“So what about him, then?”
“Just keep an eye out for his name. He’s a climatologist, and if he’s had any dealings with Clayton or PeaPod? I want to know. Even if he sent them a letter.”
Jacob snorted down the phone at him. “I usually get paid for this, you know.”
“I usually don’t fuck liars,” Simon said. “So we’re all trying something new this year.”
He hung up before Jacob could snark back at him. He needed to stop throwing Jacob’s lies in his face. It was starting to blunt the edges of Simon’s resentment and turn it into a shared joke instead of a grudge. He made one last call to give an old contact two names and no explanations. It was a Hail Mary pass, but what were old debts for if not risking a long shot?
“You’ll owe me,” his contact said.
“I thought you owed me?”
“Yeah, taking this call at all pays off that debt. Running these names, we’re setting up a new tab.”
“Do it.”
The call ended without the social nicety of a farewell.
Two beers a couple of hours apart was hardly enough to get a buzz on, but he had started with an empty stomach and a hangover. He tucked the phone into his hip pocket and headed for the coffee machine in the kitchen. If he was going to be a getaway driver, he wanted to be awake.
Chapter Eleven
IT STUNGto pay out cash on props when he wasn’t going to recoup the money. Jacob straddled the secondhand bike and pulled the helmet on. He glanced down at his foot where the dog lay on its side, bored and yawning as though it had known him for years instead of just twenty minutes.
“Ready?”
The dog flicked a bat-tipped ear. It was some sort of terrier with a pointy noise and a heavy coat as dense as tree bark. According to the waitress he’d rented the dog from, his name was Fozzy and he liked bacon. Until then Jacob had always assumed he was more of a cat person—if he were going to be forced to have a pet—but Fozzy was even more low-impact than the cats he’d met.
“I’ll assume that means yes,” Jacob said. Then he sniffed his hands. He had spent the first hour and a half of his day going through the garbage, and while he’d scrubbed them in the cafe toilet, he wasn’t sure the sickly lavender covered the stink of quinoa salad, old yogurt, and toner. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, shifted position, and braced his foot against the pedal.
In case anyone was watching, he pretended to fuss with his watch while he kept one eye on the reflection in the window opposite. PeaPod had bought up office space in the old San Antonio Light building the year before. The neon sign still hung outside, just over Jacob’s head, and Abby Milgray, the office manager, had a designated spot for her bright blue Smart car in the attached car lot.
She also had a phone and bad habit of….
There. Reflected pink flashed in the window as she reversed out of her space. Jacob twitched the dog’s lead to get Fozzy to grumble onto his feet. He kicked down on the pedal and pushed the bike into motion down the pavement. Fozzy huffed an aggrieved sigh and trundled into a trot, his heavy coat barely moving as he panted out a wet tongue and long ribbons of drool.
He’d timed it just right, and the front wheel bumped off the curb just as the office manager turned out into the street. And like she had on her errands or coffee runs that morning, she steered one-handed with her phone held at shoulder-level as she waited for her Bluetooth to kick in.
His plan would have worked even if she’d been paying attention, but it would have hurt more.
He yelled, put his feet down, and let the bike spin out from between his legs. It hit the side of the car with a clatter, and he threw himself down like he was playing for the Cowboys as the office manager hit the brakes.
Fuck. Pain scraped through his chest and spread out along his ribs. He’d forgotten about his ribs, but apparently they hadn’t forgotten about him. He rolled onto his back and tried to find some way to hug himself that didn’t hurt, but he swore through clenched teeth with every breath that made his ribs pulse. That was okay. He pressed his skull back against the road. It would make the lie better.
The leash had slipped out of his hands. Fozzy stood stolidly at the curb and looked at him. Then he turned and trotted off in a businesslike fashion with the leather lead trailing behind him. It was ideal, but Jacob still felt a bit betrayed.
“Oh my God!” Abby scrambled out of the car in a flurry of wedge sandals and dress shorts and dropped into a crouch next to him. Her hands were cupped over her mouth and nose and her words filtered through steepled fingers. “Are you okay? I amsosorry. I didn’t see you.”
Jacob sucked in a breath and carefully levered himself up into a sitting position. It didn’t take any acting skill to wince and favor his side. “It’s fine. I’m… ahh… bit sore. My bike?”
Abby’s face was caught between concern for him and the looming horror of an insurance claim. She scrambled up and hurried over to the bike and propped it up. One of the wheels had a kink in it where it had skidded under her tire. She binged the bell hopefully.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Bit banged up, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“I was going for coffee,” Jacob said vaguely. He blotted at his lip with the back of his arm. The bruise was a few days old, but hopefully she wouldn’t put that together. “I needed to get out of the office…. My dog! Have you seen my dog?”
“No. I mean, I did, but I don’t know where he went. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Abby doubled over and pulled her hair back from her face as she tried to peer under the car. “He’s not…. I don’t think he got….”
