“She’ll do her part,” Baz snapped. “She’s never failed anyone yet.”
“He’s right,” Brantley agreed, glancing at Toby in the rearview mirror. “She’s tied into their Wi-Fi already. As soon as Atticus gives the go-ahead, she’ll run the news clip we pre-recorded and tie in the live feed that Becs is streamin’ now.”
“So I just have to survive the explosion,” Toby huffed.
Brantley grinned to himself. “We won’t be inside when it goes off. Reese would kick my ass if I died tryin’ to save your fuckin’ life.”
“So we’ll be out by then?”
“We will.”
“What about the cops? What if they show up?”
“They’ve been alerted to our drill,” Brantley reiterated. They’d had RT put in a call to APD to notify them that Sniper 1 Security would be doing a live drill, and there was going to be some destruction. They hadn’t been thrilled with the idea, which delayed their plan while RT worked out the details. There were currently two undercover APD detectives positioned at each end of the street to oversee things just in case.
“And Mr. Adorite?” Toby asked. “Can we trust him?”
Brantley couldn’t confidently answer that, but he said, “Yes. He arrived early this mornin’ with one of his enforcers to ensure it goes off without a hitch. He owes Reese. He won’t fail us.”
That had been the most challenging part of the plan, getting Max Adorite to go along with it. Thankfully, they’d had something to entice him with.
“You have the SD cards?” Brantley asked.
Toby nodded fervently. “All the watches are on me, yes.”
“Good.”
Brantley would let him go on believing he still had the original SD cards they’d only recently learned about. He still couldn’t believe Toby hadconvenientlyforgotten about them in all the chaos of the past few days. It wasn’t until they were discussing the state of Toby’s house and the fact someone had been searching for something that heremembered. Whatever. Brantley wasn’t buying the kooky routine, but he would let Toby think he did.
It was the existence of the SD cards that Toby had hidden in his collection of stolen watches that had inspired this plan in the first place. Originally, they had intended to ship Toby off to Ohio or somewhere equally as rural to start a new life while they created a false trail in his wake. Then the guy had blurted out that he had leverage against Hartwood and Moroso.
Needless to say, their plan had changed.
Now it was time to kill Toby Land once and for all.
***
Atticus James strolled into the Red RoomRevue like it was any other day and he was any other customer.
With Jay Hernandez, one of the analysts for the Sniper 1 Security team, at his side, pretending to be eager for an evening of debauchery and nude chicks, they headed toward one of the tables close to the bar, where their conversation would likely be overheard by one of Hartwood’s enforcers, who were currently chatting it up like they were here for the entertainment as well.
They’d purposely waited for the goon squad—as JJ liked to refer to them—to arrive because they were the audience Atticus and Jay were gunning for.
Ten minutes passed while they ordered drinks and traded smiles with the ladies sauntering around the room. Atticus played his part as he’d promised, pretending to be interested while he was anything but. He preferred his naked entertainment to have a dick, not tits, but he was nothing if not accommodating. After all, he was getting a rather hefty payment out of this deal, far more than the bounty on Toby’s head would’ve gotten him. Plus, he might’ve developed a slight crush on the Navy SEAL who was in charge of this task force. Not that he would admit that out loud. He valued his life, and he figured Brantley’s fiancé wouldn’t be all that keen on Atticus making a play for his man.
Atticus’s phone, which was lying face up on the table, lit up.
“Show time,” he muttered to Jay as he reached for the phone and made a show of staring at the screen. “Holy shit, man! You see this?”
Jay leaned in, acting as though he was looking at the screen.
“Holy fuck! That’s an FBI sting, dude,” Atticus shouted. “And it’s live.”
He twisted in his chair, glancing over at the bar, pretending to be looking for the television he already knew was mounted above the bartender’s head. Without hesitation, Atticus launched to his feet and moved quickly, holding up his phone.
“There’s an FBI sting goin’ on right now.” He pointed to the TV. “That thing work? Turn it on.”
The goons were looking at him like he’d lost his damned mind, but he’d sparked the curiosity of the bartender, who reached for the remote.
