“That sounds dangerous,” Chas blurted in alarm.
The other men shrugged, supremely unconcerned.
“Hello. Civilian here. I’m a kindergarten teacher, for God’s sake. I’m no commando.” When nobody responded, he added a little desperately, “Just running away from those guys was more than I could handle. Knowing I’m bait in a trap—” He made a slashing motion with his hand. “Not a chance.”
“It could work,” Gunner said eagerly.
“No. It could not,” Chas objected.
“Aww, c’mon, Chas. Have I let anything bad happen to you or Poppy? It would be a ton easier to stay ahead of these guys without Poppy to worry about. We could lead them right into a sweet ambush.”
“Or end up ambushed ourselves!”
“Give it a chance. Let us come up with a plan and run it past you. Just think about it.”
“Why can’t you be the bait if you’re so eager to die?”
“I won’t die—”
“You forget, I was in Misty Falls the night they shot it up. I’ve seen these gangsters at work. They’re vicious and efficient. I want nothing to do with them.” Then, his voice sounding more desperate than he’d ever heard it, he added, “And I don’t want you anywhere near them either.”
“Aww,” Spencer and Drago said in unison, as if he was nothing short of adorable. Gunner grinned, looking a little embarrassed.
“What?” Chas demanded, indignant.
“That’s sweet of you to be so concerned for me, Chas,” Gunner murmured.
“Fuck off, Gunner.”
That sent Gunner’s eyebrows shooting skyward as he commented blandly, “Watch your language in front of the baby, Chasten.”
Chas glared at Gunner, stood up with Poppy in his arms, and marched outside to show her around the front yard. It was a warm afternoon, one of the last of the fall, and she would enjoy being outside after so much time cooped up in cars. As for him, he was going to attempt to climb down off his homicidal ledge and chill the heck out.
The other three men spent all afternoon with their heads together. They relocated to a big, scarred dining room table that must have come with the house and spread out a giant map of the United States. They seemed to think it was a good idea to draw their pursuers far away from the nation’s capital before confronting them. As long as Poppy stayed in this area, Chas reluctantly agreed to lead the bad guys away from her, which was the least violent plan the group came up with. Apparently the idea was for him and Gunner to go on a road trip through rural places. Somewhere a bunch of Asian mafiosos would stand out and be hindered from operating freely.
After supper, a man named Charles Favian arrived and joined the discussion. He came armed with a ton of information about the various Yakuza clans and American gangs. His best guess was that the Oshiros were behind Poppy’s abduction.
Apparently the Oshiros controlled drug smuggling through several major shipping ports in America, and appeared to be trying to branch out into Asia. If that was the case, it could explain clashes between the Oshiro and Tanaka clans over the past year or two. The CIA analyst believed the Oshiros were attempting to challenge old Yakuza control of various Asian ports.
When Chas challenged Favian over why the Oshiros would shoot up Misty Falls if they already had possession of Poppy, he had no answers.
Chas didn’t like any of this. They were all missing something big, and that big thing was the main source of danger to Poppy. They might know more about who she was, but they were still missing the key to understanding who was chasing her—and them.
Favian also swabbed the inside of Poppy’s cheek and put the sample in a test tube that he sealed up and stuck in his pocket.
Chas liked him. The man wore hopelessly unfashionable corduroy pants, and his shirt looked like it had never seen the hot side of an iron. But his gray eyes were clear and shockingly intelligent.
The hour got late, and Spencer asked Chas, “What kind of sleeping arrangements do we need to make for the baby? I confess to not knowing a thing about little kids.”
“She can sleep anywhere. It’s containing her when she wakes up that’s the problem. If you’re not awake before she is, there’s no telling what she could get into. She’s at that age where she’ll open cabinets or drawers, climb all over, and put anything she finds into her mouth.”
Spencer eyed her as if she was a bomb about to go off.
“If there’s a big-box store open nearby, I can run out and grab a portable playpen,” Chas offered. “She could sleep safely in that.”
Gunner objected quickly, “I’d rather have you not leave me, Chas. You and I both will be recognized by the hostiles.”
“I thought we lost them in Pennsylvania,” Chas blurted.
“Gangs will have their own full-time hackers. And where there are security cameras or closed-circuit TVs, there are searchable records of human faces,” Drago explained. “Hackers are way ahead of most governments in messing with facial recognition, and we could be spotted walking into a store anywhere in America.”
Chas shuddered. “We really don’t have privacy anymore, do we?”
The other men shrugged. “Nature of the beast,” Gunner murmured.
“I can go buy a playpen,” Charles volunteered. “Nobody chasing the child knows about me.”
After some discussion, they all agreed that he would be the best choice to go out in public and buy baby gear, though he looked less than excited about the prospect.
It took nearly an hour, and several texted pictures from Favian, to get the right product selected and purchased, but by nine o’clock or so, he’d returned to the farmhouse armed with a playpen and a high chair.
Poppy was in full meltdown by the time he returned, and the big bad commandos wrestled through getting the playpen unpacked and set up while Chas gave her a bath, which she screamed through. Chas laid her down in the playpen, and she crashed immediately. Thank God.
He went downstairs, and Gunner handed him a glass of white wine in silence.
“Ahh, adult time,” Chas sighed in relief.
“Quite a set of lungs that kid has on her,” Spencer commented wryly.
Chas responded by draining his wine and holding out the glass for a refill. Gunner grinned and obliged.
“Ready to hear the plan we’ve put together?” Gunner asked him when he’d put a dent in the second glass of wine.
“So the wine wasn’t a reward for a good day’s parenting but rather a bribe to liquor me up before you tick me off?” he asked.
Gunner shrugged. “I’ve been taught to use every tool at my disposal to achieve my objectives.”
“Then you should have taken me to bed,” Chas snapped.
Spencer laughed behind him, and Chas whipped around, his face hot. Their host was kind enough not to tease him about it, however, and merely said mildly to Gunner, “I like this man.”
“Glad you approve,” Gunner grumbled.
Spencer said, “Dray and I are starting a small security firm and were thinking about hiring a few people we know and trust from our former government careers.” He added with a smile, “And once we get on our feet, the pay will be considerably better than Uncle Sam can offer.”