Page 94 of Love on the Line

A minute later, John opened the passenger door and got in the car.

Wyatt glanced at him and did a double take. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the mustache was real.

John handed him a Raiders ball cap. “Wear this low to hide your face. I don’t want anyone to recognize you. Black and silver will blend in, and no one would expect a Ravens player to wear another team’s hat.”

A sliver of apprehension wound itself around Wyatt’s lungs. “Why the mustache?”

“I work undercover, so no one should make me as a detective, but I don’t take chances.” He met Wyatt’s eyes, the usual glint of humor absent. “I’ve been at this for a long time. I know how these scumbags think and work. Sometimes I make it up as I go, and I need you to trust me and follow my lead.”

Wyatt nodded. Shit was getting real. He’d never seen John in action.

“I think someone hired these creeps. If that’s the case, your problems aren’t over until we find out who.” John glanced at the bar front. “Depending on what happens in there, we might have to let the small fry go to catch the big fish. Are you all right with that? It’s a risk.”

If John’s theory held true, nothing would stop the person behind the attack from striking again. Much as Wyatt wanted all of them in jail, he needed to get to the bottom of things. “I trust whatever you think.”

“All right. If they show up, don’t talk unless I ask you a question, and keep your cool.”

“Got it.” Wyatt put on the cap.

John patted his coat. “I’m wired and have a camera. Don’t have the resources to keep agents staked out night after night when we have no idea if or when these dicks might show up. If those assholes are in there, I’ll call for backup, and we’ll make our move once we’re covered.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They entered the bar and found a table located behind the door. Perfect position for a stakeout. John told Wyatt to sit facing the wall so all people would see was his back. Heavy-metal music blared, and the rowdy crowd at the bar yelled over the noise.

John was right about the place. Full of bikers wearing black shirts, leather vests, wallet chains, and bandanas. He and John almost fit in with their black Tees, ripped jeans, denim jackets, and boots. Close enough.

A few of the bikers had glanced at John and Wyatt when they entered, but either lost interest when they took the small table away from the action, or were intimidated by their size. Hard to say. At least they were tucked back in a dark corner and far enough from the loud speakers to hold a conversation.

Trish approached with a big smile.

Wyatt did a double take. He hadn’t seen her working at the Corner Bar for a while. Now he knew why.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you two in here.” She flicked a finger at John’s mustache. “That’s new. I like it.”

John sat taller and smiled back. He’d always had a thing for her, but had never got around to asking her out, and then she’d disappeared. A petite brunette with big brown eyes, she was totally his type. Her gaze lingered on his chest, then snapped back to his face. Wyatt bit into a grin as his buddy postured.

“When did you start working here?” John asked.

“Couple of months ago. Right after some jerk got me fired.” Her mouth twisted. “He complained to my manager because I didn’t leap to his beck and call when he snapped his fingers. I had other tables, and he was a snobby asshole. Full of himself.”

“That sucks.” Wyatt said.

“Yup. Worked there for three years, busted my ass, and had a bunch of loyal regulars like you guys. Didn’t matter. Mr. Big Wig apparently threw his weight around, and next thing I knew, I was out the door.” She perched a hand on her hip. “The bastard actually went to the trouble of leaving me a one cent tip that night to make sure I knew he didn’t forget.”

John shook his head. “Unbelievable. For what it’s worth, we miss you there.”

“Aww, thanks. Whatcha drinking?”

They ordered a couple of Buds, and Trish went to the bar.

“I’m not going to drink, but I want the bottle in front of me so I don’t stand out,” John said.

Wyatt scanned the room. His hopes sank. “Don’t recognize anyone.”

“It’s still early.”

Trish returned with their beers. “Here ya go. Anything else?”

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