Page 129 of Oddly Fine

“Then I think we should buy ourselves a couple of ski masks and pay the Serbians a little visit—”

“Hold on—you want to kidnap a Serbian gang member and torture him for information?” Hayes asked, just to make sure he understood his partner’s intentions.

Beckett shrugged. “I’ve decided to just—lean into the crazy.”

“You weren’t already?” Adeline asked in stark surprise. Nickel gave a yip of agreement.

“Meh—only on days that ended in Y,” he answered the two of them, then he turned to Hayes again, suddenly becoming serious. “But I agree it’s a bit of an—unhinged plan.”

“You think?” Matthew scoffed.

“Yeah—finding ski masks this late in the season is gonna be hard—ya think nylon stockings are still in fashion?” Beckett frowned thoughtfully.

Hayes didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he turned to Matthew and shrugged.

“You got a better idea?” he asked the mob boss, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Matthew slowly shook his head.

“I’m not wearing a nylon stocking on my head,” Hayes told Beckett with a sigh. “We’ll stop by Sports Experts on our way back.”

“Good Lord—the unhinged is contagious,” Matthew muttered and rubbed his forehead as if in pain.

“Cockledoodle-fucking-doo—” Beckett agreed and burst out laughing.

Chapter 23

It wasn’t a foolproof plan. Hell—it wasn’t even waterproof—but then, most of their plans weren’t and they were still alive, so—

“You can’t kill him,” Matthew reminded them for the fifth time. His arguments against their doing this had been largely ignored. Finally, after seeing the futility of that course of action, he’d resigned himself to focusing his efforts on just getting them to promise not to kill their Serbian captive. Hayes had sworn not to—Beckett remained suspiciously quiet.

“Yeah, yeah, we got it the first 1500 times,” Beckett responded in the same tone a disgruntled teenager might use. Turning to Hayes, he said, “I’m really starting to regret giving him earpiece privileges.”

“You didn’t—they’re his fancy communication devices,” Hayes reminded him patiently from the driver’s seat. The streets were dark and he had turned off their headlights because these weren’t the kind of streets you rolled down at night if you could possibly avoid it. They were heavily guarded and dangerous if you were an outsider. So, it would be best if none of the locals spotted them.

“Yeah—but I have a very fancy gun and a variety of death threats,” he countered from the passenger seat. Said gun was in his lap. He’d used it to threaten their Serbian victim to remain silent when they’d snatched him right off the street. Beckett had hogtied and blindfolded him, and they’d stuffed him in the trunk of their rental car. It had been ridiculously easy to kidnap a high-ranking member of the Serbian Mafia. He’d been walking alone down the street, clearly intoxicated—on God knows what—and rather careless. Their plan went into action when Hayes had stopped the car a half a block away from the guy to let Beckett out to follow him another block or so before jumping him. No one else was around, so it had been the perfect crime. Now they were driving along slowly, following the directions Matthew had given them to an abandoned building outside Montreal that couldn’t be traced to any specific crime family in the area.

“Is this the right place?” Beckett asked, looking out the window as Hayes turned into an empty parking lot and drove right through the open bay doors near the loading dock.

“Apparently,” Hayes shrugged, parking the car and turning it off.

“We sure it’s abandoned? Looks like the perfect place for Michael Myers to hang out,” Beckett said.

Hayes understood his assessment of the place. The building had once served as storage for house boats and shipping containers. Over the years, it had become run down and rusted out. Most of the ceiling had rotted out, providing a perfect view of the night sky. There were several good hiding places, the kind that made former military like them uncomfortable.

“Are you scared, Agent Thérault?” Matthew asked mockingly.

“Of an unkillable serial killer in a goalie mask? Yes. Of course, I’m fucking scared,” Beckett replied sarcastically.

Hayes thought he made a good point.

“Alright—we’re signing off,” Hayes said.

They’d decided their comms should be turned off during their chat with the Serbian. If Matthew was talking to them, then there was a chance they could slip up and reveal who they were working for. That would put the whole plan in jeopardy.

“We’ll wait for you at the condo—” Matthew agreed.

“Don’t forget to take Nickel out!” Beckett reminded him before removing his earpiece, placing it in the car’s cup holder alongside Hayes’.