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Liam readjusted his earwig. It was hard as hell to hear anything with all the caterwauling going on. What kind of an informant wanted to meet in a karaoke bar anyway? His, that’s who.
“No,” Liam growled.
“Me either.” Eve snorted. “Who gave this guy his name, anyway?”
“I think he did that to himself,” Gideon said dryly.
Gideon was right. El Diablo’s real name was Myron Clyde Hornsby. It was easy to understand why he thought El Diablo sounded tougher. But he was also one of the best CIs Liam had ever had. When you’re five feet nothing, weigh less than a buck twenty-five, and had the kind of face that blended into a whitewashed wall, it was easy to slide in unnoticed. Even though El Diablo liked to meet in some of the most asinine places, Liam put up with his idiosyncrasies. He was quirky, weird, and a valuable informant.
“I’d like to sing this for all my friends out there.”
Recognizing the voice, Liam went on alert. Moving his head slightly he spotted his erstwhile informant on the stage, microphone in his hand. Oh hell, Myron was going to sing?
When the music from the old song Somebody’s Watching Me started up, Liam knew they were in trouble. In typical Myron fashion, he was trying to warn them.
“We’ve been made,” Liam said softly.
He barely got the words out before a hand grabbed his arm and tugged hard. Liam didn’t even bother to struggle. Allowing himself to be pulled up, Liam smoothly swung his other arm, slamming a fist into the guy’s face.
As if the entire room had been waiting for a signal, the bar exploded into a free-for-all. Tables squealed across the floor as they were shoved out of the way. A chair flew through the air barely missing Liam’s head. Fists came from the left and the right, jabbed and stung.
It’d been a long time since he’d been in a bar brawl. At a more convenient time, he would’ve jumped right in and enjoyed throwing a few more punches. But he was here for a specific purpose. Beating the snot out of someone wasn’t on today’s agenda.
His eyes tracked Myron’s movements as he scurried off the stage. Liam took a step forward. A meaty fist hurled toward him. Liam ducked, came back with an uppercut to a broad jaw. The guy barely moved an inch. Growling his frustration, he pressed his earwig. “Eve, our man’s going out the back.”
“I’m on him,” Eve answered.
Liam opened his mouth, about to invite Gideon to come inside and join the party, when a body flew by him, obviously thrown by someone. That someone was Gideon who was clearing a path in his typical fashion of just hurling people out of the way. The man definitely had his own style.
“You ever think about going to a bar and not starting a fight?” Gideon asked.
Ducking to avoid a fist, Liam straightened, delivering his own fist to the stranger’s jaw, then turned to answer Gideon. “Now what would be the fun in that?”
“Do you know who these bozos are?”
Liam shoved Gideon out of the way of a flying chair, caught it, and hurled it back where it came from, hitting a couple of knuckleheads along the way.
“Not yet.”
“Let’s get out of here before the police get here.”
Liam grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
With that, they strode through the bar, shoving away anyone who threatened their progress. When they got to the door, Liam turned back and assessed the scene. The fight had been staged to distract. Question was why.
Spotting a movement out of the corner of his eye, Liam turned and got the answer to his question.
“Ah hell,” he growled. “Drury’s here.”
“What’s he doing here?” Gideon asked. “I thought he was locked up.”
“Guess he got out.” Liam jerked his head toward the door. “He’s headed toward the back exit. You go around and stop him if he gets out before I get to him.”
“Roger that but watch your six. He’s likely got a few more friends here.”
Acknowledging the statement with a nod, Liam headed toward the back. Following the creep should be easy. A scum-sucking slug like Drury would leave a trail of slime or at the very least a stench of rotten.
One good thing about Drury being here—the only good thing as far as Liam could see—was that Myron definitely had some solid intel. Drury wouldn’t be interested otherwise. Nor would he take the chance of getting caught if it wasn’t worth the risk.
