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He shakes his head. “And you’ve found nothing,” James says, joining them and taking a peek.
“Actually...” Otto fades off, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“Actually what?”
“Where’s the original image?” he asks, looking between me and James. I point my drink to James, who dips into his back pocket and pulls out the pictures, handing them to Otto, who’s accepts while stroking his beard with his other hand, concentrating.
“Who the fuck is The Chameleon and The Leprechaun?” Brad yells.
“Two new members of The Bear’s zoo,” I answer. “Polish and Irish. Replacing Roake and The Hound.”
“Great. What the fuck is this, a breeding program?” Brad swigs his drink and refills, while I return my attention to Otto, wondering what the fuck he’s looking at in that picture with such interest.
“Are you going to enlighten us?” I ask, impatient.
“I see it,” James takes the picture from Otto and unbends his body.
For fuck’s sake.“Well?” I press.
“There’s a reflection on his shades.” James squints and looks closer. “Part of a neon bar sign.”
“Which one?” I ask.
“Irish.”
Everyone, including me, crowds James, trying to get in on the picture. I see the glimmer of pink lighting, squinting too. “Don’t tell me the FBI missed that.” Ringo grunts, his fat nose wrinkling. “It’s obviously the Pink Flamingo Lounge Bar Downtown.”
“They didn’t miss it.” I move away and sip my drink, going to the window and looking down on the busy club. “These two men are a gift.”
“What?” Brad asks, confused.
“Higham wants The Bear. He knows we’re the best way to achieve that, whether he uses us as bait or our skills as hunters.” I pout at the window. “Drive everyone else out of town so there is only us, and we bob along quite nicely on our own, don’t we?” I face the room. “I can’t deny it, it would be quite peaceful with only us.”
Brad laughs. “Are you joking? We’re like magnets for the rookie crime lords. And the non-rookie ones, for that matter. Russians, Polish, and Irish case in point. And is everyone forgetting Beau’s dad is running for mayor? That prick is not going to make our lives easy as long ashe”—he points a finger at James—“is dating his precious daughter.”
“Precious?” James coughs, on the verge of knocking Brad out. “She wasn’t so precious when he left her in a hospital.”
I step in before all hell breaks loose. Or, at least, I delay it. “Who’s running against him?” I ask.
“Monroe Metcalfe,” Otto answers. How the fuck does he have the answer to everything? And what the fuck is with that baseball cap? It doesn’t suit him. “Lawyer.,” he continues. “Moved in from Boston in 2020. Wife, two daughters, and a shining reputation. Charity work, upstanding citizen, pro-bono work.”
“He’s definitely bent,” I say, making James look up at me. “No one that glowing is that straight. Dig deeper. See if he’d be open to discussions.”
“You want to talk?” Ringo asks. “What about?”
“Whether I need to threaten him or if he’ll play nice and take a bribe.” It looks like I’m going back into politics. “People will be more reluctant to step foot in Miami once we’re shot of The Bear and his zoo. Anyone steps in, Higham gets them. And we get to live happily ever after.”
Every single person in the room snorts their thoughts on that. We’ll never live in complete peace. But it’s the closest we’ll ever get, and they all know it.
“Are you saying we’re giving Higham The Bear?” James asks, his tone unimpressed.
“Yeah, I’m saying that. Got a better idea?” I ask, raising my brows.
He doesn’t get to answer, his phone ringing and interrupting. Beth again? And who the fuckisBeth? “I’ve got to take this,” he mutters but, surprisingly, he doesn’t leave the room, instead pacing in front of the glass.
“So what are we doing with this?” Goldie asks, picking up the picture and inspecting it. “Paying a visit to The Pink Flamingo?”
“You craving some girlie cocktails?” Ringo asks, earning a death glare. “Sex on the Beach?”
