Page 29 of The Bait

“I know. But we need the merchandise.”

Harry sighed. “It doesn’t feel like it used to. My nerves and patience for this are gone.”

“Because we got complacent,” Asher replied. “We got used to being civilians.”

Harry’s eyes cut to Asher’s, fierce and laser focused. “We’ll have it again. I promise. Quiet, in the wilderness somewhere. Just you and me.”

“And Mala.”

Harry’s eyes softened. “Of course.” Then his gaze cut over Asher’s shoulder, to the end of the bar. “Company.”

Asher turned and the security guard was approaching with another man, dressed the same, same stupid shaved head, same stupid ego. They walked with their chests out, trying to appear bigger than they were, which was funny, all things considered. They were basically children andHarry could kill them both with his bare hands—at the same time.

Infants.

Asher wanted to roll his eyes but instead he smiled.

“This way,” idiot number one said, implying they should follow.

Asher went first, then Harry, then idiot number two followed behind.

They went through a series of doors, then up some narrow stairs to a hall. Three doors, one window, and an exit sign that Asher assumed led to a fire escape. At the end of the hall was an idiot number three by an open door, and he stepped aside so they could enter.

A guy sat behind a desk, and for the most part it looked like an office to a nightclub and nothing more. But if Daris said this guy was the one who could get them weapons, Asher believed it.

Ivan Cosic was mid-thirties, maybe. He looked a lot like the guy from thatTrainspottingmovie—Asher couldn’t remember his name—but the shaved heads seemed to be a popular style.

He never stood up from his desk, though idiots one and two never moved, framing them like idiot bookends.

Oh, how Asher wished for a gun.

Then Ivan nodded to the idiot bookends who then proceeded to give Asher and Harry another pat down.So ridiculous.Harry extended his arms, growling again, but Asher found this supposed weapon supplier’s amateurish display of security funny.

Once they’d found nothing, Cosic seemed mollified. “You said you had a business proposition,” he said in Bosnian.

Asher considered speaking in English for Harry’s benefit but decided against it.

“Yes. I need merchandise and I was told you were the man to get it for me.”

He stared at them. “What kind of merchandise?”

“I need three SIG Scorpions, suppressors, thirty extended mags. Two HK G36s with Steiner T332 optics, and all the ammunition you can get, some hunting knives,” Asher said simply. “Oh,” he added with a slight chuckle. “And a McMillan TAC 50.”

Cosic stared at him, then he glanced at idiots one and two before his gaze went back to Asher. He was clearly sizing them up, trying to determine if they were undercover cops or something.

God, people like him were so tiring.

“I don’t give a fuck about the hookers or drugs you’re running downstairs,” Asher said flatly. “I need guns, and I need them ASAP.”

Cosic shook his head again. “I’m not sure where you heard that I can get that kind of merchandise—” he began.

“I don’t play these games, Mr Cosic,” Asher said, his voice cold. “And who I heard it from is irrelevant. If you don’t want the money, I’ll find someone who does and tell my informant you’re not reliable. They won’t like that.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Asher wasn’t done. “I also want information and will pay very handsomely.”

“Information on what?”

Asher took out his phone and opened his photos to the pics he took of the three very dead Croatian men. He put the phone on the desk so the two idiots could see it too. “These three individuals. I want to know who they are, who they worked for. Do you recognise them?”

---