He agreed and handed over the envelope. The contents would show Romero what type of damning information they had on him.
Killinger sauntered into the poker room and Aiden stayed across the walkway where he could keep an eye on her. She strode right up to Enzo Romero and proffered the sealed white envelope. “You’re a very powerful man with a lot of influence and muscle, and I’m looking to make a deal. Help me get what I want and all the information I have is yours.”
Enzo eyed her from head to toe, then opened the envelope and looked over the single page. His brows lifted. “What do you want?”
“Not money.” She pulled on a smile smooth as cold butter. “I’ll call you tomorrow with details.”
Enzo reached into his suit jacket pocket, whipped out a card and handed it to her. “My private number. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Thank you.” She took the card. “But it’s a little early in the day for me.” She turned and strutted out of the poker room.
Enzo signaled to one of his guards, who took off after Killinger.
In turn, Aiden was right behind him.
Killinger went to the ladies’ room. The guard had the audacity to follow her inside. Aiden had no shame in joining the party.
He shoved through the door fast. As expected, the bodyguard turned and half stepped back, a fluid quarter circle.
Aiden threw a sharp left hook, catching him hard on the ear. The guy’s head snapped sideways as Aiden was already launching a right uppercut that hit him under the chin.
The guard wobbled and swayed, staying on his feet. Killinger jumped up behind him and locked her elbow around his throat in a headlock.
Aiden could’ve been a referee in a ring, counting down the knockout.
Five seconds, and the bodyguard was out cold.
One baited hook had been dropped for Romero.
Time to cast an irresistible, shiny lure for Walsh.
Chapter Thirteen
Devlin shook Tommy’s hand with a pat on the shoulder and strode to the small office in the back of Avido’s.
Inside, Big Bill waved for him to come in. “Can I get you some lunch?” he asked, sprinkling salt on his chicken.
The food smelled wonderful and everything Devlin had ever eaten there had been tasty, but he wanted to get down to business. “I’m good.” He took a seat in one of the leather chairs facing the desk.
Bill set the white porcelain shaker down and took a bite of his food. “What’s the status?”
“Is this place clean?” Devlin asked, referring to listening devices. Bill’s FBI problem was worse than an infestation of roaches.
“Yeah.” Bill nodded. “Tommy swept it this morning.”
“The boys are in Louisiana,” Devlin said. “They checked in with me outside of Lake Charles. Your package can be delivered by five, if you’d like.”
Bill leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin tugging at his mouth. “I’d like that very much.”
“Where?”
Without hesitation and with plenty of zeal, as if he’d given it a lot of thought, perhaps the only thing he’d thought of, Bill said, “Same place we bring the girls through.”
The old port. Bill trafficked young women through on boats in shipping containers. The Coast Guard never went near it, the police were paid to steer clear, and the feds didn’t have a clue Bill used it. A good spot for delivery and whatever else Bill had in store for the package.
“What about the information I need?” Bill cut another piece of chicken and chewed.
“There’s a flash drive that supposedly has everything you could possibly want on it, but the package lost it. I’m working on getting it back.”
“How in the hell are you going to do that?” Bill asked around the food in his mouth.
Devlin crossed his legs and folded his hands, letting his confidence shine through. He had this under control. “The flash drive is in New Orleans.”
“I’m not tracking.” Bill dropped his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Explain.”
“Two marshals that were protecting the package have it. Aiden Yazzie and Charlotte Killinger. I framed them for the murder of one of their own and a local cop. Under the heat, they ran. I made sure to drop bread crumbs that led to me. They followed them and they’re here. In New Orleans.”
“How are you going to get the drive from them?”
“Leave that to me.” One way or another, Devlin would get it and take care of them permanently. “I want the first payment. Three and a half million. Wired now to the same offshore account I used last time.”
“Two million,” Bill said flatly and took a long, hearty sip of his stout beer.
“Your math must be fuzzy. Seven million for the package alive. Half of seven is three and a half.”
“Where’s my proof of life?” Bill gestured dramatically around the office. “I have no doubt that you have him, but Edgar might’ve caught a stray bullet during the kidnapping and could be dead, for all I know. Two now. Five on delivery.”
Devlin reached into his jacket pocket, past his holstered gun, took out a burner phone and dialed.
It rang twice. “What’s up, D?” Tate asked. “We get paid?”
“We need proof of life. Send it now.” Devlin disconnected. Eight seconds later, the phone buzzed. Devlin opened the text, bringing up a picture of the package.
His wrists and mouth were duct-taped, and he was wide-eyed with terror. A receipt from a gas station, with today’s date and time stamp, was next to his head.
Devlin held up the phone, the picture facing out. He zoomed in on the receipt and then refocused on the package’s horrified face.
Evil amusement lit up Bill’s eyes as he flashed a Cheshire cat grin. “Three and a half million it is.”
* * *
THEIR HALF-BAKED plan might get them both killed.
At least death would put her out of her misery, but the thought of anything bad happening to Aiden made Charlie physically ill. She could tolerate a lot, but not that.
She walked beside Aiden down quiet St. Philip Street in the heart of the French Quarter. The city was steeped in history, practically dripping with it. Nineteenth-century homes that lined the road resembled colorful dollhouses. The cheery, built-to-withstand-anything atmosphere was a stark contrast to their predicament and the current status of their friendship.
Charged silence stretched between them, prickling her nerves.
When she sidestepped a stray glass bottle as an excuse to move closer to Aiden, their hands brushed. He recoiled as if he couldn’t bear the slightest physical contact with her and quickened his pace.