Page 198 of Fury
“White guy with a beard and mustache?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“I’ll be two minutes. If he comes back, keep him talking, but donotleave with him.”
Jilly grimaced. “I’d never leave with some random guy.”
Slash bulled her way through the bar, her gaze sweeping the eatery in search of her target. Once in the main dining room, she did a broad sweep for a man in a cap, then circled back to anyone with a beard.
That’s half the damn restaurant.
She strode to the men’s room, pushed open the door. Two guys at urinals glanced over.
“You’re in the men’s,” said one of them.
“Have you seen a guy in a ball cap, beard and mustache?” she asked as she strode toward the stalls.
“I’m busy peeing,” said one.
“Nope,” said the other.
She looked under the door. Though she saw no legs, she kicked open each door to ensure he wasn’t standing on the toilet.
“Dammit,” she bit out.
She left the restroom, strode into the large dance hall at the back of the restaurant. Country music filled every corner of the room while a large crowd strutted in unison to the beat. She did a quick check for a bearded guy, but didn’t see anyone that resembled Greg. She spotted a man sitting in the corner with abeard and mustache, but no cap. As she got closer, she saw he had a receding hairline and looked much older than her target.
Out she flew, pausing to check the smaller dining rooms. No luck finding Greg.
Fuck. Fuck.
Her pager buzzed. She hurried back to Jilly. “Did he come back?”
“No, but I saw a guy in a cap heading toward the exit. He might have left.”
Slash charged through the crowd. Once outside, she hurried into the parking lot.
She was aware that she must’ve looked insane, but she didn’t give a damn. She scanned the area, but didn’t see him.
She pulled her phone from her back pocket, called Carrera.
“Hey, babe,” he answered. “How’s dinner?”
“I think Greg was here,” she said. “I didn’t get a visual, didn’t get him in a vehicle either. Can you see if you can pull surveillance?—”
“At Jericho Road?”
“Jilly ran into some guy here who fits Greg’s description.”
“I’ll ask Jericho for parking lot video.”
“Thank you.”
“Alright, babe, try to chill. Don’t forget G-ma’s French fries. I love you.”
“I love you.” She hung up, returned to the hostess stand.
“Sorry about the mix-up,” the hostess said. “Jericho’s table is ready.”
