Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(77)

Stephen slid into his seat, and I grabbed my radio from the center console. I attached it to my waist and fed the wire up behind my blazer and put in the ear piece. I tuned it to station one. We pulled away from the curb and headed for Fountain Square.

“What are we doing? It’s still too early, right?” Stephen’s knee was bouncing.

Nerves. I used to get that way, but now I almost thrived on tense situations; they brought on an eerie calm.

“I’d like to circle the location a little before I park. And traffic can be a pain in the ass. It’s lunchtime. Try to relax, okay?”

“Right. Relax.” He nodded. “Okay.”

We drove the few blocks down, and I circled the city block a couple times. Cavanaugh and Vance stood in front of the fountain when I made my last lap. Vance saw me driving by and acknowledged me with a slight nod. His voice sounded in my ear.

“You signed on, Di,” Vance asked.

“All systems go.” I smiled. “How’s everything looking there?”

“Clear so far. Scoping out the eagle view. Stand by for the all clear in three.”

They were checking neighboring rooftops for anything suspicious.

I glanced over at Stephen. “How do you feel?”

“I think I’m good. I’m ready to get this over with.” He inhaled a deep breath and let it out.

“That makes two of us.” I smiled.

I drove down the block and as I rounded the corner facing the square, the clock read eleven fifty nine. I parked illegally at the curb and turned on the hazards. We were going to do this quickly. If a cop came upon the car, the worst thing they could do was write me a parking ticket; there wouldn’t be enough time to tow me. I needed the car close. I sat and waited for Vance.

“Get ready to get out. I’m waiting for the signal,” I said to Stephen. “Remember to do this as quickly as possible. Should anything go wrong—which I’m sure it won’t—listen and follow my lead. I’ll get you out. Understand?”

“I understand.” He nodded.

The clock read twelve. I put my hand up to my ear piece as Vance’s voice crackled over the air. “It’s go time.”





Twenty-five



I shut off the car and Stephen was already out, walking up the steps toward the fountain. I hustled to catch up but lagged behind thanks to his long, tall-person strides. I called for him to slow down, and he stopped and waited. Gripping the sides of my blazer, I took the shallow slate steps two at a time until I caught up to him. He walked toward Cavanaugh who stood next to the table where the men would meet to the side of the fountain. Avery was already being escorted by Andrews and Capinski.

Avery looked more rested than the last time I’d seen him—isolation agreed with him. He was dressed in pale slacks, a white oxford with the top two buttons undone and a leisure jacket probably made of a knitted silk based off its fluid movement as he walked. Even dressed casually, he still looked like a million bucks…well, aside from the same weathered shoes. I noticed them, as I always did, and I thought back to the story he’d told me eons ago. They were going to have a new story to tell when all of this was over.

Andrews and Capinski met up with Cavanaugh then Capinski broke off and walked to his position on the street. Andrews and Cavanaugh were on either side of the black wrought iron table waiting for Stephen to join Avery. From across the street at his location, Vance’s eyes caught mine for a second, and we exchanged nods. It comforted me to have him there, injured or not.

Avery met Stephen in front of the table, and the two men shook hands before Avery pulled Stephen into a hug. He gave Stephen a couple firm slaps to the back. Likely riddled with guilt, relief read on Avery’s face as he withdrew from the embrace.

I scanned the sea of people shuffling around us for anything suspicious. Lunch on The Square is a busy place. Business men and women and average Sallies and Joes sat around the edge of the fountain eating their lunches, getting teased by the mist of the water spraying from the towering bronze hands above.

A young woman, probably a college intern based off the baby fat and innocence still in her cheeks, sat by herself and sipped an overpriced coffee while staring into her phone. There were no threats. I began walking my course around the fountain.

Avery and Stephen began discussing their business. As I circled the fountain, I watched short scenes of their interaction. Avery’s hands moved as he spoke while Stephen listened. Stephen sat initially with his backpack on but he’d pulled it off at some point while I was walking, and on my next roundabout, it sat at his feet. He began unzipping it, but Avery stopped him by extending a hand to his shoulder. He wiped the sweat blanketing his brow then reached inside his jacket. He had to be melting underneath all his layers of material. Why a casual meeting between these two men needed the formality of expensive clothing was a mystery to me.

As I walked my slate path which radiated heat, a slow drip of sweat gathered at the base of my back and trickled down, absorbing into my waistband. I reached under my blazer and pinched my shirt, releasing it to give a quick burst of air. The first chance I got, I was ditching my outer layer. Professionalism be damned; I was hot.

The two men continued their conversation, although Avery did most of the talking. He leaned in with a stern expression, holding something small in his hands. The way he gripped it tightly in his palm, he seemed almost reluctant to hand it over.