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“No.” Claire’s chin rose and she slid her hand clutching the devices behind her back.
“Do not be foolish. Hand over the items and I shall promise not to personally harm you or Mr. Warrick.” He held out his hand toward Claire, empty palm facing upward. “Chop, chop.”
Jake snorted his disbelief. Burlington couldn’t even arrange his face into a pretense of innocence. The attempt at humble innocence made him look deranged.
The goon, Franklin, rumbled back into the restaurant. Plastic grocery bags crin
kled in each of his large hands. He paused in the doorway and light from the parking lot outlined his roided-out body. Time had run out. Jake tamped down the adrenaline spiking his blood. He had to remain calm and in control if they were going to make it out alive.
Franklin lifted a bag. “So, where you want ’em?”
“The table is fine for right now. You have the needles?”
His stomach tightened. Needles were not a good sign. Jake saw the color drain out of Claire’s face. He smiled down at her and hoped she didn’t notice the worry eating a hole into his gut.
A burst of cinnamon apple infiltrated the room. Jake guessed it originated from the bags Franklin had dropped onto a nearby table.
Burlington’s gun hand twitched. The slight movement provided a tell-tale sign that someone wasn’t as comfortable with a handgun as he wanted them to believe. The idea made Jake curl his lip in a smirk; finding a chink in someone’s armor always made him happy.
“Your silence does not bode well for your answer, Mr. Franklin.” Burlington tapped his foot impatiently. “Where are the needles?”
“In the car.” The big man kept his eyes on the floor.
Burlington pursed his lips and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. His jaw went rigid.
Jake’s spirits rose. Finally, something was going their way. If Burlington blew up at his bodyguard, Jake had to be ready to take advantage of the situation. He dropped Claire’s hand and moved a half step in front of her. His arms hung loose at his sides.
Burlington turned his gaze toward Jake and the hairs on his neck spiked. One false move and this would go south real quick. He had to get Claire out of here.
“Mr. Franklin, this type of negligence will not be tolerated. If you cannot improve yourself, you will not be accompanying Mrs. Burlington and me to South America. Get the needles now!” Red spots of frustration dotted his cheeks.
“Yes, sir.”
Without another word, the thug shuffled out into the parking lot.
Burlington swiveled the gun back to Claire. “My patience has grown thin, Ms. Layton. Put the phone and the flash drive on the table.”
Claire hurled the devices at their tormentor. They flew by Burlington’s head, missing him by at least a foot, and bounced off a round dining table.
Quick as a snake, Burlington fired a bullet into the hardwood floor. The wood cracked beside her feet.
Claire screamed as she jumped into the air.
Fear grabbed Jake’s heart and squeezed. Her scream vibrated inside his head. Panicked, he shoved her shaking body behind him, primed to launch himself at Burlington.
“You look quite savage, Mr. Warrick. I suggest you not act out the violent fantasy playing in your head.” He cocked the gun. “As for you, Ms. Layton, if you knew the women in my life, you would know that I am quite practiced at dodging missiles.” He shrugged his shoulders as if the entire situation was all too common for him. “Take a seat, both of you.”
Clair huffed behind him and flopped down into a chair. “Bastard.”
Jake eased into the seat next to her, on the lookout for an opportunity to at least get her out of here. He didn’t mind taking his chances, but he wouldn’t risk her life for a bit of evidence.
Franklin trotted back in, his face flushed. The goon must not be used to running in the summer heat. Either that or his head still ached from the omelet pan Jake had cracked against the big man’s skull.
The giant clasped a small envelope-sized black case in one gargantuan fist. “The needles.”
“Put the needles on the table, Mr. Franklin, then go stand next to Ms. Layton. We don’t want Mr. Warrick to forget what is at stake here.”
Claire flinched when Franklin moved beside her, cigar smoke and sweat floating like an invisible cloud around him. The asshole chuckled.
