Page 25 of Mister Prick

Facing away from me, Vince walked backward toward the SUV. Upon reaching it, he tapped his left hand against the glass while he pointed the gun at the two men with his right.

I crawled into the driver’s seat and opened the door slightly.

“Open the center console,” he said over his shoulder. “Hand me two pairs of handcuffs.”

I opened the console.

Inside, two pistols were secured to the sides of the compartment, each in a plastic holster. At the bottom of the console, there were bundles of hundred-dollar bills, a flashlight, a flip phone, and several pairs of handcuffs.

I grabbed two pairs of handcuffs and placed them in his palm.

“Anything else?”

“This ought to do it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Just a little hiccup.”

It may have been a hiccup to him, but as far as I was concerned, it was a big deal. I wasn’t accustomed to being robbed at gunpoint while getting a cup of coffee. I’d been out with Vince twice, and both times included guns, money, and handcuffs.

After handcuffing the men’s hands behind their backs, he positioned them alongside the Cadillac. He then searched their car, the trunk, and under the hood. He returned to the SUV with two canvas gym bags.

I opened the door. “Is everything still okay?”

He hopped inside, tossed the bags into the back seat, and opened the console. “I’ve got to make a quick call,” he said calmly. “I’ll need you to be quiet.”

“Okay.”

He grabbed the flip-phone, opened it, and pressed a few buttons. Then, he raised the phone to his ear.

“This is Black. Thirty-four, twenty-two, nine, seven, nine. 119 E Grand. I’ve got two HM. I need them transported ASAP. I’m naked.”

He glanced at the men, and then peered through the windshield. “Aside a late model Cadillac, silver in color. Latter thirties, tan slacks, short-sleeved shirts, one salmon, the other light blue. Be advised, Luis and Diego Ortiz. Repeat, Ortiz.”

“Affirmative. ETA?”

“Roger ten minutes. Black out.”

He closed the phone and dropped it into the console.

I guess I should have been mortified, but I wasn’t. I was a little scared, a little shocked, and a whole bunch of intrigued.

“What in the fuck is going on?” I whispered.

He exhaled a long breath and then looked at me. “Can I trust you?”

“I let you in the car, didn’t I?”

He cleared his throat. “Can I trust you?”

“One hundred percent,” I said.

His hazel eyes stared into mine for what seemed like an eternity. “I work for the government.”

“Who’s government?”

“Ours. The United States.”