Page 73 of Hunted: Season Two
Particularly when clients – domestic as well as international – pay for the level of anonymity he can guarantee.
The young blood is to computers what The Kid is to cars.
It’s impressive.
And has been a Mack truck sized blessing to us during this McAdam’s shit.
The same shit that has me feeling a lug nuts worth of guilt fornotbeing at home.
Watching.
Waiting.
Guarding.
That fucker is overdue for delivering another brake check to our lives.
And despite the fact that Zero has no new digital activity to report, I know better than to believe we’re in the clear to simply speed ahead for the next stretch of highway.
No.
That’s the shit I know he wants.
That’s the shit he won’t be getting.
We can’t risk it.
Especially not with Rabbit being pregnant.
Which equally excites and scares the shit out of me.
“One more hand is all I’ve got in me,” Samson defeatedly sighs as Garcia picks up the cards to shuffle. “Pre-game day ritchy requires my balls licked and me passed out by ten in order to get a solid seven before pracky.”
“What else is in your pre-game ritual?” Hans curiously inquires between sips of his scotch.
“Why do you wanna know, Doc?” Samson quirks a cautious eyebrow. “You tryin’ to shop me some shit that The Show can’t track in a piss test?”
“I don’t do that.” Hans pauses and proudly grins. “Icando that.” He tilts his head to one side. “But Idon’tdo that.”
“What exactly do you do?” I prod, gaze concentrated on the objects being worked around.
“Whatever my clients need,” Hans slyly states. “They request my services – and my vast network – to avoid doctors’ offices, hospitals, and sometimes surgical suites, so I make that happen.” My gaze cuts to his, prompting him to add, “They are times when they confuse with me with their drug dealers, which is when my services are denied, and their needs redirected elsewhere.” Another sip slips in between statements. “I do keep records of who is on what for medical purposes. It’s easier to actually save your fucking life when I know what’s in your fucking system.”
“Such a hero,” Garcia mirthfully pokes.
“Just because I wanna keep your ass alive long enough for me to get paid doesn’t make me a villain.”
“It doesn’t exactly make you a saint,” Zero good naturedly goads.
“I know the lines I won’t cross,” Hans announces prior to putting down his drink to pick up his cards. “That’s more than I can say for most in my world.”
His particular phrasing prompts an unexpected light to pop on in my head. “You travel all around the country, right?”
“Yes.”
“Working for wealthy individuals?”
“Yes.”