wasn’t going to be that straightforward. As the two of them came around the side of a semitruck, Chase saw the blue Pontiac parked clumsily behind his stolen Chrysler 300 and the two men perched on the edges of the sedan’s silver hood.
Josh and Frank were still wearing their mechanic’s overalls underneath dark jackets, and as they approached, Josh peered out at them from under the bill of a grimy baseball cap. “Finally,” he muttered, slipping off the car.
Frank advanced, flexing his big hands. “Charlie,” he began, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have taken off like that. Mr. Roker, he’s real mad about it.”
Josh pointed at Jack. “Who’s this?” He sniffed the air like he smelled something bad. “He looks like a cop.”
Chase let out a sigh. “You followed me.”
“Yeah. Saw the car from the highway.” Frank shook his head. “Mr. Roker wants it back in one piece.”
Jack had become very still. Chase glanced at him and neither man said a word, but they knew each other well enough to read intent. There was a question in Jack’s look: Are you going to handle this? Chase nodded imperceptibly: I’ve got it.
“Keys! Hand ’em over!” demanded Josh, holding out his hand. To emphasize his point, he let the short crowbar he was hiding up his sleeve drop down into his grip.
Chase studied the two mechanics. “Let me guess,” he said. “Roker told you that whichever one of you kicks my ass gets my job, am I right?” That Frank and Josh didn’t immediately reply told him he was correct. He shook his head. “Look, guys. You need to find another place to work. Big Mike’s gonna get you killed one day. Sooner or later, the deSalvos are gonna run out of uses for him and they’ll put him down. You get caught in the cross fire, you really think he’ll look out for you?”
Frank hesitated, shifting his weight. “You shouldn’t talk about Mr. Roker like that. It’s disrespectful.”
Chase’s tolerance broke. “He’s an idiot. Tell him I said that, and that I’m keeping the wheels as my severance pay.”
“Wrong answer!” shouted Josh, and he rocked off his heels, bringing up the crowbar as he came in toward Chase. In the same moment, Frank took a clumsy swing at Jack that hit only air.
Chase slipped away from the attack and sent a short, sharp punch right into Josh’s face. The mechanic recoiled, but he seemed only slightly dazed. From the corner of his eye, Chase glimpsed Jack put a vicious chopping blow across Frank’s throat and follow it through with a left cross. Blood glittered darkly as Frank coughed out thick gobs of spittle.
Josh came at Chase again, this time swinging the crowbar like it was a sword, trying to catch him about the head and shoulders with the hooked end. “You’re such a tough guy!” spat the mechanic. “Come at me now, man! Come on!”
Reflexively, Chase tried to grab at the crowbar and force it away, but he used his bad hand without thinking. He couldn’t close the grip in time and the improvised weapon raked over his skin and drew blood. Josh lunged, now jabbing with the point as if he thought he could stab Chase with it. He backed off as Josh kept coming.
Nearby, Jack and Frank were trading blows as the bigger man tried to drag Bauer into a choke hold, failing to get a grip on the other man. Chase heard a sickening crack as Jack shot out a hard kick at Frank’s shin and broke bone there. The stocky mechanic gave a strangled moan and fell to one knee.
It was time to end this before someone inside the diner saw them and decided to call the police. Josh’s mistake was to overextend with one of his stabbing motions and Chase grabbed the crowbar, this time with his good hand. He yanked it toward him and Josh lost his balance, staggering forward. Chase led him into a head-butt that sent the mechanic down to the ground in a crumpled heap. Still gripping the crowbar, Chase came around in time to watch Jack use an elbow strike to crack Frank in the
Josh and Frank were still wearing their mechanic’s overalls underneath dark jackets, and as they approached, Josh peered out at them from under the bill of a grimy baseball cap. “Finally,” he muttered, slipping off the car.
Frank advanced, flexing his big hands. “Charlie,” he began, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have taken off like that. Mr. Roker, he’s real mad about it.”
Josh pointed at Jack. “Who’s this?” He sniffed the air like he smelled something bad. “He looks like a cop.”
Chase let out a sigh. “You followed me.”
“Yeah. Saw the car from the highway.” Frank shook his head. “Mr. Roker wants it back in one piece.”
Jack had become very still. Chase glanced at him and neither man said a word, but they knew each other well enough to read intent. There was a question in Jack’s look: Are you going to handle this? Chase nodded imperceptibly: I’ve got it.
“Keys! Hand ’em over!” demanded Josh, holding out his hand. To emphasize his point, he let the short crowbar he was hiding up his sleeve drop down into his grip.
Chase studied the two mechanics. “Let me guess,” he said. “Roker told you that whichever one of you kicks my ass gets my job, am I right?” That Frank and Josh didn’t immediately reply told him he was correct. He shook his head. “Look, guys. You need to find another place to work. Big Mike’s gonna get you killed one day. Sooner or later, the deSalvos are gonna run out of uses for him and they’ll put him down. You get caught in the cross fire, you really think he’ll look out for you?”
Frank hesitated, shifting his weight. “You shouldn’t talk about Mr. Roker like that. It’s disrespectful.”
Chase’s tolerance broke. “He’s an idiot. Tell him I said that, and that I’m keeping the wheels as my severance pay.”
“Wrong answer!” shouted Josh, and he rocked off his heels, bringing up the crowbar as he came in toward Chase. In the same moment, Frank took a clumsy swing at Jack that hit only air.
Chase slipped away from the attack and sent a short, sharp punch right into Josh’s face. The mechanic recoiled, but he seemed only slightly dazed. From the corner of his eye, Chase glimpsed Jack put a vicious chopping blow across Frank’s throat and follow it through with a left cross. Blood glittered darkly as Frank coughed out thick gobs of spittle.
Josh came at Chase again, this time swinging the crowbar like it was a sword, trying to catch him about the head and shoulders with the hooked end. “You’re such a tough guy!” spat the mechanic. “Come at me now, man! Come on!”
Reflexively, Chase tried to grab at the crowbar and force it away, but he used his bad hand without thinking. He couldn’t close the grip in time and the improvised weapon raked over his skin and drew blood. Josh lunged, now jabbing with the point as if he thought he could stab Chase with it. He backed off as Josh kept coming.
Nearby, Jack and Frank were trading blows as the bigger man tried to drag Bauer into a choke hold, failing to get a grip on the other man. Chase heard a sickening crack as Jack shot out a hard kick at Frank’s shin and broke bone there. The stocky mechanic gave a strangled moan and fell to one knee.
It was time to end this before someone inside the diner saw them and decided to call the police. Josh’s mistake was to overextend with one of his stabbing motions and Chase grabbed the crowbar, this time with his good hand. He yanked it toward him and Josh lost his balance, staggering forward. Chase led him into a head-butt that sent the mechanic down to the ground in a crumpled heap. Still gripping the crowbar, Chase came around in time to watch Jack use an elbow strike to crack Frank in the
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