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“No,” Nick said with a lift of his chin and challenge in his eyes. “I’ll help her in the store, while you run down the street to BigShopMart and buy her new underwear since that’s the one thing you don’t carry here.”
Bear’s ears turned bright pink. “Oh, well, um, you see—”
“Going commando would be an awfully big distraction,” I said with a painfully straight face and a shrug of agreement for Nick’s position. “And Nick probably has a better idea of my sizes for the stuff here.”
Bear exhaled in defeat. “Guess I deserved that,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll go buy undies. And once I’m back and you’re cleaned up, we’ll make a plan and get equipped.”
“Sounds good. Oh, and I like the boy brief style with the lace on the bottom.”
“Don’t push it, Angel.”
“It’s what I do best, Bear.”
“God help us all.”
Chapter 32
Bear had all sorts of gizmos, including high-power binoculars strong enough for me to see every pore in Rosario’s face from my hiding place behind the Bear’s Den booth. I watched as Rosario paced the length of the amphitheater stage with Marla at his side. No limp, no clutching at his side, no lines of agony in his face. Nothing but a barely noticeable hitch in his step. Damn. So much for winging him.
Sighing, I handed the binoculars to Nick. “The only way that gunshot wound will slow him down is if the Band-Aid falls off and he trips over it.”
“Best to proceed as if he’s at a hundred percent anyway,” Nick said. He checked his watch and turned to Bear. “His show ends in five minutes. You ready?”
“I can read a goddamn watch,” Bear snapped. “I’m ready. But I’m still not convinced he’ll bite on the I-have-something-cool-to-show-you story.” He frowned. “I could say there’s a kid in a wheelchair who wants to meet him.”
“Dear god, no,” I said as Nick groaned. “First off, Rosario would bring Marla along, because a kid in a wheelchair would want to see the dog. Second off, I’m already going to hell, and I’d rather not grease the slide.”
“Fine,” Bear said. “Luck better be on my side.”
“Luck? You’re so full of shit, we’re counting on you bullshitting him into submission with your bearshit.”
A fit of coughing seized Nick. Bear grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. “Oh, I am, and I will!”
Bear left the booth, and Nick and I slipped on my fancy zombie Mardi Gras masks and headed to the VIP tent, sticking to the least crowded walkways and ducking behind booths when possible. Our plan was simple, which I hoped would reduce the chances for things to go wrong. Bear would find Rosario as soon as his show ended, talk him up and feed him a hopefully convincing lie. Rosario’s routine after a demo was to crate Marla in his vehicle with the windows open to help her wind down. With Marla out of the picture, Bear would then lead him to the VIP tent where Nick and I would be waiting to spring the trap. Bear would stay outside to be our lookout and backup, then signal us once the parade of four-wheeler all-terrain vehicles had passed and the road was clear enough for us to drive on out.
There were only two possible hitches in our plan, that we knew of. The first was Marla and what to do if Rosario didn’t crate her. But after much thought and discussion we agreed to abort the plan in that event. Standard animal tranqs took way too long to take effect, and we had no other way to neutralize Marla that didn’t risk injuring or killing her. Most importantly, we didn’t want to deal with eighty pounds of pissed German Shepherd.
The second possible hitch was that we had a very specific window of opportunity to grab Rosario. Unfortunately, that was also when the parade started: Fifty or so four-wheeler ATVs, all decorated up to be redneck zombie Mardi Gras floats, blocking the road leading out of the Fest. It sucked, but we were going to have to capture Rosario then sit on him and wait. Patience wasn’t one of my better traits, but for this I’d do my best.
&nbs
p; A cluster of ATVs rumbled by, complete with plastic beads, brains, and body parts. After they passed, Nick and I continued to the VIP tent and slipped around to where my car was parked at the very back, thanks to a Bear’s Den vehicle pass. I glanced at my watch. Almost go-time. I pulled my mask off and turned to Nick.
“Don’t say it,” he said before I even opened my mouth. “It’s settled. I’m staying.” He hadn’t smiled or met my eyes for longer than a second since that video, and the frowning zombie mask perfectly matched the edge of steel in his voice.
“Okay,” I said instead of the really awesome and compelling argument I’d prepped during the trek over. “Thanks.”
He gave me a stiff nod then slipped into the tent. I exhaled and followed him.
The fake moon was gone, and ordinary bulbs revealed stacks of chairs and tables, and white tablecloths heaped in a laundry bin. The graveyard had been broken down, and fence pieces, headstones, and other décor lay in neat piles not far from the main entrance. Bear had assured me that no one would be around until the following morning when everything, including the tent, would get carted off. I crossed my fingers that he was right. This was the only spot at the Fest with any degree of privacy.
Neither of us spoke. I took up a position by a pile of fake headstones, while Nick peered through a crack in the tent wall near the entrance, mask pushed up onto his forehead. He was being a stubborn shit about helping me, but he’d agreed to keep the mask on once things got rolling since neither of us wanted him identified. He checked his gun once then slipped it into the holster on his belt and tugged his jacket over it. That was the weirdest part so far—watching Nick handle a gun with the ease of breathing, even though it was perfectly logical considering he had Bear as a dad.
Minutes ticked by. The show was over, but it would take time for Rosario to get Marla off the stage and into her crate. More time passed. In the distance, ATVs roared, and music blared. Nick remained silent and still, but I fought the urge to pace. Maybe people wanted Rosario’s autograph or photo. Or the parade slowed them down. Or, more likely, Bear was taking his time and playing it cool since Rosario would get suspicious if Bear seemed in a hurry.
Around the fiftieth time I checked my watch, Nick pointed toward the entrance flap, pulled the mask over his face, and crouched behind a stack of bins. He drew his weapon, but I left my Bear-loaned gun in its holster at the small of my back. Our plan hinged on Rosario’s desire to kidnap me. He’d likely cut and run if he saw me armed, and even though Bear would be right there to stop him, we didn’t need the risk of a tussle.
My pulse quickened as my enhanced hearing picked up approaching footsteps.
