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“And she knows where they can find this, uh… friend of yours?”
I slowly move out from behind the counter, keeping on my toes as I watch him for quick, sudden movements. “Yeah.”
“That’s a pickle, mate,” he says. “I don’t envy you right now.”
“Thanks.”
“Did they leave any evidence? Anything that’ll tell me where they went?”
I stare back at him as my mind twirls with fresh information and surging adrenaline. “No,” I answer. “Not that I’ve seen yet…”
“Hrm…” He fishes into his jacket for his phone. “Well, maybe little Lily has used Granny’s card again…”
I step closer. “What?”
He pauses, falling silent as he regards me with apprehension.
“Hey, you said we’d talk,” I say. “I answered your questions.”
“Mostly.”
I give him a little space, drifting backward toward the busted counter again. “Who hired you to find Dante Hart?” I ask.
He smiles for a split second before exhaling a short, defeated breath and dropping his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Antony Zappia.”
I search my memory for the name, quickly landing on that night in Denver with Fox. Sipping beers, telling tales of time gone by.
“The mob family?”
His eyes shine with surprise. “You know ‘em?”
“I’ve heard a few stories.”
“Well, big brother Dante up and pissed them off,” he continues. “About half a year back, Zappia hired him as his own personal hitman completely unaware that the man was an undercover Snake Eyes agent.”
“Why was he undercover?”
“Didn’t ask, don’t care,” he says. “The family found out about Snake Eyes along with the rest of the world and Dante put a bullet in Antony’s son’s face on his way out of town.” He waves his palms along his cheek. “Fucked the boy up real good.”
“So, Zappia’s looking to track down Dante. Why are you going after the twins instead?”
“Because Dante disappeared into thin air, but his little brother and sister have not.”
“You catch them, you draw him out?”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds like a decent enough plan — assuming he gives a shit about his baby siblings.”
“He does.” Archer shifts on his feet, changing direction toward the back of the shop. “And if I can find a clue for where they buggered off to, I can get on with it. Is there security footage?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
He takes another step toward the office.
“Wait…” I hold up a hand. I’m constantly full of bad ideas but again — I don’t have time to wonder whether this one will come back to bite me in the ass. “We can help each other.”
“Sorry, buddy,” he says, grinning. “I work alone.”
