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Crossing his office, he opened his safe and withdrew a file folder. In the folder was a list of names, phone numbers, and locations. He ran his finger down the list, wishing he had the computer skills to make a spreadsheet. It would be easier to search.
But he didn’t have the skills and he couldn’t trust anyone to type it for him. Not even Ashley, his assistant. She was willing to sleep with her boss, but he didn’t think she’d be okay with the darker parts of his job. Plus, computers could be hacked, and this list was worth more than a ton of gold.
Especially in times like this.
Ah. There he is.The name he’d been searching for. Tyson Whitley, Dallas, Texas. He dialed the number and waited for the man to pick up.
“Yeah?” It was a wary greeting.
“Do you know who this is, Mr. Whitley?”
Tyson drew a sharp breath. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m calling my favor due.”
An audible gulp. “How did you find me?”
“You should know by now that I have many resources at my disposal. You are one of them.”
A few seconds passed, then Tyson folded. “What d’ya want from me?”
“I want you to go to the hospitals closest to Mont Belvieu, Texas, and search for a gunshot wound victim. Goes by Stockman.” Which wasn’t Stockman’s real name. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever known Stockman’s real name, actually. And it didn’t matter now.
“All right. And when I find him?”
“Kill him.”
Tyson sucked in a shocked breath. “What? I ain’t no killer.”
“You will be if you want to remain a free man. And if you don’t want your wife to find out that you sold drugs and guns to middle school children. I can ruin your life faster than you can hang up the phone.”
There was a long, long moment of silence during which he wasn’t certain if Tyson would comply. But then the man grunted, “Send me a photo in case he’s using an alias.”
“There’s the intelligent man I was looking for,” Lamont said mildly. “I’ll send you a photo. Once you’ve finished your task, text me with the words ‘It’s a beautiful day’ then delete all of our messages and the photo from your phone.”
“And then we’re square?”
“And then we’re square.” Unless he needed Tyson again, of course. “Text me when you’ve found him, then again when he’s dead.”
“Okay. Then you’ll leave me alone, right?”
“Of course,” he lied, smooth as silk, then ended the call.
One down, one to go. He searched the list for another name, one he’d called before. Cornell Eckert’s parents had met with a bloody end and most people thought that Eckert had done it. It was certainly probable, but because Eckert was too smart to leave evidence, he’d never been charged.
Except that one time when he’d left a witness alive. Which hadn’t caused Eckert any issues. Because I made it go away. Stockman had taken care of the witness, and Eckert had walked away a free man.
Thus, the man owed him big-time and Lamont intended to collect. Eckert was a bounty hunter and a damn good one. He also was a hit man. Sometimes he was both at the same time, when the quarry could be brought in dead or alive.
Like the Houston kid.
Lamont dialed, then waited. Then frowned. The bastard wasn’t answering. He’d almost ended the call when the line clicked and a sleepy voice answered, “What?”
“So, you’re alive.”
A heartbeat of silence. Then, “Fucking hell. I thought we were done.”
“Nope. One more.”
