Chapter 53
53
FIONA
“You’ve caused a lot of problems, lady,” Leather Jacket said, dropping his dirty fork on the counter. He had spaghetti sauce on his cheek.
The other guy was quiet, clearly the backup singer in this two-person band. Typical thug look. Late thirties. Bald. Like an overweight Kojak and cranky about being interrupted having Dax’s pasta.
I shrugged at them both. “You’re breaking the law.”
Leather Jacket shifted his gaze to Dax. “You’re supposed to fix her, not fuck her.”
Dax bristled for a second, then gave a sly smile. “A good fixer does both.”
Leather Jacket and Backup Singer looked from him to me. Then offered up those sleazy smiles misogynistic men had when they felt like they had the upper hand.
They were morons.
“You were in the store with her the other day,” Leather Jacket said. “You’re working together.”
“No way.” Dax shrugged, tipped his head my way and gave me his blue eyes. “Sorry, babycakes.” Babycakes? Dax didn’t stop with that fun new term of endearment. “I’ve known all along you were FBI.”
Oh. Gotcha. I could play along. He wanted them to know I was law enforcement so he could–what?
“FBI?” Leather Jacket said, suddenly uneasy. He shifted from foot to foot as if he might be having bladder issues.
“Yeah, now you see why I had to take my time,” Dax added.
The duo was quiet.
Dax tossed up his hand in a whatever gesture. “Call your boss if you don’t believe me. Max Pinter called me in for this job. I’m Dax.”
Leather Jacket tipped his head to indicate that Backup Singer should make the call while one gun remained on us.
Okay, this validated his presence. Letting him be one of them. A stupid-ass boys club with guns.
Little did they know mine was fucking bigger.
“Yeah. We got her,” Backup Singer said into the phone.
I could hear the other side of the conversation.
“Good. Get the drugs she took then take her to the dump site and finish her.”
The deep voice on the other end of the line had to be their boss. Only another rung in the overly tall drug ladder. He didn’t sound like a nice guy.
“What’s the name of the fixer you got?” Backup Singer asked.
“Dice. Dick. Dex. Something like that.”
Backup Singer’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Who made the referral?”
“Max Pinter. Why the fuck are you dicking around? Do your job and–”
Backup Singer hung up, clearly not wanting to get chewed out. The tips of his ears flushed red and he cleared his throat. “He checks out.”
I slowly exhaled, for once thrilled that Dax had good friends in shitty places. So far, his plan was working.
“Why you still with her?” Leather Jacket asked Dax.
“Had to get her to tell me where she stashed the drugs she stole,” Dax told him. “Plus, keep her away from you so you can get your shipment done.”
Three sets of eyes looked my way.
I knew they were going to kill me and toss me off a cliff. They didn’t know I knew that or where their dump site was. I did and I wasn’t too keen about dying that way.
“Where’d you put ‘em?” Leather Jacket asked me. “You can tell us, and we’ll kill you quickly. Or we can have a little fun first, then kill you slowly.”
I didn’t like either of those options.
“The drugs are in my car,” Dax said.
The look of surprise on my face was genuine. “What? I thought–” I bit my lip from saying something stupid .
Leather Jacket and Backup Singer smiled.
“She hid them in the romance bookstore across the street from the pickle shop.”
Okay, it was time to get my head back in the game and play along. I actually couldn’t be sure if he had the drugs or if he was blowing smoke up their asses.
“How did you find them?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “You’re not that complicated, babycakes.”
“Go get it,” Leather Jacket said.
Dax smiled and nodded, as easygoing as if he’d been asked to pull a forgotten phone charger from his car. “Sure. But I’m not leaving her in here with the two of you.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Yeah, why the fuck not? I could take them. He probably knew that and that was why he said, “Because she’s my job. I might be able to have a little fun and play with her, but I don’t break my toys.” He gave them a look that said he knew they did.
He didn’t want me taking down two gun-toting dumbasses. He’d only seen me take care of one and was probably afraid I might get hurt. As if I’d even break a nail.
Leather Jacket shook his head. “We won’t touch her if you’ve got the drugs. Go get ‘em.”
Dax gave me a look, a glare that had blinking marquis headlights that said be good.
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it.
Dax went out to his car in the driveway. Mine was still in front of Dottie’s house .
“Don’t do anything stupid, babycakes,” Dax said to me from outside. I could hear him loud and clear, along with a car door opening. The way Leather Jacket and Backup Singer eyed me with derision and annoyance, they hadn’t. “I’m texting Jack and he’ll help us deal with this.”
Seconds later, he trotted back inside and dropped the plastic bag filled with Fentanyl on the counter. I didn’t know when he’d relocated the drugs, but I was thrilled he had.
“Drugs,” Dax said.
“Good. Now here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going for a little ride.”
“What? You’ve got your drugs.” I pointed to the bag.
“Yeah, she’s my responsibility,” Dax added.
“You know too much, Miss FBI Agent. We’re not stupid enough to let you go.”
No, they were just plain stupid.
“I’m the one who’s fixing this problem,” Dax said. The way his jaw clenched was the only indication he wasn’t happy with these guys.
“Then you’re the one who can push her off the cliff.”
Dax looked to me. “Fine. But I’ve got the spot. I dumped a few other bodies there the other day on my way into town. Not much traffic. Nice and steep. She’ll never be found.”
What the hell?