Chapter 12
The Blue Jay Bar lived up to its online reputation, or rather lived down to it.
According to Shana, this was the part of town and the kind of establishments where Chancy Peterson’s thugs were likely to be found.
Dane walked inside and felt overdressed, like he should have worn more leather and less white linen shirt.
No matter, the shirt was important since it held the listening device Joe had brought with him, hidden in the second button.
He strode toward the center of the bar in the back corner, through the crowd thick with thugs and hardly dressed women, young women. Too young.
He met the glassy eyes of one barely past her teens and she smiled when he acknowledged her.
The spark of hope he saw bring life to her skinny frame would have made him weep if he weren’t focused on his mission.
Training his eyes straight ahead, he pinned the bartender in his sights and zeroed in.
He needed to get some intel, even if it meant causing a bit of trouble, raising an alarm.
But he would try it the easy way first, the straight truth.
He would ask the bartender where to find Chancy Peterson.
Then he would lie his ass off and insist that Chancy owed him money. Before he got to the bar, when he was two steps away, Dane turned slightly to check on Joe’s status. Finding his man a few feet behind him to the left, and without acknowledging him, Dane moved forward.
Joe would be listening. And so would Shana. She’d been disappointed that Joe didn’t bring video surveillance capability, but Dane was glad. He didn’t want her tempted to come out of hiding and join the fight that was likely to be incited at some point tonight.
The bartender nodded at him and waited for Dane’s response, his eyes beady and expression expectant.
“Tequila. Patron. Neat.”
The man nodded again, lifted a short glass onto the bar and turned, reaching for the bottle in the second row behind him. As he poured the drink, Dane leaned in.
“Who do I talk to if I have a message for Chancy Peterson?”
The man grinned. “No one. If you were someone he wanted to talk to, you wouldn’t need to ask.”
It wasn’t that Dane expected an answer, but he knew the man would likely turn his gaze to alert the appropriate party of potential trouble and Joe would follow the look and know. If they were lucky, Dane would have a chance to talk to said party before they tried knocking him around.
Turned out tonight was not his lucky night.
Dane felt the two men approach behind him as he lifted his glass. Glancing in the mirror behind the display of bottles, he timed it so that when he turned, the tequila splashed into the face of the man on his right and his fist landed in the face of the man on his left.
Then Joe moved in and all hell broke loose. He ducked a punch and pulled the tequila-soaked man by the collar toward the back corner by the restrooms. He needed to have a quick conversation with him.
“What the hell trouble are you looking for?” The man swiped a tattooed hand across his face and pulled free of Dane’s grasp. He was ten years younger and twenty pounds of muscle stronger.
“Where can I find Chancy—?”
The man took another swing. Dane was fast enough to avoid the brunt, but if the glancing blow was any indication, he didn’t want to get into a full battle.
“I have a proposition for him and he’ll thank you—“.”
“The hell you say.”
Dane felt company surrounding him and saw Joe pull a man around and shove him aside.
Both men were about to pounce until Joe showed his gun, without removing it from his shoulder holster, accompanied only with a threatening look and what looked a lot like an official badge.
It was probably his security badge from the States.
“The hell I do say,” Dane said. “Now where is he?”
“What makes you think I know?”
“Stop wasting our time. Where—”
The second man spoke up. “Okay, you want some real trouble. Go get him. Go find Chancy and get what you f—ing deserve. He’s at Hugo’s Bar and Pizza.”
“Where is it from here?”
The man laughed. “Youse are f—ing amateurs. Worse yet, foreigners. Fine. Go get yourselves killed. Three blocks over and take a right. On Bayswater Road. You just run right over.”
“Thanks.” Dane smiled and took a step. He saw the exit. He didn’t believe they would be allowed to go this easily. He nodded at Joe.
In a swift move that impressed the hell out of Dane—and hopefully scared the hell out of these two wannabe thugs—Joe removed the gun from his shoulder holster and aimed it at them, hiding the weapon from view of anyone in the place behind them.
So far they’d been left alone in this corner to do their business.
The exit was to his left. After a calming breath, Dane kneed the man in front of him in the balls and took off for the exit.
He heard the crack of Joe’s gun against the other man’s head. Pushing through the door, he felt Joe catch up behind him.
*****
Dane swiped the blood from his lip as he ran down the alley behind the bars, Joe following on his heels, his weapon still drawn. Two blocks away, he took a left between two buildings and stopped at the edge of a white stucco one before turning the corner, waiting for Joe to catch up.
“Anyone behind us?”
“Not yet. I think they assumed we’d jump in a car and run.”
“Little do they know how insane we really are.”
“I thought you did a good job of getting that point across.” Joe smirked.
Dane gave him a quick glance. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
Joe shrugged. “It’s a sickness.”
“Tell me about it.”
Dane looked around the corner and noted the restaurant where they needed to go. He doubted their entry would be a surprise. If Chancy’s men were even marginally good, they’d have called him by now to warn him.
He could see the back entrance to the building from his angle and was 99% certain there would be stairs. “Since we’re going for bold, Wild-West style, how about if we go up that way?” Dane said, pointing.
“There’ll be security. They may have been warned.”
“Isn’t that your specialty? Disarming security?”
“Ready when you are,” Joe said.
Dane kept his firearm in the back of his waistband and waved Joe forward across the street. They were one building away, out front, when his phone buzzed.
“Shit.”
“Shana’s calling?”
Dane didn’t answer Joe, but he ripped the phone from his pocket.
The ringer was silent but the buzz of the vibration sounded like an alarm in the night as they pulled back into the shadow of a doorway.
Joe hid his gun. An innocuous-looking couple passed by.
A group of three men and a woman spilled from the front door of the target restaurant. Dane put the phone to his ear.
“What?”
“Don’t go in. That’s a popular restaurant. Too many people might see or hear. Any sign of trouble and the police will be called.”
“It’s a chance we have to take.” There was silence for a beat. He had no idea what else to tell her, what she expected them to do. He controlled his breathing, tried not to lose focus.
“You’re right. I . . . I wish I was there.” Her voice faded away.
“I know.” He signed off. He couldn’t afford any more.
“You okay with this?” Joe asked in a neutral voice.
“We’re going in. Quiet. No shooting. Use your gun to knock any security in the head.”
“That’s what I did before. Might need to try some misdirection.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
That meant Dane would be taking a chance on the security guards not shooting him when he presented himself.
Dane slipped around the corner of the building toward the back door and saw two men standing just outside.
He knew there would be more inside, but they’d deal with them when they got there.
He stepped out into the space, far enough away so they couldn’t throw a punch or a kick, far enough so they’d either have to shoot or throw their weapons at him. Safe enough.
They stared him down, waiting for him to speak. He had their attention as he stood there, arm folded. Silent.
“What the hell do you want? You a mime or something?” the larger man on the left said.
His friend on the right laughed.
Dane whispered, loud enough for them to know he’d said something, soft enough for them to have no idea what it was. Then he took a step backwards.
“What are you saying?” The man on the right stepped forward, away from the building.
Dane watched Joe slide around the corner, keeping against the building and out of the line of sight of the two men, but he didn’t move his eyes off them.
“I said come and get me.”
“You’re a flipping nut, aren’t you?” The big one shrugged. “Don’t mind if I do.”
His friend laughed. They both moved forward. Dane knew Joe would take the smaller guy and timed it so that when Joe smashed his gun across the man’s temple, Dane rushed forward, whipping his gun from his belt. He swung it up and around as the big man brought his beefy fist up to his face.
Even with his quick movement to the side, and even as his gun cracked against the man’s skull, the fist connected with Dane’s jaw with enough force to cause a flash of white, then stars on black. He stumbled as the big man went down in a heap.
Forcing his eyes to refocus, he gained his balance, braced himself against a railing, and straightened.
“We need to drag them out of the way.” His words sounded calm in spite of the sudden wave of nausea.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” He hoped to hell it was true. He gathered himself as he watched Joe drag the smaller man behind a barrel on the far side of the doorway. Dane grabbed the big man’s arm and Joe took the other and they both dragged him to rest next to his friend.
“No telling how long they’ll be out,” Joe said, standing and looking at them.
Dane tried to concentrate. “Nothing we can do about that except be quick.” He went to the door they were guarding and pulled it open.
To the left there were stairs. No guards at this end.
Holding the gun behind his back, he pounded up the steps with Joe on his heels.
They reached the top and faced a battered dark wood door. Dane banged on it.
“Let me go in first,” Joe said. “In case we have to use the gun, at least I have it legally.”