His knee throbbingfrom walking down the single flight of stairs from his apartment to the ground floor, Jamie leaned heavily on his cane as he crossed the busy street to the open-air bar on the opposite side.
“Nix, how’re you, my man.” Always friendly, Pedro Santos pulled out the stool next to him. “You’re looking good today.” He slapped Jamie on the back as he sat. “Hey, Miguel, get my friend here a Toña.
As far as beer went, the local cerveza was good, but he liked the rum better. “Make it a double shot of Flor de Caña,” he said, sweat already dripping down his back despite the slightly cooler evening temperature. “No ice.” Last thing he needed was an E. Coli infection from a dubious cube supply.
“Smart.” Pedro grinned. “No diarrhea for you.”
The rum arrived, and Jamie polished off a third in one swallow. “You get everything on the list?”
“Yes, of course, man. It’s easy, you know.” He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a flash drive, putting it down on the sticky bar before sliding it over. “Interesting information.” He tapped his finger against the memory stick before picking up his beer and chugging it. When he finished, he set the glass back, threw a few cordobas down to cover the drinks, and slid off his stool. “You have a look. If you’re not happy, you have my number, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jamie pulled an envelope of cash out of the back pocket of his pants and handed it to the hacker. “It’s all there.”
Twenty grand in cash. Ten upfront. Ten on delivery. Fucking cheap as far as he was concerned. Hell, he would’ve paid five times the amount to get his hands on the details surrounding Jonas Johnson’s campaign schedule.
“It’s good business, mi amigo.” Pedro bobbed his head up and down while the envelope went into the pocket the drive had come out of. “If you need more?”
“I’ll call you,” he replied, shaking the hand offered to him. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime, my friend.” Another back slap later, and Pedro disappeared into the crowd on the street.
In a hurry, Jamie finished his rum, declined a second, and palmed the flash drive. He had an assassination to plan, and he couldn’t do it from here.
Sure, his apartment may be small and lacking every amenity known to man, but he had a laptop to work on, a bottle of Flor de Caña to finish, and a fucking oscillating fan to keep him from melting into a puddle on the floor.
What more could a man ask for?
He grabbed his pink cane and stood, careful to ensure his knee would hold before he put any weight on it. When he didn’t fall face-first to the floor, he started off on his epic journey to cross the narrow street.
Two minutes and six-and-a-half-fucking-yards later, he’d been honked at, yelled at, and almost run over by a scooter. His knee had entered a constant state of protest, and he still had a flight of stairs to climb.
Yeah, safe to say his sour mood had gone from bad to worse, and a second cold shower would be a mandatory requirement once he reached his final destination. Fuck his life.
In the alley beside his building, he leaned his shoulder against the purple brick wall and took a breather. Two doors down, a thumping electronic beat wafted out from a dance club. Free advertising to entice the locals into their establishment.
Friday nights in Managua were all about gathering with friends and family, the revelry lasting long into the night. Meant Jamie wouldn’t get much sleep. Didn’t matter. He didn’t get much sleep on the lumpy single mattress anyway.
Fuuuck. He’d sell his left nut for one night in his king bed back at the lodge. A pang of loneliness hit him, and he had a fleeting thought of Ko’s baby before he pushed it aside. No. She didn’t need him.
With his bad attitude and bum knee, he couldn’t care for her. Not properly. Not the way she needed to be. Not the way she deserved to be. What he could do? Keep his head on straight, his shit together, and his eyes on the target.
Bottom line—if he wanted to keep the people he loved safe—Jonas Johnson had to die.
* * *
Not sure she heard right,Summer looked from Zander to Cody and back again. “You want to bomb my car?” After two weeks of living in a house full of testosterone-fueled men, nothing should come as a surprise anymore, but blowing up her car?
Yeah, she hadn’t seen that one coming.
“Why not?” Standing in the center of the great room, Cody shrugged a boulder of a shoulder. “It doesn’t run, and Z could use the practice.” He clapped his hand against his co-conspirator’s back, and she couldn’t help but glance at the burn scars running down the right side of Zander’s neck.
Since getting to know the gentle giant, she hardly noticed them anymore. They were just there. A part of him. No different than his warm brown eyes and beautiful smile.
“Shut up, motherfucker.” Zander aimed a not-so-gentle punch at Cody’s midsection, and he had to move out of range fast or risk internal bleeding.
“Boys,” Eve admonished. Cuddled into a corner of the couch with Halia in her lap and Adam beside her, she continued cooing to the baby.
Summer grinned. She had a feeling game night was about to become her favorite night of the week. With a fire crackling in the hearth, the hockey game on the TV, and Davis running in with an assortment of snacks in his arms, she already knew tonight would be a blast.
