She held a hundred dollar bill out to the man as she approached him.
“We need to get out of here. Can you take us through there?” She nodded toward the door he’d just exited.
The man looked at her as if he didn’t understand English and lit his cigarette, puffing as he ignored the money in her outstretched hand and stared at her face sullenly. Bonnie looked at Finn and shrugged helplessly.
Finn took it from her and held it in front of the eyes of the man who didn’t seem inclined to help, or even acknowledge them. The movement drew the man’s attention from Bonnie’s face to Finn’s hand. The man’s eyes clung to the five dots on Finn’s skin between his thumb and his pointer finger.
“You do time?” he grunted, and his eyes swung up to meet Finn’s.
“Yeah. You?” Finn said, not batting an eye.
“Yeah.” Another grunt in the affirmative. “Long time ago.”
“Verani’s is crawling with cops,” Finn said. “And I don’t especially want to serve any more.”
The man stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete wall and nodded once.
“You two runnin’ ‘cause you’re guilty?” he asked, looking from Bonnie to Finn.
“No. We’re running because we’re not. What’s going down in there has nothing to do with us.”
He nodded again, like that made sense to him.
“I’ll let you two go through. Not him.” He used a jut of his chin to indicate the jittery bartender.
“Wh–what?” The bartender bounced nervously.
“You’re dealin’. I’ve seen you out here. Selling snort. To kids. You go out that way. Take your chances.” He used his chin once again to point toward the entrance to the loading dock. “I’m not helpin’ you.”
The bartender looked to Finn for support, but Finn shook his head, not giving it.
Jagger shrieked out a string of obscenities as he realized he was on his own. “I’m telling everyone I saw her! I’m telling! I’ll tell them Bonnie Rae Shelby came here tonight looking for a hit,” he said, pointing at Bonnie, threatening to tattle like he was nine years old and had been snubbed on the playground.
Finn turned on him with a curse and a well-placed swing to his wagging jaw, and the bartender crumpled into a heap. Out cold. For the second time in five minutes, Finn’s time in prison had come in handy.
“If he does, you can bet I’ll be telling what I know too,” the janitor said, swiping his employee badge in the card reader by the heavy door, disengaging the locks. He held the door wide for Bonnie and Finn, and seemed almost pleased as he tossed a final look at the unconscious dealer laying on the concrete.
“Karma’s a bitch, but I sure like her tonight,” was all he said, and the door swung shut behind them.
It was an office building, cubicles and phone systems packed into the large room that the janitor led them through. When they reached the lobby, he disengaged the alarm, dug in his breast pocket, and handed the bill back to Bonnie, insisting that he didn’t like bribes any better than he liked drug dealers. But he acquiesced and took it back when she signed it with a black sharpie she dug from her purse, telling him it was a gift.
Bonnie gave the old ex-con a big smile as she dropped the pen back into her purse, and he took a step back, momentarily dazzled, lifting his hand in farewell as she slipped out the entrance into the dark street beyond. Finn knew how he felt, and he trailed after the girl who had brought him nothing but a pain in his ass and fire in his heart since the moment he’d met her.
They walked quickly but approached the parking lot warily, trying to remain in the shadows, not knowing what they would find. What they found was chaos. Chaos could be good because it provided cover, but from what he could tell, nobody was being allowed to leave. Something major was going down, and Finn doubted the bust was about Jagger. This was big time—big drugs, big players. Verani’s was a hot spot for more than the music, late hours, and food, apparently, just like the Escalade driver had hinted. It wouldn’t be re-opening anytime soon, and Bonnie and Finn wouldn’t be getting to Bear’s car anytime soon either.
“What time is it?” Finn asked Bonnie. He couldn’t see the face of his watch, and she was the only one with a phone. His throwaway model was in the Charger, and the phone he’d started the trip with was in the Blazer—the first ride they’d had to abandon. He cursed.
“Three. It’s three o’clock in the morning,” she answered. “We’re going to have to leave the car, aren’t we?” As usual, she was taking it in stride.
Finn looked at her soberly.
“That convenience store, the one where we got gas?” he said. Bonnie nodded. “It was a Greyhound stop. I saw the logo in the window. How do you feel about taking the bus?”
Chapter Twenty-One
IT IS NOW believed that Bonnie Rae Shelby and ex-convict, Infinity James Clyde, are driving the black, 2012, Dodge Charger that belongs to Malcolm “Bear” Johnson, Miss Shelby’s long-time bodyguard, and victim of a convenience store shooting yesterday. Mr. Johnson has been upgraded from critical to serious condition, though police say he is still not able to communicate or answer questions at this time.
Allegedly, Shelby and Clyde fled the scene of an accident in the small town of Guymon, Oklahoma, earlier this morning, but a witness to the accident took down their license plate number and later verified that a man and woman matching the description of the couple in question, were indeed driving the vehicle.