Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

I grabbed his arm and twisted it, bringing him to his knees.

"Jay-sus!" Cooper's twang turned the oath into a southern revival shout.

I switched holds, getting his arm behind his back, and twisting again. Then I shoved him into the room and knocked the door shut behind me. When he tried to pull free, I gave a warning twist, then kicked the back of his kneecap. As he buckled, I used the momentum to drop him face-first to the floor, still holding his arm.

"Scream, and I'll snap your wrist," I said.

The door opened, and Jack slipped in. A click as he locked it behind him.

He glanced at Cooper, then moved alongside the wall, gun drawn. He took up position out of Cooper's sight, but where he could cover both us and the door.

"The money's in my back pocket," Cooper said through his teeth. "Some product there, too."

"I wouldn't touch your 'product' or the money from it." I leaned over him, letting more of my weight fall on his back. "A guy came to you, looking for--"

"Lost of people come to me. Looking for lots of things."

A small twist on his arm. Just enough for him to let out a hiss.

"That wasn't a question," I said. "Pay attention, and we'll get through this a whole lot faster. This guy goes by the name Baron. Wanted to 'prove' himself to you. Offered to do a random hit..."

Cooper audibly swallowed. "I want a lawyer."

I leaned down to his ear, still staying behind where he couldn't get a look at me. "Is this how cops usually roust you, Cooper? You have a pocket full of something that would get you in very big trouble...if I was a cop. But that's complicated. So this is how it works. I'm not a cop. You're not a drug-dealing death broker. I'm a concerned citizen. You're a concerned citizen. We're going to share our concerns about Mr. Baron. He isn't a client of yours, is he?"

"Shee-it, no. He's lost it. Right over the fucking edge. I'm staying clear."

"Good plan. And as a concerned citizen, you want to make sure he isn't a danger to anyone else, so--without admitting to any association with the man--you'll tell me how I can get in touch with him."

A moment of silence passed. I knew Cooper was weighing his options. He could claim he hadn't taken any contact information from Baron. Or he could provide false information. But after about twenty seconds, he said, "He gave me his number. It's on my cell phone."

He directed me to the phone in his pocket. I took it out, then slid it back to Jack. As Jack checked it, I waited, gun to Cooper's head. He'd know then that I had a partner, but showed no sign of surprise. Cops always had partners, and he thought that's what I was, no matter what I said to the contrary. It was a fair game--cops pretending to be civilians so they don't have to follow the rules, which meant he didn't need to worry about getting busted.

Jack nodded, telling me the number was in there. He punched it into the address book on his prepaid throw-away phone, then erased it from Cooper's, and slid it back across the floor.

I put it into Cooper's pocket. Then I took out the bills Jack had given me to pay for the information. I didn't see the point, but Jack insisted, and it was his money, so paid Cooper would be.

Yet even as I stood, bills held out, I found myself hesitating. I expected Jack to grunt or give me some sign to pay the guy and get on with it. When he didn't, I looked over and saw him there, expressionless and patient. Waiting.

His gaze met mine. I looked away and let the bills flutter down beside Cooper.

* * *

THIRTEEN

On the drive back to Evelyn's, Jack stopped at a desolate rest area pay phone to try the number Cooper gave us. I sat in the rental car, sipping bitter coffee and watching him at the booth, hunched against the cold night air, his back to me, breath streaming like smoke signals. I rolled down my window, but was too far to overhear him. A night bird squawked. I turned to gaze at the woods surrounding the rest area and thought of home.

When he came back, he was frowning, gaze distant in that way that I'd learned meant I had to be patient.

We were on the highway before he spoke. "Someone answered. Wasn't him."

"Cooper gave us the wrong number?" I shook my head before Jack could answer. "No, I guess that's not very likely. He'd have no reason to keep a false number and if it was in some kind of code, he'd have said so. He didn't seem to be holding out. So either Baron gave him the wrong number--which doesn't make sense--or Baron's changed it." I glanced over at Jack, reading his expression. "Or none of the above."

"Was Baron's number. Just not him."

I considered venting my frustration in a comment about Jack's own code, and the mental gymnastics required to crack it, but he didn't seem in the mood for jibes. He'd gone quiet again, probably thinking about Baron.

"The person who answered, did he seem to know Baron?"