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I had numerous calls to make checking on my plans for the evening. But those would have to wait. Paying attention to the route the unknown driver was taking was more important.
Always pay attention to your surroundings, Nebraska. Never allow yourself to get distracted. Always know where you are and know when your route is being diverted.
One of the many lessons Charlie had pressed upon me played in my mind. The Honda merged into the left lane exit headed to Miami Beach.
So far so good.
All I needed was to meet up with Walter then I’d be headed back to the airport to catch a flight out of the country.
That was if Walter felt like being on time. If not I’d sleep at the hotel and leave tomorrow.
Knowing Walter would likely be his normal hour behind schedule, I booked a suite with a kickass tub. Later I’d order a bottle of red wine and take a soak.
It would do nothing to ease my stress but it would be the last bath I’d have for the foreseeable future so I was determined to enjoy it.
Three hours later I found I was correct when Walter moseyed into the bar forty-five minutes late—fifteen minutes shy of my estimation—looking like he’d been on a four-day bender.
“Miami looks like it’s agreeing with you,” I fibbed.
Walter’s clear, bright eyes locked with mine belying his haggard appearance.
“Nice to see you too, Dove.”
I took in his appearance. The man looked more like a drunken beach bum—five months overdue for a haircut, same with a beard trim, clothes clean but well-worn—instead of the seasoned spy I knew him to be. Though he’d never worked for the CIA, he was still a spy in every sense of the meaning. If you didn’t want people to know your business you took great pains to not know Walter. The problem was, Walter made it his business to know everyone. If you didn’t want him selling what he knew about you to your enemies, you bought his silence. If you needed a cover and had the money, you went to Walter.
The guy was a master at blending in.
“Going native,” I mumbled.
With a nonchalant shrug of confirmation he handed me the thick manilla envelope he’d brought with him.
“I heard you met with Viper earlier,” he started with a frown. “Not smart, baby girl. You know better than to show yourself to the enemy.”
I let the baby girl comment slide.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” I queried as a brush off to his censure.
“There is no enemy worth getting yourself tangled with Viper over unless you’re ready for a rectal exam. Word is he’s not gentle and has yet to discover that lube makes the process less painful.”
I felt my mouth twist in disgust.
“Thanks for the imagery. What’s next? Are you going to start humming My Humps and get that stuck in my head, too?”
Walter’s confusion at my song choice stated plain he wasn’t familiar with the Black Eyed Peas and it would take more time than I was willing to expend to explain who Fergie and will.i.am were.
(By the way, you’re welcome… My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump. My lovely lady lumps my lovely lady lumps.)
“Never mind,” I muttered and waved the envelope. “Thanks for coming through.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
That was the second time in the last few hours two people had essentially said the same thing. The truth was I knew exactly what I was doing, it just wasn’t a very good idea. Sooner or later my meeting with Zane was going to catch up with me. My only hope was by the time that happened my mission would be complete. Then I could do the very thing I’d always said I’d never do—beg for forgiveness.
I was absolutely sure pleading with Zane Lewis for mercy would taste like shit.
But what was a girl to do? I needed Maddon to believe I was onboard with his idiocy even if it meant Zane Lewis performed an outpatient colonoscopy on me.
“Don’t I always?” I replied with more bravado than confidence.
