Hot Six (Stephanie Plum 6) - Page 92
“Yeah. There's this problem in Trenton, and everybody's busy trying to fix it.”
Like, could the problem be a dead guy in Hannibal's garage? “Must be some problem,” I said. “Maybe you should be helping.”
“I already helped. I'm putting the problem on a boat next week. With any luck, the boat will sink.”
Okay, now I'm stumped. I don't know how they're going to get the dead guy on a boat. I don't know why they'd want to put the dead guy on a boat.
Since I wasn't having any luck getting Ramos out of my car, I drove the short distance to Sal's, and we went inside and took a table. Ramos slugged back a shot and lit up. “I'm going back to Greece next week,” he said. “You want to go back with me? We could get married.”
“I thought you were through with marriage.”
“I changed my mind.”
“I'm flattered, but I don't think so.”
He shrugged and poured out another shot. “Suit yourself.”
“This problem in Trenton—is it business?”
“Business. Personal. It's all the same for me. Let me give you some advice. Don't have kids. And if you want to make a good living, guns are the way to go. That's all my advice.”
My cell phone rang.
“What's going on?” Ranger said.
“I can't talk now.”
His voice was unusually tight. “Tell me you're not with Ramos.”
“I can't tell you that. Why didn't you return my call?”
“I had to turn my phone off for a while. I just got back, and Tank said he saw you pick Ramos up.”
“It wasn't my fault! I was down here looking for you.”
“Well, you'd better be well hidden, because three cars just left the compound, and my guess is they're looking for Alexander.”
I flipped the phone shut and dropped it into my purse. “I have to go,” I told Ramos.
“That was your boyfriend, right? He sounds like a real asshole. I could have him taken care of, if you know what I mean.”
I flipped a twenty onto the table and grabbed the bottle of booze. “Come on,” I said, “we can take this with us.”
Ramos looked over my shoulder to the door. “Oh Christ, look who's here.”
I was afraid to look.
“It's my baby-sitters,” Alexander said. “Can't even wipe my ass without an audience.”
I turned and almost passed out with relief that it wasn't Hannibal. They were both in their late forties, dressed in suits. They looked like they ate a lot of pasta, and probably didn't refuse dessert either.
“They need you back at the house,” one of the men said.
“I'm with my lady friend,” Alexander said.
“Yeah, but maybe you could see her some other time. We still can't find that cargo that's going on the boat.”
One of them walked Alexander out the door, and the other stayed behind to talk to me.
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