Page 44 of A Friend in the Glass

“I’m good for it.” That sounded like Jarhead. “You know I am. Come on, quit dicking me around.”

“I can’t eat on IOUs,” Chad retorted.

Rufus rolled his eyes.Amateur.

“This is the last time, man. I’m sick of having to chase you down for payment.” And Chad tossed a small, palm-sized baggy of what was so obviously coke across the desktop where he sat.

“Excuse me?”

Rufus startled so badly at the unexpected voice that he fell backward into Sam’s legs before his ass hit the floor. He looked up to see Congresswoman Nasta, arms lightly crossed, painted fingernails tapping one bicep. Her presumed husband appeared beside her seconds later, looking far more irate than she did.

Ever the politician, she asked with polite severity, “Who’re you?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

When Rufus hit Sam’s legs, Sam was still in the process of turning toward the voice that had caught them by surprise. The result was that the impact, even though it was minor, put Sam off balance, and he stumbled.

At the same time, Kenneth Nasta shouted, “Security!”

Rufus scrambled clear of Sam’s legs, and Sam caught himself on the wall.

That was when the door to Chad’s office flew open. Jarhead moved faster than Sam expected—he already had a gun in his hand, and his quick glance seemed to take in the situation in a heartbeat. Then, while Sam was still steadying himself and Rufus was trying to get free, Jarhead bent, grabbed Rufus’s coat, and hauled the redhead toward him.

Sam took a step, hand dropping toward his own gun.

Rufus squirmed.

Jarhead brought the muzzle of the gun to Rufus’s temple.

Sam stopped.

Rufus stopped.

Chad appeared behind Jarhead a moment later. He looked like shit; even under the bandage, his broken nose looked so swollen that Sam doubted he could breathe through it, and he had two black eyes that were going to look twice as bad tomorrow. He had a gun in his hand too, but he looked like a kid brother, the way he peered over Jarhead’s shoulder.

“Ok,” Sam said. “Nobody needs to get hurt.”

“What the fuck?” Jarhead said gleefully.

“Mr. Nasta,” Chad said. “Mr. Nasta! We caught them!”

“You didn’t catch them, you idiot,” Mr. Nasta said. “We practically stepped on them. What the hell kind of security are you? Jesus, this is a cluster.”

Jen Nasta hadn’t said anything since her question, and she was still looking at them like she expected an answer.

“Tell him to point that gun somewhere else,” Sam said. “We can sit down and talk about this.”

“These are the ones?” Jen asked, but the question seemed to be for her husband.

He nodded.

“What in the hell are they doing here?”

Mr. Nasta shrugged. Sam didn’t peg him for the brains of the operation.

“Tell him to—” Sam began again.

“I heard you,” Jen said. “Who are you?”

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