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“Don’t matter to me none. Race never has.” Dana shrugged then winked at Kell, “We all black when the lights turn off.”
Kell choked on his saliva trying to hold in his laughter at Dana’s crazy joke.
“I thought you said no personal business on the job,” Ty broke in smoothly, covering his grin. He didn’t raise his head from the file, his tone nonchalant. “Business isn’t concluded for the day. Stay focused.”
Dana shot Ty a frown—that he ignored—then Ty turned his wide brown eyes on Kell. All he could do was sit back with a cheeky smile on his face. Ty was something else.
Ty
Dana circled the large grounds of the posh country club. The parking lot was full for the middle of the day on a Tuesday. Inside were most likely prominent business men, retirees, and well-off housewives, enjoying the good life. Looking around the lavish gardens, no one would expect bounty hunters to roll up and point out a bad apple amongst their pretentious orchard.
“He’s here. That’s his silver Benz right there. I’m gonna back up and park on the side.” Dana pointed out of the window. “I’ll sit on that bench over there until he comes out. When he does, I’m just gonna walk up beside him and show him the warrant. James Smith is a very successful real estate agent, I’m not anticipating a showdown with him. He’ll want to keep things quiet. Still. Keep your eyes open.”
Dana parked the truck where they could still see the front entrance and got out. He casually walked across the parking lot in his jeans and heavy coat as if he was considering a membership. He sat on the bench in front of a fountain, where a couple of older men were talking. The inside of the truck was silent. There was nothing Ty needed to say to Kell that didn’t involve work, and he surely wasn’t about to distract him with what was really on the forefront of his mind.
Have dinner with me again.
Another forty minutes of silence went by before Kell said, “That’s Smith.”
A man dressed in tan khaki pants and a white-collar shirt beneath a thick, navy pullover came out of the front door. He was walking with another man in his late forties, carrying a large TaylorMade golf bag as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Dana tucked his cell phone into his pocket and fell in line behind them. Luckily, the visitor broke off with a wave and headed toward another parking lot. Dana must’ve said something to get the bounty’s attention because he stopped and turned toward Dana with a carefree smile. The moment Dana pulled the warrant from his inside pocket the corners of the man’s mouth turned down.
Dana pointed to where the transport was parked. Ty lowered his tinted window farther. He wanted the disappointed man to see that Dana wasn’t alone. Their bounty hefted his bag onto his shoulder and began his walk of shame. Dana let him lock his expensive golf clubs and a few pieces of jewelry in his trunk first. Their field commander was being lenient, perhaps even showing his trainees how far their compassion could go. Dana hadn’t put the wire cuffs on yet, instead allowing Smith to walk beside him as if they were buddies, so none of the other club members would know what was transpiring. Ty also noticed that Dana didn’t once take his eyes off their skip or get to comfortable with his cooperation. The hunters told them they were to always be on alert.
When they got to the truck Dana smoothly slid the cuffs onto Smith’s wrist and dropped the tailgate for his bounty to climb in. The man grimaced as if he was disgusted—not because the cab was filthy, it wasn’t—as if the mode of transportation was beneath him. When he was inside he sat in the middle of the carpeted bed as if he didn’t want to touch anything that other criminals had touched. Bars and a partition separated their bounty from them. Unlike the couple of others Ty had seen transported so far, Smith didn’t make a sound the entire way. When they pulled up to the sheriff’s office in Fulton County, he broke his silence and asked Dana if he could make a quick phone call before he took him inside, and Dana agreed. Again, showing a measure of kindness.
They gave the man a moment to call what sounded like his wife or his lady. “I don’t know how long before I can get in front of judge. Just call my lawyer, honey, please. Okay. I love you. I’ll be home soon I promise… just. Okay. I love you. I understand. Please don’t leave this time. I swear… I know. I love—” The man hung up without a goodbye, or she did. He turned watery eyes toward Dana, “I’m ready.”
