Trusting Danger (Danger, #2)(12)

Using the description Darryl had provided—a heavyset white guy with a shaved head and a diamond earring—Grayson spotted Rex Gibson and headed toward the corner booth he was seated in alone, having dinner and a beer.

The man looked up at Grayson and frowned. “You Greg?”

“Yeah.”

Gesturing with a nacho chip in his hand, Gibson said, “Have a seat.”

Grayson gingerly lowered himself onto the bench seat opposite the drug dealer. Although strips of silver duct tape were crisscrossed across the vinyl, the bench still had holes where stained foam was sticking out.

A half-eaten plate of nachos sat in front of Gibson. He crunched into a chip and studied Grayson while he chewed, then swallowed and took a swig of his beer. “Darryl says you’re new to town. Where you from?”

“California.”

“You’re far from home.”

“My kid lives here now with his mother. I moved to be near him.”

Gibson pulled a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wiped his hands. “So you served time?”

Grayson nodded. “Spent a year courtesy of the state of California. Possession with intent.”

“Not too long a sentence.”

Grayson tilted his head at the subtext. “Quantity was on the low end. I didn’t give anyone up, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Gibson’s gaze narrowed. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“There was a raid on my place. Someone gave me up. I’d never do that.”

Gibson sat back in his seat and studied Grayson.

What was it going to take to convince the man? It was time to push past Gibson’s reluctance and sell himself.

“Darryl told me you don’t have anyone to handle the upscale club scene. I can cater to the spoiled rich kids, help them spend their money,” Grayson added with a smirk.

“Can’t let you have the clubs.”

“What can you let me have?”

Gibson took another sip of his beer and plunked the bottle down. “I got a job you can handle, but it ain’t drug-related.”

“What is it?”

“Got a customer who needs someone kidnapped. Ever done anything like that?”

Surprised, Grayson tried to ignore the spike in his pulse rate and schooled his features. “No.”

“Interested?”

“I don’t get it. Did someone cross you?”

“It’s a separate operation I got.”

“Kidnapping people?”

Gibson scowled at him. “If it ain’t your thing, just say so.”

When the man moved to slide out of the booth, Grayson held up a hand. “Wait a second. I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.”

Gibson sank back onto the bench and raised an eyebrow.

“Who is it that you want kidnapped?”

“Someone’s daughter.”

“How old is she?”

“Don’t know exactly. Not a kid, though.”

“Is there a place to hold her?”

“Yeah, that’s all set up.”

“Where is it?”

“Not important.”

Grayson’s mind raced with questions. How many could he ask without looking suspicious? “When do you need this done?”

“The next few days.”

“Ransom?”

Gibson nodded. “But someone else is taking care of that part. You’ll just hold her for a couple days.”

“Then what? We kill her?”

That comment earned him a frown. “Not part of the plan. You want the job or not?”

“I need more information. Need to know who it is.”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Is it someone high profile?”

Gibson’s mouth twisted, his patience clearly coming to an end.

“I need to know how much I’m risking by getting involved.”

“It’s some senator’s daughter. That’s all I know.”

Oh hell. Grayson sat back against the booth, willing himself to stay calm. The impending kidnapping of a politician’s daughter clearly trumped tracking down a drug dealer for the moment.

“They’ll pay well,” Gibson said.

“How much?”

“Ten thousand. I get half.”

Grayson snorted. “I do all the dirty work, but you get half?”

“You want the job or not?”

“Yeah, I want it.” I need her identity. He tamped down his frustration. “You got a picture?”

“Not yet but soon, maybe tomorrow. They want this done quick. I’ll be in touch once I do. Darryl gave me your number.”

Grayson pulled his phone from his pocket. “But I don’t have yours. I need to make arrangements for my kid, and if I have a problem, I’ll need to call you.”

Gibson snatched Grayson’s phone and added his number, then tossed it back across the table. “Be ready. I’ll be calling.” Then he stood and left the bar.

Grayson waited several minutes before doing the same. On his way home, he called Eli and explained what had just happened.

“Jesus,” Eli said. “When’s the next meeting?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Gibson said they want it done fast.”