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I sigh, falling back in my chair heavily to demonstrate just how fucking tired I am of his egotistical shit. “Higham, if you could arrest either of us, we’d already be in cuffs.”
“You’d be a big catch for me.”
“Are we back talking about sharks again, Higham?” James asks, making me frown.
“What about sharks?” I ask.
“Higham likes to fry big fish.”
“You don’t get much bigger than us.” I smile at an exasperated Agent Higham.
“Indeed you don’t, but as I have explained to James before you arrived back in Miami, as much as I know you two have more murders to your names than the inmates of Florida State Prison put together, there are either no bodies or no evidence.”
“Oh, I see.” I look at James. “Do you see?”
“I see.”
“We see,” I confirm, facing Higham, who looks like he’s about ready to bash our heads together. I chuckle to myself, peeking out the corner of my eye to James. His face is dead straight, but I can see he’s getting a bit of light relief with me. “So, for the avoidance of doubt,” I go on. “Are you saying that in order to cuff us, you need some dead bodies or evidence to prove James and I may or may not have killed a few men?”
“Yes.”
“And while we’re pretty big fucking fish, probably the biggest, you accept you will never get us in those cuffs?”
“Yes.”
“And you accept that oursupposedcrimes—because theyaresupposed, Higham, let’s be clear on that—are a direct result of the other scum roaming the streets of Miami trying to rule it, and if they were not around, you accept the crime rates would, as everyone wants, including us, drop significantly?”
“Yes.”
“And the FBI and MPD will ease the squeeze around our necks if we intercept a few supposed murders and hand the culprit over to you to prosecute?”
“I suppose that is indeed what I am saying.”
I slap the table with my palm, smiling. “Why didn’t you just say so?” I fall back in my chair. “I feel like we’ve been around the houses a bit, Higham.”
Exasperated, he stands, picking up his coffee as he does and finishing it. “If there was ever an award for most sarcastic crime lord, Danny, you’d get it.”
“I’d rather win the award for most dangerous, actually.”
“Fight you for it,” James practically growls beside me. “And I’ll win.”
“We’ll see,” I reply, smiling at Higham. “I’ll let you know how this pans out.”
“And my offer?”
“We’ll think about it.”
“Maybe this will sway you.” He pushes a picture across the table, and James and I both lean in to look. “We believe this may be The Chameleon.”
I frown. “The Chameleon? I’ve never heard of The fucking Chameleon.”
“Now you have. Polish. Replaced The Hound, who I now suspect was in the vehicle that blew up after James was released from custody after being wrongly arrested for Frank Spittle’s death. The Chameleon works under The Shark.” Higham pushes another picture toward us. “And this here, we believe, is The Leprechaun.”
“Don’t tell me.” James places a fingertip on the picture and drags it forward. “Irish.”
“Good guess,” I mutter.
“Replaced The Alligator, Roake, who replaced The Snake.”
