Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
And her damn mouth.
36
Maxine
By the time we left the honeymoon suite, Blowback had compiled two lists of names. One was of licensed physicians in the area. The other named doctors who’d had their licenses revoked or suspended by Nevada’s board of medical examiners, and it was as if a lightbulb went off in my brain. Because if Papa needed a doctor to treat his fighters, he wouldn’t go after someone who was secure in his position or financially sound, and who was respected in his community and could afford protection for his family. No, he’d go after the guy who was barely holding on. So I told Stone that was the list we needed to look at first.
Some of the names we could look up online to find pictures. None of those were the doc. For the others, the plan was simple: drive to the addresses listed, wait until the person who lived there comes out. If it wasn’t the doc, Stone would go talk to him to make sure it actually was the person named on the list.
Claiming a motorcycle was too noticeable and no good for stakeouts, Stone bought a silver Honda Accord off a used lot—and used a fake identification to do it, so apparently he was more concerned about not leaving a paper trail than the possibility that the FBI was watching our every step.
Each day, we checked a few names off the list. Then we returned to the motel room that he paid for in cash—using a fake ID again—and it didn’t matter that we weren’t in a nice hotel, because it was like the honeymoon suite all over again. As if there wasn’t anything in the world except Stone and me, and our bed.
On the fourth day of tracking down the names on the list, we found him.
Gerald Johnson, who’d had his license suspended for administering a controlled substance to himself. With my heart thundering, I watched him leave his big house and get behind the wheel of a Maserati. My reaction probably told Stone all that he needed to know, because even before I said a word, he muttered something about pervert hair and followed the doc’s car. Then he got on the phone with Blowback and told him to look deeper into Gerald Johnson.
So even before we arrived at his clinic, we knew where he was headed. He wasn’t currently licensed to practice medicine. Instead his clinic was a weight loss and lifestyle spa, a facility which could never have been capable of treating Matt’s broken arm. Not that he’d ever intended to. Yet still, I’d believed that order to kill Matt had really come down from Papa and the doc had just been too afraid to do anything except obey. Because he’d always been kind to me, helped me. And all this time, I assumed that the doc was just like the rest of us—forced to do what Papa said, or his family would suffer for it.
But according to Blowback’s info, the doc doesn’t have a family. And I wouldn’t have blamed him for saving his own skin. But after comparing the relative shabbiness of his clinic to the grandeur of his house and the gleam of his car…obviously the incentive to help Papa had more to do with money.
“You’re looking real angry, girl,” Stone tells me softly, parking the Honda in an adjacent lot. “You need me to take you into the backseat again?”
A laugh huffs through the rage. Stakeouts have never been boring with him. And that backseat has gotten quite a bit of use the past couple of days.
But I shake my head, angry tears blurring my vision. “I just want to go in there and scream at him. Just to ask why. Why why why was that fancy car worth more than Matt’s life? Or more than Crash’s and Lissa’s? Because do you see any sign that he’s being watched? Any of Papa’s security?”
“No tails that I can see,” he says softly.
And Stone would see them. Just like he spotted Victor and Hotel in the tavern that first night.
“So at any time, he could have gone to the police. He could have asked for protection, and told them who Papa was, and freed all of us…but he never did. And I just don’t understand it.”
“Because you’re a decent person, angel.” Stone turns in his seat, cupping my face, thumbs gently wiping away the tears. “And he’s a garbage person. It’s that simple. But here’s the good thing about that—we’ve got some options here. One is contacting Creek and letting him know we’ve identified this fucker. They’ll make a deal with him in trade for Papa, most likely, but it’ll take the rest of this out of your hands, except for when you’re in court. Second option is the original plan—sit tight, watch him, see if he leads us to Papa. Or maybe after watching him, if he doesn’t lead us anywhere, then I go and ask him a few questions. Which one you want to do?”