Promises Part 3 (Bounty Hunters 3)

Ford rubbed the thick hairs on his full beard. “I wouldn’t know.”

Dana chanced a look at Ford, but he was looking straight ahead as he took DeKalb towards Edgewood. It was a run-down neighborhood with old townhomes. There were tons of side streets and forest to provide coverage or a quick getaway.

They were quiet the rest of the way, only speaking if it was about the case. They hadn’t even mentioned last night or the lingering elephant in the backseat. Were they interested in each other or not? Was Ford bisexual or gay? The man lived a private, isolated life, so it wasn’t common knowledge which way he swung, but Dana could read body language and Ford was giving him crazy rhythm.

The GPS announced that their destination was on the left. The home looked like it had been abandoned or was the victim of a drive by, more than likely, both. The Grossmans had enemies and rival gang leaders everywhere. The windows were boarded up, a couple of the ones downstairs had graffiti spray-painted on them. The foundation was unstable and unlivable. There was no one there and hadn’t been for a while. “This is a bust,” Dana huffed.

“Let’s take a quick look when the sun goes down,” Ford answered, his dark eyes taking in the surroundings of the empty house. “We can probably pop that board off on the side and get in that way.”

“Whatever you say,” Dana sighed, leaning back and getting comfortable. He didn’t expect to see much activity and they still had some time before it was dark enough for them to sneak inside.

Ford cut his eyes over to him but didn’t let them linger long. It was at least thirty minutes before Ford spoke up, his deep voice staggering even in the large cab. “You wanna talk about… you know. Just so we’re on the same page?”

Dana swallowed a thick lump of air, his heart accelerating at the possibility of getting some answers. “Sure. If you want to.”

Dana decided to let Ford start. He’d initiated this, so Dana would let him get what he needed off his chest first. “Um. I think we should just start over. Squash all that old stuff.”

Dana acknowledged that he was listening. He wasn’t making eye contact, but neither was Ford. Instead, his sharp eyes were still directed at the run-down house. Squash it? “When you say start over, do you mean—?”

“Before we clamped onto each other’s throats. That’s what I mean.” Ford finally looked at him. “Fact is, we have a job to do and petty bullshit can’t get in the way.”

“I agree. I think we can drop it, then.” Dana chuckled humorlessly. “Although, I’m not quite sure what exactly it is that we’re dropping. Are we dropping the cold shoulder you keep giving me? Are we dropping the constant bickering over nothing? Are we dropping the façade that we’re not—?”

“Who is that?” Ford interrupted, his hand quickly fumbling in the center console for his camera.

Dana turned and looked where Ford was aiming the long scope. A man was cautiously making his way to the side of the same house they were watching. He looked Hispanic with olive skin and jet-black hair that was slicked straight back like an old fifties gangster. He had to be around thirty or thirty-five years old at the most. It was the Adidas track suit with the pristine white tennis shoes that made him stick out like a sore thumb and Dana hadn’t even noticed him. Fuck. Hadn’t even seen what direction he came from. This thing between him and Ford was absolutely a distraction. “I don’t recognize him.”

“He came from around the back, through the cut there.” Ford pointed his meaty hand at the house two doors down. “He’s looking for something or someone and he’s being obvious as hell about it. He has to know whose place this is. I wonder what he’s looking for.”

Ford unlocked the doors. “Let’s go ask him.”

They both pulled their bounty hunter stars from beneath their shirts and let them show, suspended around their necks. It was almost dark now. The sky was a deep purple and the couple of streetlights that were still operational on the street had come on, casting an eerie glow on the cracked asphalt. Glad that the lights above them were out, Dana got out first, quickly crossing the street and closing the distance between him and the curious man who was still looking for a piece of board to work loose. Ford took up the rear, watching Dana’s back just like he’d promised. Usually, it was Dana’s job to be the watchman, but he and Ford could unconsciously read what the other needed.

“Looking for something?” Dana asked, making the man startle and drop from where he was standing on a milk crate, prying a board loose.