Page 97 of Mensa's Match

Mensa smiled. “Says the pot to the kettle. Guess I’ll kiss you.”

Har, Gamble, Cynic, and Block were standing around the back door to Twisted Talons when Mensa arrived.

“This shit doesn’t make sense,” Gamble muttered.

Cynic shook his head. “No shit, Gamble. Not sure who I’m more pissed at, the assholes who sold us this building or the fuckin’ Corrupt Chrome.”

“Why would you pissed at the sellers?” Block asked.

“Those bastards should have had a ninety-minute fire door back here at a minimum. From what the fire department told me, it was a twenty-minute door tops. Otherwise, this damn thing wouldn’t be so warped and shit. Almost owe the Corrupt Chrome a thank-you because without this bullshit we’d have never known, and would’ve really been fucked in an emergency.”

Mensa slowly stalked around the group, looking at the dark soot outline against the brick wall. “Why would they half-ass this, though?”

Cynic glowered at him. “This isn’t half-assed. We got a smoke alarm right at the door and it kicked off a call to the security company.”

Mensa held his hands up for a second. “Chill, Cynic. They burned down Dontrell’s restaurant – I don’t care what the fire investigators say. They leveled that building, but didn’t bother to do the same thing here. Why?”

Block dragged his hand over his bald head. “Can see why you’d ask that, but Dontrell’s security set up is probably different. The building they burned down was definitely older—”

Mensa’s patience slipped. “Okay, but I’m not the only one questioning this, so what’s their goal?”

Cynic glared at Mensa. “I don’t fuckin’ know, but I know we’re shuttin’ their shit down.”

“We aren’t rollin’ out half-cocked, ‘Nic,” Har said.

Cynic turned his glare to Har. “We waited too long to fight back after the gunfire broke out here, Prez.”

“That was out of necessity.” Har glanced at Mensa and back to Cynic. “Corrupt Chrome has a narc –theydon’t know it, butwedo. We go after them, we’ll get taken down with them. Gamble’s gettin’ married soon. He isn’t doin’ that from prison.”

Cynic put his hands on his hips. “I want some fuckin’ revenge, Har.”

Har’s eyes glinted with anger. “So do I, and Corrupt Chrome will pay. You gotta be patient.”

“Shit,” Cynic hissed. “This is enough to start smoking again.”

“Don’t let Fiona hear that,” Gamble muttered.

Mensa tuned out the rest of the conversation because something told him this was a diversion. He wandered toward his bike and called the prospect assigned to Whitney. It rang fivetimes and rolled to voicemail. He willed himself not to worry about not getting an answer.

After a deep breath, he called Hard Pressed. Nadia answered almost immediately.

“It’s Mensa. Did Whitney leave for the UPS store?”

“She did , and she told me why you had to split like two aces at a blackjack table. Nobody got hurt, right?”

“Everyone’s fine, but I wanted to check on Whitney since the prospect isn’t answering my call. They must be driving.”

He could hear the smile in Nadia’s voice. “Yes, in fact, they just pulled up. You want me to put you on hold?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll call her cell.”

“You should have done that to start. She’s got that new fangled in-car—”

His lips tipped. “No, Nadia, she’s in your car today.”

“I stand corrected. I got a business to run, you have a good one, Mensa.”

Rather than call Whitney, he hit Hummer’s contact.

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