Mo didn’t move, even though, from the second night on, Hawkhad fitted the team at Smithie’s, including the bouncers, with earpieces andwristband radios.
This was where training was crucial.
This guy bolted, not a man on the mark knew it was him andhe might be able to outrun Mo if Mo had to take off from his current position.Though the team would see Mo make a break for him, he could slip through acrowd like this and do it easy.
Then, if he got free of the building and didn’t park in theparking lot, which he likely wouldn’t considering Smithie had cameras all overand they were visible, when he got out of camera range and to his car, they’dhave no clue who he was or where to find him.And obviously, no car on camera,no make and model or license plate.
He needed a tail that night.
No, he needed put out of commission that night.
Mo couldn’t lift his arm and alert the team, the guy mightsee him and know he’d been made.
His body screamed to do it.
No.
It screamed at him to rush the man and incapacitate him in away he’d never recover.
But it wasn’t Mo’s job to take down the guy.He couldn’trush him from his position backstage.
It was his job to stay on Lottie.
So he had to hold.
His only choice was to keep him in his peripheral vision sohe didn’t tweak him with a movement that would communicate he’d been made andset him to running.
Something he might already know since they’d locked eyes.
