“Thank God!” I say. “What a mess that was the last time we all tried to switch to burner phones. Twelve new phone numbers to learn.”

Flint gives me a stern look.

“I’m concerned that you’re not taking this seriously enough, Sam. We’re depending on you to pull this off. It’s all on you now.”

“Okay,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I’ll be serious. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“She’s going to approach you again. When she does, act like she’s just another girl that you’re interested in. Ask her out, flirt, be yourself. We’ll let her plant the bugs and then we’ll make sure they don’t get anything useful on us. Pretend like you believe everything she says. Play along. Act stupid. But whatever you do, don’t trust her.”

“Damn, Flint! You don’t need to tell me not to trust her. I won’t. Don’t worry. I’ve got this one hundred percent under control. Personally, I’m concerned about your lack of confidence in me.”

A worried look passes between Jesse and Flint.

“What?” I say. “You don’t think I can do this?”

I stand up, take my wallet out of my jeans, pull out a hundred bucks, then throw it in the middle of the table.

“Who is a betting man? A hundred bucks says I can get this girl to spread her legs for me within seven days.”

The men burst out laughing.

“I’m not taking you up on that bet,” Toby says. “No way in hell. I work too hard for my money.”

“Me either,” Rocco adds.

“Jesse?” I ask.

“Not me, little brother,” Jesse says. “I’ve seen you in action too many times.”

All the other men shake their heads as I glance around the table.

“That only leaves you, Flint,” I say “Want to bet against me? I’ll even sweeten up the pot. Go to two hundred. Come on! I want to win some money. Make a bet with me.”

Flint grins and slaps me on the back.

“I would never bet against one of my brothers. You got this. Make us proud, lover boy. Go do your thing.”

Chapter Four

Lila

––––––––

The noisy diner is crowded with customers, mostly working men with a few senior citizen couples scattered around the room. As soon as I step inside the door, I glance around for Sam and don’t see him.

Good.

This means I’ve beat him to his regular breakfast spot. If he wants to talk to me, he’ll have to search me out and make the first move.

“Just one for breakfast, honey?” a curly-haired waitress asks me before grabbing a plastic menu from the reception stand.

I nod, and she ushers me to a large booth by the windows.

“This okay?”