Page 5 of Parting Shot

I tipped my head toward Sam and lied, “That’s the same Fed who took Javier Musa into protective custody. I saw him at the courthouse when they picked him up after he testified against Pascal.”

His eyes widened, and he stood and slipped around me. “Tonight,” he said, and then he moved away through the crowd.

“Where the hell is he going?” Evanston snarled at me.

I came around the table. Andre squeezed my shoulder as I moved by him, and Benny patted my back as I faced the mob enforcer.

“What the fuck are you doing, bringing a goddamn federal fugitive into Joaquin’s place?”

“What?” he gasped, head swiveling to Kevin Dwyer/Christian Salcedo. “Who the fuck are you, man? You told me you had product to sell to Hierra.”

“I do,” he rushed out. Clearly, he was another plant by a different three-letter agency. The fact that none of these organizations gave each other a heads-up was mind-blowing. “I have no idea what this asshole is talking about.”

“Oh no?” I asked snidely, laying it on thick. “Then why do you have a tail?”

“You’re a liar,” Salcedo scoffed, even as Sam yelled, “Freeze,” over the driving trance music.

“You stupid fuck,” I snarled at Evanston, and because we needed a diversion, I swung on him.

The man had a good fifty pounds of muscle on me, and at six-four, two twenty, I was not small myself. So, when he blocked my throw and drove his fist into my face, I knew it was going to hurt.

It was a fight then, with yelling and screaming, stampeding for the exits, punches flying, and finally guns being drawn.

I wound up on the bottom of a pile, stepped on, kicked, punched, and cut. I had no idea who had the knife, but the diversion created an irresistible opportunity for someone looking to take out a rival. My money was on Pedro, who had never liked me. I was the one who had taken his friend Musa’s place in his boss’s circle after his buddy went to prison for trafficking in stolen goods. He had never made it a secret that he didn’t trust me, and even though he did, in fact, have reason—since I was undercover—he didn’t know that.

By the time I was pulled out from under all the other bodies, I was bleeding enough to know I needed stitches.

“This one’s gotta go to the hospital before booking,” Sam Kage yelled, pulling me to my feet fast, but more gently, I was certain, than anyone would be able to discern.

When he shoved me up against the wall, I groaned.

“Broken?” he asked, leaning in close, talking in my ear as he pinned me there.

“Bruised,” I muttered, giving him the lowdown on the state of my ribs. “Just losing blood.”

“Hold on,” he said so only I could hear. Like I had a choice.

Ten minutes later, I was in an ambulance, on my back, looking up at Sam Kage.

“Asshole,” I barked as the EMT tried to stop the bleeding.

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

“How the fuck does your guy know my guy?” I asked.

We couldn’t do names in front of the tired-looking EMT.

“Before your guy was hired muscle for the family, he worked for my guy in Colombia.”

“Who’s really the doctor,” I grunted.

“Actually, the doctor is the bad guy,” Sam pointed out. “I mean, if you’re concerned about being precise.”

“How the fuck is Salcedo walking around to begin with?” I yelled, using his name before I could stop myself. “I thought he was in federal custody?”

Sam looked at the EMTs. “We’re gonna talk—we need to talk—but you two can repeat nothing, or I’ll charge you both with violating HIPAA laws.”

“Oh no, don’t worry,” the female EMT said. “I’m Margot, and this is Danny, and we would never repeat anything spoken in the sanctity of the ambulance.”