“Come on, Tiger.” He climbed up and moved next to her. Offering her his hand, he helped ease her out of the booth. “Let’s go.”
It was much more difficult to get intel on this Hamlet than Boone liked to admit. And it wasn’t because of law enforcement. The hodunk little town had a force of five, and one of them did nothing but sit inside the station house on her ass all day. Plus, Pope reported that they had a Barbie on staff: tiny, small, with blonde hair and tits out to there. Boone wasn’t worried.
No, it wasn’t the Hamlet Sheriff Department that nagged at him. It was the locals.
They were way too fucking friendly.
What happened to good old-fashioned city folk who turned their nose up whenever a stranger walked by? The kind of people who’d trample you when you were down, rather than give you a hand to help you stand? From what he heard from the other team, you couldn’t take a leak without three locals offering to hold your dick.
It all started the afternoon that Mathers sent Pope and O’Dell in to check the small town out. Everyone was friendly. Helpful. They might have eyed them a little more cautiously—and they’d have good reason to—but that didn’t stop Pope from planting a couple of seeds, putting a couple of feelers out.
Then there was the time O’Dell went back and got held up by some guy and his wife. They wanted to greet the outsider, and maybe ask what he was doing in Hamlet. After he said he was thinking about moving there, the pair insisted on taking him on a tour throughout the entire damn town, interrogating him the whole time.
O’Dell was a professional. He didn’t give up a single detail that would implicate their boss. But neither did he learn anything about Grace that they didn’t already know.
It was Pope who hit the jackpot, finding out about the Hamlet Inn and, when it was confirmed Grace wasn’t there, then Ophelia.
So they knew where Grace was. Only problem was getting to her. The pair snuck in after dark one night, looking for some way to take the woman from the bed and breakfast. It was impossible. Even worse? They got stopped by Deputy Barbie on their way out and had to spin some story about being lost. She escorted them out of town herself, kindly allowing them to follow close behind her cruiser, before watching as they drove away.
Since then, Boone changed the way they approached this mission. Outsiders stuck out like a sore thumb.
Fact. If they got spotted again, how much longer before it got back to Grace? That’s when he came up with the idea of blending in.
With Mathers’ approval, he arranged to pick up a golf cart that mimicked the one he saw putt-putting on the outskirts of town sometimes. A blue cap to cover Pope’s noticeable hair and a thick scarf to hide his face. Voilà. He had eyes and ears in town and none of the locals were any wiser.
Pope was still wearing the ridiculous blue cap. He took it off, shaking out his hair, running his hands anxiously through the length before slapping his side with the lid of his cap. After what Pope just confessed to him, Boone understood the nerves.
He was feeling a touch uneasy himself.
“We’ve got to tell the boss about that.”
Boone shook his head. “Are you stupid? You want to see him lose it?”
Pope hesitated. No one ever wanted to see Mathers lose it. When in control, his employer was level-headed, ruthless, and cold. When he wasn’t, he was a powder keg primed to go off. One spark and Mathers would explode. Sometimes he shouted, but the worst times? He stayed eerily quiet.
That’s when people died. And, in Boone’s experience, there was often collateral damage.
Pope didn’t answer him.
“That’s what I thought.”
Discovering Grace was involved with another man would break Mathers. He knew that. Pope knew it, too. There was no reason to tell him, not when it wouldn’t actually change anything. He would still gun for Grace with his compulsive certainty. But the poor bastard who thought he could slip in and take Thomas Mathers’ place? He’d pay for it.
Collateral damage was right. And Boone had no doubt he’d have to take care of it.
Mathers had the name, and he had the power. He never got his hands dirty unless he had to. Boone preferred it that way. It was much easier to clean up messes when he didn’t leave any.
“Is that all?”
“Yes. O’Dell is on watch. No one ever takes that turn by the big fucking hole so we’ve found we can park there undetected. Anyone comes or goes, he’ll know.”
“That’s good. Leave it like that for now or until Mathers gives you new instructions. Oh, and Pope? Don’t forget what we talked about.”
“Gotcha.”
The second Pope left, the connecting door to Boone’s room opened. Mathers marched right in and, without any greeting, snapped out, “I want to hear Pope’s report.”
From the crazed gleam in his dark blue eyes, Boone was willing to bet he already knew.