Exit Fee by Brad Taylor

Author:Brad Taylor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-10-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

I let Amena scamper away, then glanced around the room, the music bouncing off the walls, the floor packed with drunk beach patrons. Nobody was paying any attention to our table. Luckily, the idiot I’d knocked out had demanded we be in the corner, which helped, but there was only so long I wanted to remain with two dead guys and an unconscious one. Sooner or later, a waitress would ask if we wanted anything, and I was pretty sure the folks at the table wouldn’t answer.

I searched the two men I’d killed, retrieving their wallets and cell phones and finding two handguns; one a CZ 75 and another a beat-up Browning Hi-Power. I shoved both into my waistband, then scrambled around for the pocket pistol Slaven had brandished.

I found it under the table, stood up, and saw a waitress making her way through the crowd. That would not work.

I shouldered my way past the cordon of people and touched her elbow, saying, “Hey, I’m going to cover that back table. We’re done with the drinks, but we’d like to stay a little bit longer.”

I gave her four twenties and said, “Keep the rest.”

She smiled and I walked back to the table, wondering how I was going to get the man known as Slaven to wake up. I decided on the expedient route, picking up my glass of water and dumping it on his face.

He spluttered, and I saw his eyes flutter open. I jammed the Browning Hi-Power into his ribs and said, “Stand up slowly and you might live. Unlike your friends.”

I saw his eyes focus on the two dead men across the table, and then he sluggishly rose. I said, “Keep your hands to the front. Lace them together.”

He did so, and I said, “We’re going out the back, right now. If you try anything, I’ll put a bullet in your heart and simply run away. Do not underestimate my desire to kill you.”

He nodded, and we pushed our way through the crowd, exiting onto the back patio. I prodded him to a six-foot wooden fence at the back of the patio, a single gate in the middle for trash removal. I said, “Open it.”

He did so, and we spilled out into a gravel parking lot jammed with vehicles, throngs of people coming and going. I called Jennifer and said, “We’re out. Where are you?”

“I see you. Back row. Keep coming.”

I did and found her with Amena and Beth, Amena bouncing up and down on her toes and Beth looking sick to her stomach.

Jennifer said, “What happened in there?”

“Nothing. Just solved a problem.”

She gave me her disapproving teacher glare and said, “Amena said you slaughtered two men.”

I pushed Slaven forward and said, “It could have been three. Ask Beth if they deserved it.”

Jennifer grinned and said, “Okay, okay, Amena told me that as well. What now?”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I had Amena back safe and sound, and could just dump Slaven at the nearest police station, implicating

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