“Not yet. I was debating whether to go inside the bar with my vest on. I need to be discreet, but he’s dangerous.”
“Hmm. That’s a tough one.”
My eyes roll involuntarily. “A lot of help you are.”
“You’ll make the right call, kid. You always do.”
My chin lifts slightly at that. “I’m going in. Stand by.”
A few seconds later, I enter the bar with my badge hidden in the pocket of my jeans. Although I left the vest in my bike’s storage compartment, my service weapon is concealed under my shirt.
I keep my head low as I scan the patrons. Luckily, it seems to be a large crowd tonight, thanks to the Bucs game playing on all the TVs. The busy scene gives my odds of being undetected a nice boost.
It doesn’t take long for me to confirm Riddick is still there, sitting in a booth with his back to me.
And he isn’t alone.
Andrews isn’t gonna believe this shit. Grieving girlfriend, my fucking ass.
I lean casually against the wall, pulling out my phone to update the team.
Me:
Got a visual on Riddick. Booth in the east corner of the bar. Ginny Lawrence is with him.
Almost immediately, bubbles appear at the bottom of the chat screen as multiple team members start typing their replies.
Romero:
You should have given us a trigger warning for the juicy plot twist.
Hemsley:
Didn’t I say not to trust the girlfriend?
Carson:
I guess her tears were for show.
Andrews:
This answers so many questions I had about my interactions with her this morning.
McBride:
Any sign of that Silas yahoo?
Me:
We aren’t that lucky.
SSA Chase:
Keep eyes on them, Hayes. We’re rolling up with SWAT in three minutes.
Me:
Copy.
