Page 39 of Bad Attitude
“Analyst.” Mercer leans down to pat her long-suffering Labrador. “We want what you’ve got on Renner’s crew.”
“Here? Now?” I don’t try to keep the disdain from my voice.
“Yes, here, now. You think I give up my Fourth of July mornings for the fun of it?” Her mouth purses. “Let’s do it Monday, you can come by the office.”
That’s not even funny.
I nod at Dawkins’ laptop. “You going to fucking write it down?”
“I have a recorder,” he replies, the words clipped.
“Well done.”
Mercer straightens, giving me a hard look. “Maddox, don’t be an ass.”
“Hale, goddammit,” I say through gritted teeth. “Stop fucking calling me by my name.”
“We want details on Kurt Renner’s crew,” Dawkins says. “Physical descriptions, vehicles, known operational bases, behavioral patterns. Everything you can tell us.”
“I’ve met themtwice,” I grind out. “What’s the rush?”
“Twice is enough for what we need for now,” Mercer says lightly. “Andthe rushis called a progress report,Hale. Something to show for the six months you’ve been on this op, because God knows there’s been nothing until now.”
“Save for a bank robbery,” Dawkins points out.
“This takes time, we both know it,” I reply, turning to look out at the waves, trying to absorb some of their calm.
“Are you refusing to cooperate?” Mercer asks.
Fuck, I hate my boss. She’s always been an asshole. “Of course not.”
“Good. Then Kurt Renner. Start there.”
I take a subtle breath and let it out. “Male, white. Late twenties. 5’11, maybe one-eighty. Athletic build, not bulky. Black hair, short. Green eyes. No facial hair, no visible tattoos. Runs the crew and is sole contact for whoever is giving them the jobs.”I presume.But that supports the lie I gave Mercer before.
She jumps right on it. “You still don’t know?”
“Two meetings,” I remind her with a growl. “Get off my goddamn back.”
She smiles; lips thin, no humor.
“Where does he live?” Dawkins presses. “What does he ride?”
“I don’t know that he rides. They used a van for the bank job. He operates out of units in the Art District, and changes them frequently.”
“Which one?”
I scoff. “I’m not telling you that. You assholes will park a sedan in front of it and blow this whole op wide open.”
Dawkins presses his lips thin. “Other crew members?”
“Cole. British, ex-military. Competent. Dario. He’s muscle too. Their tech nerd is a tattoo artist, Tasha.”The one who must’ve done Genesis work. I should’ve realized sooner.
Dawkins raises an eyebrow. “Surnames?”
I give him a cold stare. “If I knew, I’d have told you.”
“Anyone else?”
