Capitol Threat

16

Loving’s first instinct was to run, but he managed to suppress it. Surely Leon wouldn’t try to plug him here, on “E” Street, in front of dozens of witnesses—would he?

What was he thinking? This was the man who had tried to kill him in the middle of a shopping mall. He turned to run—

Leon laid a hand on Loving’s shoulder. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Somehow, the reassurances of a trained killer did nothing to stop his stomach from churning. He tried again to turn. Leon held him in place. Even though Loving outweighed the man by at least fifty pounds, he couldn’t break his grip.

“I just want to talk. Please. It would be in your best interest.”

He had a thick accent. Loving thought it sounded Germanic, but he wasn’t exactly Henry Higgins when it came to dialect. “ ’Cause you plan to get it over with quick and easy?” he jeered, feigning a confidence he did not feel.

Leon smiled. He had a gold replacement tooth on the top right row. “Because I’m off-duty.”

“Hit men get coffee breaks?”

“I was retained to accomplish a single task. Regrettably, I failed, so I forfeited my payment. My employer informed me that my services were no longer needed.”

“Sorry to put a black mark on your résumé, Paladin.”

“It’s not your fault. My…associate did not care for the experience of working with me. He gave a rather negative report to our employer.”

For some reason, Loving believed the man did not intend to harm him. At least not at the moment. “Gosh, that’s a tough shake. So who is this employer?”

Leon released Loving’s shoulder and held up a finger. “That would be telling.”

“Uh-huh. And what exactly was your job?”

“To prevent the young lady of the evening from conveying her information to you. Regrettably, we arrived late. When I saw that you had already spoken to her, it became necessary to eliminate you as well.”

“You’re wrong. We barely said hello. She told me nothin’.”

“I hope for your sake that is true.” Loving noticed that his right hand remained firmly clasped on whatever was in his pocket. This man could kill him in less than a second if he wished. “But I fear it will make little difference. You will have a hard time convincing my former employer.”

“So the hit is still on?”

Leon shrugged slightly. “As I said, I have been told that my services are no longer required.”

“So you really didn’t come here to kill me?”

“My dear fellow, why should I? I hardly know you. My contract has been terminated.”

“I guess I should feel proud,” Loving replied. “I’m thinkin’ you don’t have too many blots on your record.”

“You would be correct. Unfortunately, I was hampered by my…associate. My employer’s son. A difficult partner, at best.”

“Because he’s trigger-happy and stupid?”

“I tried to tell my employer that his…assistance was not needed. But he insisted.”

“He sent the idiot offspring to keep an eye on you.”

“They sent him to observe, to perhaps learn skills that would enable him to be of use at some time in the future. Unfortunately, I fear that is impossible. Many things can be cured with experience and training. Stupidity is not one of them.”

Loving’s gut instinct told him it would still be smartest to turn tail and run from this man who was, after all, a killer. But his curiosity got the better of him. “Why are you here?”

“I thought…I thought I might be of some assistance to you.”

“You want to help me?”

“You find that so difficult to believe?”

“Usually I don’t get to be best buddies with guys I run over with a car.”

“I’m not one to hold grudges. Would you care for a latte?”

Loving raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”

“Well, we are standing directly in front of police headquarters. And as dim-witted as they are, it is probably not prudent for me to remain here forever.”

Leon gestured toward a coffee bar across the street. Oookay, Loving thought. In for a penny.

Inside, they found a booth in the rear, away from the windows, and sat on opposite sides. Loving ordered black coffee and told the waitress he didn’t give a damn what blend it was. Leon ordered a white chocolate mocha, Genvalia ground, with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.

“You seem surprised.”

“Well…” Loving searched for words. “I guessed I had you pegged as more the bourbon-straight kind of guy.”

Leon gave a little shudder. “Stereotypes are so banal.” He took a sip of his gourmet coffee, which left a white foamy cream mustache on his upper lip. “As I was saying, I did admire the way you handled yourself last night.”

“Even the part where I stabbed you in the gut?”

“In fact, I was wearing Kevlar. The wound was not nearly so serious as you probably imagined.”

“And when I hit you with the car?”

“That stung a bit. It would never have happened if I hadn’t already been off my game. Decentered, if you will, by the handicap of an accomplice. But I must admit it’s not my first time rolling over a speeding car. One learns to deal.”

Loving rubbed the side of his face. Last night the man had tried to kill him; today they were sitting in a booth sipping overpriced yuppie coffee. It was surreal.

“So I guess as a reward for my fabulous performance, you’re plannin’ to give me the name of the woman who was killed at the press conference?”

“Would that I could. I don’t know that poor unfortunate’s name. But I do know someone who might be able to give it to you.”

“And you’re gonna tell me?” Loving asked incredulously. A moment later, he snapped his fingers. “You’re pissed.”

“I’ve had nothing to drink.”

“I mean you’re angry. Because they fired you. You’re tryin’ to screw the pooch.”

“I assure you that never in my life—”

“You’re ticked off ’cause you got canned.”

“It was…unjust. The fault was all with my partner. And at least at some level, deep down, I believe my employer realizes that. But what can he do? The man is his son.” He paused. “That said, I assure you my motives are not entirely petty.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Loving said, sipping his cup of coffee. “I don’t care what your motives are. Who is this person? Give me a name.”

“Trudy.”

“And she can give me an ID on the murder victim?”

“Yes, I believe that Trudy—” He coughed into his hand. “—uh, might be able to help you along.”

“Got an address?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He passed Loving a folded sheet of paper. “Don’t be fooled by the office space at the front of the building. The den of iniquity you seek is in the basement.”

“Aren’t they always.” Loving shoved the paper into his pocket. “Got any other leads?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well then, I should probably push off. It’s been…um…interestin’.”

“Indeed it has.”

Loving hesitated. “So…I don’t need to worry about you sneakin’ up behind me and tryin’ to kill me? ’Cause we’re friends now.”

Leon tilted his head to one side. “Mmm…”

“I see. You’re still hopin’ they’ll hire you back.”

“A man’s got to eat.”

“And if they do, you’ll be back on my ass.”

“I think that very unlikely.” He smiled. “But if it does occur—I won’t enjoy it.”

Loving knew he shouldn’t be smiling, but he was.

“Let me warn you, Mr. Loving—even if it isn’t me who comes for you next, if you do not discontinue your investigation, there will be someone.”

“Why?”

“Because there are people who do not want the identity of the lady in question to be revealed. They will stop at nothing to prevent it. And they are swimming in resources. Money. Power. Armies to command.” He paused. “I can’t assure you that all of these minions will adhere to the same code of conduct that I do. Be very careful—danger may lurk in the most unexpected places.”

That sent a shiver down Loving’s spine. “Gotcha. Thanks for the tip.”

“It was my pleasure.” He extended a hand. “Best of luck to you.”

Loving couldn’t believe it, but he was actually shaking the hand of the man who had tried to kill him only hours before. “Very kind of you.”

“Not at all.” Leon looked up over the brim of his frothy mug. “You’re going to need it.”