“Whatever.” David seemed frustrated. Maybe not just at her.

“Trouble between criminals?” she asked.

“Destroy her phone,” Antilla, or Javier, or whoever he was demanded.

“No problem.” She handed it to the driver, knowing it was her burner phone. If she had a fighting chance of Cash hearing or locating them, it had nothing to do with her phone.

“We’re not transmitting out here anyway,” David offered. “I set up a portable jammer after she ineffectually planted a listening device on me.”

A listening device? As in one? That was good news.

She was fifteen minutes shy of a check-in with Beth. Someone would wonder about her whereabouts, and Cash was out there somewhere, as her backup. No way he’d leave her hanging, though no doubt he was sweating their loss of communication.

She had a few minutes until they realized the jammer was out. If one of their phones rang, the jig was up. No time like the present to go after the dirt. “Antilla.”

“Javier.”

“Whatever. Seen one twin, seen them all. Same person, right? I had no idea you were so good with bombs. Your daddy taught you that in your gun running education?”

He laughed, harsh and sarcastic. “Nicola. I delegate. You should know that about me. You did spend months by my side, though it should have been between my knees.”

She ignored that and pointed to David. “You delegated to this guy? I’ve learned a lot about him recently. You should really pick better team members.”

“Shut up,” David snapped.

“Seriously. I can tell you that one bomb didn’t do shit, because I spoke to the man whose truck blew. And my parents? Trust me, if you went after my parents, someone’s already on it. Two dud bombs. And to top that off, you did a piss poor job of entering the local arms market. I’m telling you, Antilla, I didn’t expect you to pull the door-to-door salesman routine after your network was disrupted. I expected you to run off to South America or the Middle East to reassure your best clients. Virginia good ole boys seem so beneath you.”

“Shut up!” David yelled.

“What are you speaking of? Of course, I’m reorganizing after this CIA disaster.”

“You’re not moving product?”

“No. To local Americans? Not at all.”

Wait a minute. Smooth didn’t sell the ammo. David’s face wore a splash of dread. “It couldn’t be this simple.”

“Shut up!” David yelled again. “Stupid woman can’t keep her mouth shut.”

Antilla glanced at David but spoke to Nic. “What do you mean simple?”

“I saw Smooth ammo. Only days ago. Your emblem, .50 cal, tracer, incendiary tipped. It was purchased by some yahoos in somewheresville, Virginia. I had thought,” she pointed at Antilla, then moved her finger toward David, “…but, I wouldn’t put it past this smarmy dude—”

David smacked her silent. The sting roared from cheek to chest, fireworks exploding behind her eyelids. God, that hurts.