The Proposition - Part Seven

Burn Notice

The three of them barreled south in a stolen Camry with broken A/C and dried blood on the back seat. Brody kept pressure on the crease in his shoulder, leaking through two shirts but still talking trash. Scarlet rode shotgun, purse on her lap, hard-drive rattling like a bomb no one wanted to claim. Eve drove, eyes flat on the horizon, cigarette dangling, knuckles white.

Scarlet finally snapped. “Next time you decide to bait a billionaire sociopath with my skull, maybe give me a heads-up?”

Eve didn’t flinch. “Heads-up would’ve ruined the surprise.”

Brody barked a laugh, then winced. “Quit whining, Red. You’re breathing, aren’t you?”

“Barely.” Scarlet turned in her seat. “And you’re bleeding on my heels.”

“Cheap shoes,” he muttered.

Eve killed the argument with a raised palm. “Focus. DuBois is alive. That means he’s already pulling fail safes.” She tossed a burner into Scarlet’s lap. “Check the inbox.”

Scarlet scrolled. One new message: a low-res photo of DuBois at Jackson Memorial, IV in his arm, phone in the other hand. The caption read: KERN 5PM. DELIVER OR I DETONATE.

Scarlet frowned. “Who the hell is Kern?”

“Robert Kern,” Eve said. “Assistant Special Agent in Charge, Miami field office. Dirty as a dumpster. DuBois feeds him kickbacks for federal blind eyes.”

Brody spat out the window. “Great. We poked a billionaire and woke the feds.”