You Do What You Have To - 10

 

 

Olivia frowned. "If you were followed, why didn't he kill Micky too? The shooter would have known he was in the house with you."

 

"Ergo, we weren't followed." Darren rubbed his temple, wincing when it pulled on his head wound. "A spy?" He stared hard at Olivia.

 

"As much as I hate the idea, you know as well as I do that's always a possibility. Okay, let's get you out of here. Are you sure you want to go back to your place?"

 

"You know it's secure ten ways to tomorrow. I'll be fine there. Besides"—he looked down at his bare feet—"I need shoes. And my real ID, since I think we can presume my other identity is blown now."

 

"No shit," Olivia muttered. "If the shooter's the one who took your wallet, is there something in there he'd wanted?"

 

"Yeah, the list of Mackenzie's contacts we needed. People Mackenzie would rather not have anyone know he was connected with. That's why I was at the bar in the first place, to meet up with one of them."

 

"How did you get the list?"

 

"Damn, woman, don't you ever read the emails I send you?" He laughed when she gave him the finger. "I got friendly with one of Mackenzie's boy toys I met at the bastard's nightclub. Not that friendly, by the way. We just talked several times until I had his confidence—which I got when I commiserated with him. Apparently Mackenzie is into heavy-duty BDSM and sometimes forgets when to stop. Two weeks ago I ran into the kid again, at the club. He was hurting and pissed and looking for some way to get back at Mackenzie. He said he knew about some people Mackenzie dealt with on the QT, as he put it. I managed to play him well enough that he wrote the names down for me. "

 

"Then you contacted one of the people and?"

 

"Set up the meeting at the bar. He didn't show. I picked up Micky and the rest you know."

 

"Twenty-to-one this kid regretted opening up to you and told Mackenzie what he did."

 

"That would be my guess, now that you mention it." Darren got up. "Shall we get out of here? I'm ready to go home."

 

Olivia sighed. "Let's go."

 

* * * *

 

"What do you mean you can't find them?" Mackenzie said angrily.

 

"Freeman must have had someone come get him after he was shot. Either that or he finally died from his wounds. If that's the case, no one has reported finding the body," Harley, Mackenzie's enforcer, replied. "As for the guy the wallet belongs to? Michael Payne? So far, nothing. I've got men staking out the address listed on his state ID. He hasn't shown up there."

 

"You have to do better than that," Mackenzie barked out. "Before he finds the list of names Johnny admitted giving Freeman." He almost smiled, wondering how Johnny was enjoying his new "job" at a whore in a house in Bangkok—his "reward" for talking out of turn.

 

"Mac, even if he has found the list, he won't know what it means."

 

"Are you willing to bet on it? For all we know, he was working with Freeman. He could have taken the wallet, knowing what it contained."

 

"I…suppose," Harley said doubtfully. "But if he was, why didn't he show his face and return the favor, when Cal shot Freeman? No, my bet is he was just a casual pickup. He waited until Cal left, grabbed his clothes and ran. Cal said there were clothes on the floor and a chair. That's how he ended up with Payne's wallet instead of Freeman's. He had seconds to search their jeans. It was in one pair, nothing was in the other, so he grabbed it and split."

 

"Where do you dig up these idiots?" Mackenzie growled. "Never mind. Rhetorical question. Get out of here and find Michael Payne. Now! Get the list then kill him."