Dillon waited, watching Ghost tilt his head to the side and give another one of his incredibly creepy smiles.
“Would you believe me if I did? And put your hands down already. Even if you go for your piece, you won't get a shot off in time.”
Nasa dropped his hands and planted them on his hips. “Considering I've got evidence to back up what I'm asking, yeah. I'll believe you.”
Ghost blinked. Just one sharp snap of his eyelids, but the energy in the room changed. Intensified, practically crackling with static. “I gather you've shared all this evidence with the family?” She heard Nasa inhale to answer, but Ghost clicked his tongue and dismissively waved his gun at them. “Dumb question. Of course, you have.”
The monster who starred in so many of her nightmares heaved a frustrated sigh, never taking his eyes off them. She needed one opportunity, one split second to draw and fire under Nasa's arm.
“I see you back there scheming, Duchess. One wrong move from you, and I'll drop your dog and your boyfriend before you can finish making it.”
She wanted to kick herself, realizing that asshole could see all of her reflected in the bathroom mirrors.
“In fact, why don't you reach around my good buddy here and lace your fingers together over his belly, hmm?”
Grinding her teeth, Dillon obeyed, not realizing how shallow her breaths had been until she put her arms around Nasa's waist, and he reached down to cover her hands with one of his.
For a brief moment, she turned her face away from the mirrors so Ghost couldn't see, resting her cheek on Nasa's shoulder to focus on filling her lungs with enough air to keep her from passing out.
“Good. Now then, I've got a counteroffer for you. One of my girls is upstairs with the rest of the women, and she very convincingly blends in, thanks to the overzealousness of my men.
"She was instructed to find my thumb drive for me but assured me she'd looked everywhere she could possibly get to without getting kicked out.
“However, she did a thorough canvas and made me a detailed map of the building, and helpfully opened that window for me.
"In exchange, I gave her a backpack full of C-4 with a very simple push-button detonator because I like to be prepared.
“I really was shocked to hear your voice today, Nasa, but it makes me feel so much better to know all I have to do is send her a text, and the whole building will blow.”
“There's fuckin' kids in here, asshole!” Nasa half-shouted, reaching back to grab Dillon's elbows, like he knew her knees had just turned to Jell-o.
Imagining all the innocent people upstairs being blown to bits over a flash drive, it took her seconds to go from being terrified and struggling to not hyperventilate, to stone cold rage.
Ghost made a careless sound. “I am aware. So, here's the one and only deal: You asked me quite a few questions, Nasa, and I'm feeling generous. You're only going to get three truthful answers out of me. Pick wisely.
“When we're done with our Q & A, the Duchess will reach into whatever pocket you've got my thumb drive stashed in, toss it to me, and empty the rest of your pockets into one of the sinks along with whatever weapons you both have.
“Then, you're going to walk me to the door while Dillon stays up here with her dog. I'll leave and text my girl upstairs.
"She'll happily give you the backpack, and we'll all walk away and call it a day. None of the kids or their mommies ever need know this was all going down inside a place they're supposed to feel safe in.”
Nasa didn't immediately respond, but when he squeezed her elbows, Dillon nodded. If there was even a remote possibility Ghost was telling the truth, they didn't have a choice.
“Fine,” Nasa bit out coldly. “Where's Wren?”
“I knew you'd go for that one first.” Ghost chuckled, the sound as hollow and unsettling as tree branches knocking against the window on a dark, stormy night.
“Wren is alive and well, and I have no plans to harm a single hair on her head. One down.”
“Did you kill Stanfield and take his place before or after he killed Susan and Pike?”
“After,” Ghost stated without any further elaboration. “Two.”
Dillon counted five thundering beats of her heart before Nasa spoke again, “You could have killed Dillon when you busted into her place. Why send her to me instead?”
Ghost didn't immediately answer the question, and truth be told, she was surprised—out of everything Nasa could have asked—that question was his last.
The silence stretched on long enough that she turned her face back toward the mirrors to see what the holdup was. Ghost had a bored look on his face, but a muscle in his jaw jumped with tension.
“Honestly, I hoped the question of why I let her live and what she had to do with my people would have you spinning your wheels long enough for me to find the girl Dillon spirited away, recover my property, and get on with my business. Which I would very much like to do now. Duchess, the drive if you please.”
“Front right pants pocket,” Nasa said from between his teeth. Hand shaking, she slid her hand into his pocket and pulled out the small rectangular object.
“Toss it over,” Ghost ordered, and Nasa took it from her to obey. She waited, watching Ghost study the black piece of plastic. “Where did she hide it?”
“Toilet seat cover dispenser,” Nasa snapped.
Ghost's eyebrows gave a bounce, and he held the drive up to show them. “If this isn't the right one, I'll be paying you a visit, my friend.”
“Fuck you, asshole. It's what I pulled out of the dispenser, and you piped up two seconds later. If whatever you're after isn't on there, it's not my problem.”
“No, I suppose not,” Ghost agreed, tucking his prize into his pocket.