Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Ian gave a little nod, his eyes skimming down the list. “I understand.”
He was taking it far better than Hollis had expected. Hell, he was taking that news better than Hollis had. The former cop had been ready to march down to the DA’s office and knock them around for what they missed.
“I thought you could look over the names. See if there’s anyone on there who might be angry with you. Anyone you might have had some contact with in the past.”
“Well, I guess the good news is that I don’t recognize at least half of these,” Ian murmured. “I’m guessing they joined Jagger after I left. Do you have a pen?”
Hollis jumped up and quickly searched out a pen. He dropped back into his seat and handed it over, watching closely as Ian placed little stars next to three names—all of the former enforcers for Jagger. He drew a big circle around one name that made Hollis’s stomach drop.
“The ones with the stars are the ones that I had the most contact with. They’d at least know me, but I don’t know that they’d necessarily be angry with me. Ernie Bowling…he was close with Jagger. Ran a lot of jobs personally for Jagger. If he’s upset about Jagger’s death, then yeah, he’d be pissed at me.”
Hollis sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ernie Bowling is a monster, Ian. We couldn’t get any dirt on him that would tie him to specific deaths, but we were pretty damn sure he whacked several people for Jagger.”
Ian looked up at Hollis and smiled. “I think we should talk to him.”
Hollis didn’t even try to hide his skepticism. “Ernie is taller than me. There’s no way he was the attacker tonight.”
“I know, but I have a feeling Ernie still has a lot of contacts. He could have heard something. I think he’s the best starting place.”
Hollis had to agree, but they weren’t doing it without a hell of a lot of backup.
Chapter Fourteen
Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket and tried like hell not to look as out of place as he felt. He’d been to dive bars with Rowe on more than one occasion over the years, but Goodtimers was even more dive-y than Rowe would have liked.
The smell of old, stale beer and cigarette smoke was thick in the air, and Ian was sure that it was already clinging to his skin. Thick darkness blanketed the interior so that it was nearly impossible to make out the faces of patrons. Not that anyone probably wanted to be recognized.
Hollis walked just a step in front of him, looking far more at ease in the place. But then he’d admitted before they arrived that he’d been to the bar a few times when he’d worked undercover in Jagger’s organization. The place had been a favorite of some of Jagger’s lower-level goons.
Apparently it still was.
Ernie Bowling was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. It looked like he had one eye on the small TV mounted up in the corner, running the evening news. The man was massive. Even bigger than Ian remembered. Ian was sure he stood an easy six five, maybe even six seven, and was wider than a double-door refrigerator. He could palm Ian’s face with his monster hands.
“I think he got bigger,” Ian whispered.
“We’ve got your back,” Rowe replied calmly in his ear.
Hollis had been insistent that they not go in alone, and Ian was so damn glad he’d listened. There couldn’t have been more than half a dozen people in the place, including the bartender that stood behind the bar, looking half-asleep on his feet. No, all of Ian’s attention was on Ernie. Even if he wasn’t armed, the man could plow through Hollis and him like they were made of tissue paper.
Rowe and Noah were stationed out front, across the street. Sven was out back to cover the rear door, while Royce was hidden somewhere in the darkness of the interior of the bar. It had been decided that with his scruffy looks, he could pass for someone who could belong in such a place.
Unfortunately, Royce’s boyfriend, Marc Foster, had been visiting Ward Security when that comment was made, and he’d not been amused. He asserted that his adorable boyfriend did not look like a low-life thief or drug dealer, which led to them briefly disappearing off somewhere for a quiet moment.
Just the memory of the stiff and proper Marc defending his lover while the usually growly Royce melted as he watched nearly made Ian chuckle. He couldn’t think of two people who were bigger opposites, but they appeared to simply fit together. Of course, there were whispers that Marc’s past wasn’t entirely prim and proper. Something about an art heist and trolling sex clubs with Snow in the old days. Not that Ian wanted to know any of the details.