People did. Word of mouth was how Grade got a lot of his jobs. Around here, at least. The Cargill County criminal fraternity were not terminally online. At one of the biker jobs, Grade had actually found paper-and-ink soft porn. As if that sort of stuff wasn’t made for a wipe-clean hand-held device.
“I suppose,” he conceded reluctantly.
“What did she want?” Clay asked.
“Same as you,” Grade said. “For me to get the laptop back.”
“Yeah? No jumping the queue. What did she offer you?”
“Two hundred grand,” Grade said.
“Fuck,” Clay said. “I’d probably take that deal.”
“I doubt I’d ever see the money,” Grade said. “She either had me followed from your house, or she has a tracker in the car. Either way, I’d bet on her plan being for me to lead her people straight to the laptop, and then they make sure I have an accident.”
“So?”
Grade hesitated. He didn’t work well with others, never had. It made him squirm to think about asking someone to do something he knew, in his heart, he could do better. On the other hand, he wasn’t too fond of the idea of someone shoving him into a hole and leaving him there, either.
So maybe he could get through it this once.
“Harry?” he asked. “If I tell him where it is, he could maybe head out there to retrieve it with no one the wiser.”
“You’ve got his number,” Clay said. “Tell him I said he’s to do what you tell him. And Grade?”
“Yeah?”
Clay hesitated for a moment. “Dory will be OK,” he said. “I’ll send some guys to keep an eye on her.”
“Thanks,” Grade said. He finished the water, tossed the empty bottle back in the car, and rubbed his hand through his sweaty hair. “I hate that people know how to get to me now I’m back here. In LA, no one knew I even had a family, never mind cared about them.”
“To be fair, most people in Sweeny would still be surprised to find out you cared,” Clay said dryly. “You don’t scream family values.”
Grade hung up on him.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you sure you can trust your boyfriend?” Ezra asked as he clumsily pulled his grimy, bloodstained shirt over his head. Fresh bruises decorated his torso, his abdomen dark and tender looking. “Parker waved a lot of money under his nose, and he’s a greedy little shit.”
Clay tucked the phone in his pocket. “Are you still bitter that he won’t give you a discount? I’m the one fucking him.”
“Does that get you twenty percent off?” Ezra asked as he balled the T-shirt up and tossed it into the bin. “Because I didn’t know there were perks involved.”
Clay shook out the shirt he’d grabbed from upstairs and held it out. “Keep pushing,” he said. “I’m just waiting for the right jibe to bring up your ex.”
“Like there’s anything you can say about Janet that I’ve not already said?” Ezra asked. He clenched his teeth as he pulled the shirt on, sweat on his upper lip as he had to twist and shrug. “And most of them she’d agree with.”
“No, I mean the one you liked,” Clay said. “Pretty boy Paul.”
Ezra gave Clay a dirty look. “Fuck you,” he said. “You really want to do this instead of trying to find out what the hell is going on?”
“You tell me,” Clay said. “You started it.”
Ezra pulled a dour face as he tried to button the shirt one-handed. “Fine,” he said. “Call it a draw.”
Clay let Ezra struggle until it stopped being funny. Then he stepped in to feed the buttons through the holes, the cotton crisp under his fingers.
“Two guys,” he said. “And they got the jump on you. There was a time that wouldn’t have happened.”
