“Yes,” Quinn said.
“That’s great,” Nate said, a smile on his face. “Make sure she’s all right, tell her about Markoff, then you’re all done.”
“Do you really think she’s going to be all right?” Orlando asked. “Someone is obviously after her. Are you saying we should just let her hang out there on her own?”
The smile slipped from Nate’s face. “No,” he said. “Not really. I was just... just being a little hopeful.”
Quinn looked over at Orlando. “I want to record the call and see if we can trace it. You have what you need to do that?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have something that will work.”
“Then come over to the hotel around seven-thirty,” he said. “That should give you enough time to set up, right?”
As Orlando was about to answer, the front door to the restaurant opened again. Moving only his eyes, Quinn glanced at the new arrival. A man, six feet tall, in shape, no more than thirty-five years old, with hair trimmed short and neat. He wore a dark suit that looked just a little too nice for this part of town.
“Keep your eyes open. I’m going to check him out,” Quinn whispered. Maybe this guy was a customer, but there was no sense in taking a chance.
As he started to rise, Orlando put a hand on his thigh. “I’m the unknown,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
It was the right move. If the man was looking for anyone, it would be Quinn. He wouldn’t recognize Orlando. The solution didn’t make Quinn happy, but he nodded.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” Orlando said just loud enough to be heard across the room. “Any of you want to join me?”
Reluctantly Quinn slid out of the booth so she could get up.
“Careful,” he whispered to her as she passed him.
Her quick smile told him to shut up.
He gingerly slipped his gun out from inside his jacket and placed it on his lap. From the corner of his eye, he watched the new arrival take several steps into the restaurant. The man picked up a menu off the counter and opened it. Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to have any interest in what was written inside. Instead, he used the menu as a prop so that he could scan the room unobserved. At least, Quinn thought, that’s what the guy believed.
Orlando worked her way around the center aisle of the booths, then headed toward the front door. She was playing it cool, her focus on the exit, never on the man. The new arrival watched her for a moment, then moved his attention back to the restaurant, scanning the empty booths.
A slight alteration in Orlando’s path put the man between her and the door. Just before she reached him, his gaze fell on Quinn and Nate. His eyes started to narrow, and a hand moved up a few inches toward the opening in his coat.
“Excuse me,” Orlando said.
“Huh?” the man said, glancing down at her. “Oh. Sorry.”
He moved to the side.
“Thanks,” she said, then slammed the palm of her hand into the bottom of his chin.
CHAPTER
THE MAN WENT DOWN HARD.
Orlando drove a knee into his chest, then hit him again in his face. He twisted violently, throwing her onto the floor near the front door.
Quinn was already out of the booth, racing toward them, his gun ready. But he had no clear shot.
The man slipped his hand under his jacket and pulled out a pistol. As he brought it around to aim at Orlando, Quinn did the only thing he could do. He dove forward, pushing the man’s arm back against the floor. There was a loud bang as the gun discharged, the bullet flying harmlessly into the counter a few feet away.
Orlando tried to hold him down again, but the man twisted his body, throwing her off balance and into Quinn. The jolt sent Quinn’s SIG clattering to the floor, where it slid under a nearby table.
“What’s going on?” It was the waitress calling out from the back of the restaurant. “Stop it! Stop it! I’m calling the police!”
Quinn shot a glance back at Nate. His apprentice had climbed out of the booth and was holding his Glock, but he seemed torn between whether to help Quinn and Orlando or go after the waitress.
“Stop her!” Quinn yelled at him.
The words broke Nate’s indecision. He ran through the restaurant toward the kitchen.
The man tried to bring the barrel of his gun around to get a line on Quinn, but he’d only moved it a few inches when his body suddenly jerked. Orlando had pushed herself to her feet and was kicking him hard in the kidney.
Another kick. Another jerk. All Quinn could do was hold on so that their would-be attacker couldn’t put up any defense. The fourth time she brought her foot into the man’s back, it wasn’t just his torso that moved, his trigger finger also twitched. The gun went off with a deafening roar only inches from Quinn’s ear. He could feel the heat radiating off the barrel.
