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Of course, there can be no phone or trackers or anyone following me when I meet him tonight, at a location yet to be disclosed. Just money.
We don’t have money, fuck, but we’ll deal with that when I meet Reznik. Roey has a negotiation plan in mind.
Seth Gordon calls Roey.
“I’m not giving Reznik another penny,” Gordon says sharply on speaker. “Nor do I trust you with handling this operation well. But I want my daughter back. You do that, you get paid. You want to handle this properly? Accept help.”
“Help?” Roey exchanges glares with me and Miller.
“Brexton Recovery will call you shortly. You need to cooperate with them.”
When he hangs up, Roey jams a cigarette between his lips and stalks to the open window to smoke.
“Motherfuckers,” he mouthes. “They’re arriving in two hours. They must’ve had an assignment nearby.”
“Gordon gave them Reznik yesterday,” I remind him.
“Oh, right. Fuckers.”
We have several hours before the meeting, so we sit down to discuss the plan of action.
Roey calls Kolchak and requests a few guys on standby in Brighton.
“Inconspicuously,” Roey says, but you don’t need to explain that to ex-military guys.
When the doorbell rings, Roey lifts his eyes to me with a smirk on his lips. “Ready for them to rub horse shit in our faces?”
Amon’s the first one to come in. Jeans, a T-shirt, shoulder-long blond hair like he’s going surfing in a moment—he’s wearing a wig—and a mustache.
“Da fuck?” I murmur.
Roey snorts. “At least you were smart enough to wear a disguise.”
Amon pulls the wig off.
“Fucking hot,” he says, throwing himself onto the couch next to me. “My other guy is helping a girl with a stroller downstairs not to be obvious. Another one is a pizza delivery guy. In case your place is being watched. You are slipping, Torres. We should’ve met elsewhere.”
Amon turns to grin at me. Actuallygrins, fucker. “Got yourself into a pickle, Shooter?” He nudges me with his shoulder.
Roey has a beef with the Brexton guys. Me, I understand the rivalry but actually like Amon. He’s only in his thirties but has a brutal and deserved reputation in the bounty-hunting business.
His other guys come in shortly.
Two hours later, it’s six o’clock, and we’ve mapped out the plan of action. We have the Kolchak guys on standby, expecting the meeting to be in Brighton Beach but ready to send them anywhere. Brighton is Reznik’s home turf, and the city is much easier for him to get lost in if something goes wrong.
Miller installed a tracker inside one of my shoe soles. Unless Reznik uses a metal detector, he won’t find it, but Miller will know where I am at all times so our guys don’t have to follow me and take a chance of being spotted.
“There’s your backpack for when Reznik’s guys check you on the street, as I’m sure they will,” Roey says as Amon stuffs it with bundles of fake money. They came prepared.
Amon stares me down. “Nervous, Shooter?”
I don’t answer. I wouldn’t be if Lu’s life wasn’t in jeopardy.
“We’ll track you. Don’t worry.” Amon winks at me.
“Reznik has my girlfriend. It’s not a game,” I murmur.
He rolls his eyes. “Relax. I saw her photo. Did you show off your sniper skills or something to rope her in?”
