“I was outside your place. Tiny hasn’t come out yet.”
“No, you have to stay with her.” I’m sharper with him than usual, but I need Tiny to be protected.
“Mate.” It’s only one word, but I’ve known Steve a long time and can read all that he’s trying to say. Which is essentially that I’m acting like a goddamn fool because I can’t just call anyone to come and help me clean up this mess.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I pace. “Call Jake and get him to send over a driver for Tiny. A female one,” I add.
“I’ll get the most female male he’s got on staff,” Steve says sarcastically and hangs up.
Walking back into the alley, Big Guy is starting to sit up. Small Guy is still out cold. I crouch down next to Big Guy. In the dusky light I catalog their clothes, appearance, and possible origin.
Both are wearing bad suits, which makes sense because the Financial District is thick with suits from those warehouse stores, but the average mugger doesn’t sport even the meanest suit. They are both white with sharp noses, heavy eyebrows, and shaggy hair. The light’s too low to see more; their skin could be anywhere from pasty white to deeply tanned.
Big Guy was big, broad-shouldered and slow. His friend was quicker but lacked power in his punch. Low rent thugs without real skill, although maybe against someone who had no fighting experience they’d be terrifying. I’m only irritated. Malcolm Hedder? Mitch Hedder? Richard Howe? One of them likely is behind this. “I’ve got dinner plans, so this needs to go quickly. How much money do you need to sell out the guy who hired you?”
Big Guy looks away, the blood flowing from his broken nose mingling with the blood leaking out the side of his mouth. “I’ll give you all the cash in my pocket for a name.” I wave the thick wad of cash toward him. “There’s fifteen hundred right here.”
Hesitantly he reaches toward it, but Small Guy has roused and raises himself on his elbows. “Don’t do it. You know what they said.” He turns and spits out a mouthful of blood and maybe a tooth or two. The words are tinged with a slight accent. Bosnian is my guess.
“I don’t have time for this. It’s either money now or one of you goes with me and my friends to get questioned for free.”
Big Guy looks back at the downed guy who shakes his head, the brows on his face beetling together to emphasize that he is adamant about being quiet. Big Guy gives my money a regretful look and then tries to punch me again. This time I’m waiting for it, and I lift up my arm to block him. Falling backward intentionally, I shove both legs into Big Guy’s chest so he is sent careening backward onto his friend. I’m up on the balls of my feet, ready for them, when Big Guy lumbers to a standing position and slowly pulls out a knife.
“You should’ve taken the money,” I say and then gesture for him to come forward.
“You started the party without me,” I hear behind me.
“Just trying to make my dinner date,” I quip.
Steve hands me a gun with a suppressor, and at the sight of the two of us with guns, Big Guy stands down. “Throw the knife to me,” I order. Big Guy tosses the knife and it lands about five feet away. To Steve I say, “Take the guy on the ground. He’s the one giving orders.”
Steve brushes by me and toward the assailants. Big Guy doesn’t even try to defend himself when Steve clocks him with the handgun. As the larger assailant crumples to the ground, his friend powers to his feet and runs toward the end of the alley, jumps on a dumpster conveniently located under a fire escape stairs, and runs off. Steve and I watch him go.
“I guess we’re bringing this guy home. Think Tiny will like the present?” Steve asks.
“He’s going to Kaga’s,” I order. “Drive me to the Plaza and then take him. I’ll deal with him later.”
“You need a little cleaning up,” Steve remarks, giving me a once over. He’s dragging Big Guy behind him, so I go over and pick up the dead weight’s other arm. We haul him out of the alley to the waiting Bentley.
“Shit, I’m going to need a new car after this,” I say.
“Pretty much.”
I get into the front with Steve and flip down the visor. I’ve got a cut over my eye and a faint bruise on my cheek. In the tiny mirror, I can see that my collar is speckled with blood and spit. “And I’m going to need a shower.”
The car’s clock says its 7:00. “How late will Tiny be?” I ask.
“Car’s picking her up now, so maybe a half-hour?”
“Call the driver and tell her to delay as much as possible and take me to Kaga’s. We’ll dump this guy in the basement. Kaga should have something for me to wear.”
Kaga isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Aquarium would be the perfect place to lock up a criminal.
“Aye,” Steve answered.
“Tiny’s driver is a woman, right?”
“It’s a guy, but I told him to pretend like he didn’t have a dick because if he touched Tiny or looked at her wrong, you would cut it off.”
“You’re a good man, Steve.”
“Just watching your back.”
KAGA MEETS US IN THE alley behind the bar. “I’ve got a better place than the bar for this type of delivery,” Kaga observes, peering into the backseat.
“I don’t have time to go over to the docks. I’m supposed to meet Tiny at the Plaza at 7:00.”
“You need a new watch then, because it’s 7:20 right now.”
“Are you done busting my chops?”
He looks at me. “Looks like someone already did that for me.”
“Is it that bad?”
“In the light of the Plaza dining room, you’ll still look like you took a header to the face, but come in. I’ll have Priya apply some makeup to you. At least you can get through dinner without too many questions. What you tell Tiny after is something you can work on during dinner.”
“Thanks,” I grouse. Big Guy is conscious but steps out of the car meekly. I guess the three of us have subdued him. Plus Kaga’s Japanese, and for some reason, every non-Asian still thinks Japanese guys excel at martial arts. Kaga does and can kick your ass in under five seconds, but it’s still a stereotype that pisses him off.
“Did you have other babysitting duties tonight?” Kaga asks Steve as we escort the assailant down into the basement of Kaga’s nightclub.
“Yeah, told him he needed another bodyguard, but he didn’t listen.”