Page 73 of Velvet and Valor
“Um…yeah, okay, pretty much spot on,” I say. “Including the potential for death part. I hate to ask but I’m out of options, Ezra.”
He groans. “I knew you were going to say that. I can barely hear you. Are you on an airplane or something?”
“I might be suffering from a case of dropped eaves.”
“I get it. Where are you at?”
“Texting you the address. This is the tricky part. You’re going to have to pretend to be here to give me a ride. So, hang an Uber or Lyft sign in your windshield or something.”
He snorts. “I got you, man. Just hang tight.”
“Remember, I’m being watched.”
“So you said,” he replies.
“I’m just saying. Be subtle.”
“Subtle is my middle name.”
“I thought your middle name was Reinhold.”
“And I thought I told you that if you repeated that again, I would kill you,” he growls.
“All right. All right. I’ll see you soon.” I wait until my finger is just about over the end call icon and then speak again. “Reinhold.”
That takes care of my ride, not to mention backup. But I still don’t know where I’m going. I have to wait for Moorcrock to tell me.
My stomach twists with hunger pangs, but I don't feel like eating. It would not be right, with June in danger. Instead, I pace the floor for a while, waiting on the arrival of Ezra and Moorcrock’s impending call.
At last, the phone dings with an incoming message.
Send a photo
I resist the urge to be a smartass. I don’t want to piss him off and send a selfie with June’s life on the line. Obviously, he means he wants to see proof that I have the goods. I take a photo of the uncut gems, alongside my driver’s license. That should shut him up.
A moment later, an address comes through. I check it out and grimace. I have no idea where it is, which probably means it’s some desolate area where there could be an army waiting for us.
Ezra sends me a smiley face text. His way of telling me he’s waiting outside. I gather up the gems and stuff my gun in the waistband of my pants. I stick a second pistol in my hiking boot, and a folding knife on the other side. Hopefully, they’ll find the first gun and stop looking. I know I’m going to be searched.
When I get outside, I don't have to ask which car on the street belongs to Ezra. The bright yellow taxicab gives it away. As well as the fact it’s clearly a Hollywood prop taxi for a period movie. The thing looks ancient.
“Oh yeah, asshole,” I say, getting inside. “Real subtle.”
Ezra glances over at me, his eyes hidden behind mirrored shades. Rough stubble covers his face. Looks like he was recovering from a bender when I called him. I probably did Ezra a favor by recruiting him for a death defying mission.
“You said make it look like you’re getting a ride,” he replies with a shrug of his huge shoulders. His long sleeves cover up tattoos that are almost as cool and just as numerous as my own. “So, what says that more than a taxi?”
I start to get in the front seat, and he snarls.
“The fuck are you doing, idiot? Get in the back.”
“You should be calling me sir to stay in character.”
“You son of a bitch,” he replies. “I get off my ass to come up and save yours, no questions asked, and I even get the stupid taxi to help, and all you do is complain.”
“You know what, Ezra?” I sigh. “You’re right. You’re doing me one Hell of a solid and I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“Now that’s more like it.” He puts the car in drive, and the engine rumbles like thunder. I give him a look.”
