She set herself up at a table twenty feet away from Daron and Nicco.
From Daron’s camera, they had a view of the bar, and Nicco’s recorder covered another angle that included the front entrance.
“Nicco if you move your seat a little, we can get a better look at the tables with the single ladies,” Dro said.
“No problem.” Nicco’s voice came through crisp and clear via the mic while he adjusted his chair.
Angela rose from her seat and made a beeline for the bar. She placed her glass on the counter and signaled to Jahani. His gaze settled on her cleavage, where the mini camera was disguised as a rhinestone. Looking into his eyes startled Ryan, who felt helpless because they were sitting around waiting for information to drop.
If he had his way, they’d drag that slimy bartender over the counter and beat the crap out of him until he spilled what they wanted to know. But like his mother told him through the years, ‘patient man ride donkey.’ The phrase almost made him chuckle, being one of his grandmother’s favorites, too. She’d moved to Evanston from Jamaica many years ago, but you couldn’t tell because she never lost her accent from home or her patience with the youngest member of the Bostwick family. He had learned a lot from her including when to call on The Man Upstairs.
Ryan shut off his memories and leaned in when Angela slid the glass across the counter and motioned for the bartender to come nearer. The man’s close-set eyes seemed to bore into Ryan’s. Then his gaze shifted upward when Angela edged toward him.
“I’d like a top-up,” she said.
“That will not be a problem.” He smiled, then winked. “Give me a minute.”
He dealt with another customer while the other bar staff hustled back and forth behind the counter, serving drinks. Jahani returned with her order and set it on the counter.
Angela slid the cherry into her mouth while Jahani watched, then handed him the toothpick. She beckoned to him again, and when he leaned forward, she laid a hand on his chest and whispered, “Thanks for taking care of me.”
The bartender’s skin flushed darker and with desire evident in his eyes, he said, “You are welcome. Maybe we can have a drink together later this evening.”
“Yes, Jahani.” She tapped his nametag and continued in a throaty voice. “We should.”
Ryan had to admit she was smooth. As closely as he was watching, he barely caught the moment when she attached the mic to Jahani.
“How small is that bug?” Ryan squinted at the screen as if it would give up its secrets.
Dro chuckled. “So small that if he picks up on it, the chip will resemble a clump of dust particles, clinging to a sliver of plastic.”
“Sounds slick.”
“State-of-the-art and all that.”
Angela sauntered back to her seat, then sipped from her glass as she glanced around the room, which pulsated with the sounds of Koffee’s Rapture.
Ryan wanted to see some action now, but knew instinctively that any underhanded business would happen later in the evening. Eyes closed, he let out his breath on a long exhale.
“It’s a little early for you to be exhausted,” Dro teased, looking sideways at him.
“Nah, nothing like that. I was just thinking.”
Dro nodded, his attention focused on the screen. “I know how it is when your other half is in danger and you don’t have a clue how or why things happen the way they do.”
“You hit the nail on the head.”
“It happened to me with Lola. I nearly went mad when some criminal kidnapped her. Couldn’t eat, sleep, or think about anything other than getting her back, so I understand. Khalil had my brother Kings knock me out so they would handle the business. They didn’t want me to increase Chicago’s body count.” His lips quirked, then he added. “I won’t tell you not to worry, but—”
“Trust me,” Ryan said, shaking his head, “I’m not about that life. Worry solves nothing, but I feel you on putting some heat on somebody’s ass.”
“Good.” Dro cracked a smile. “I want to reassure you, we’ll be about this business as if she was one of our own—and she is. We’ll get her back, alive and in one piece.”
Despite the reassurance, Ryan sighed again. His energy was off and as long as he didn’t fix that, he’d be no use to Dro. “D’you mind if I stretch my legs for a minute?”
Eyes fixed on the laptop, Dro waved him away. “Do what you have to do.”
Ryan pushed the door open and walked to the railing a few feet away, to stare at the river. The city lights glinting on the surface distracted him from what he came to do. The wash of the water against the rocks below was hypnotic and as the wind ruffled his black shirt, he pulled in his breath and let it out. After listening to his breathing for a minute, Ryan poured his heart into a prayer, which included a healing request for Drake and comfort for the rest of the family. He shouldn’t have left his room without praying, but as Mama would say, better to do it later than not at all.
Then he made declarations, claiming Aziza’s safety and her quick return to him, which cleared his head and lightened his spirit.
“Thank you, Father,” he whispered. “I believe and I will receive.”
With renewed energy, he crossed the outdoor tiles between him and the Limo.
Bashir gave him a cursory glance as he approached the car with a purposeful stride.
He slid into the seat next to Dro and shut the door. “Anything yet?”
“You see that guy, there?” He pointed to someone sitting at a table across from the bar. “He and Jahani are exchanging signals. I think they’re after that woman there.”
The bi-racial East Indian female, who wore a red dress with a matching scarf, sat by herself sipping
