“And lost.” Mike gave me a thumbs-up. “I doubt he’ll be more afraid of me than you, but I’ll give it a shot.”

The guard steered Hanson inside. He had the physique of a man who frequented the gym. Isaac was a beast for taking him down.

Hanson sneered. “The Feds, huh? Tell me why I have the pleasure of your company.”

Mike offered a slight smile and introduced himself and me. “Nick, you have an impressive military record—two tours in Afghanistan, sharpshooter, covert ops in Syria. Now you’re in jail, and your buddy Stan Watkins is dead. Which puzzles me why a man of your caliber took a hit man job from a lowlife like Eli Chandler.”

Hanson eyed him. “We were minding our own business when this old guy attacked me and my buddy in the parking lot. We got hot and followed him inside. The old guy shot my buddy, and I surrendered so he wouldn’t kill me.”

Mike tapped his finger on the table. “The ‘old guy’ is a Fed. You were wearing ski masks and admitted Chandler hired you. Let’s get past the Halloween party. We can talk to the judge on your behalf, but only if you cooperate.”

Nick squinted. “How?”

“How long have you and Stan Watkins been working together?”

“About five years.”

“Did you recruit him?”

Hanson nodded.

“What about Arthur Shell?”

“Never heard of him.”

Mike folded his hands on the table. “Tell us about Chandler.”

“That would put me on his hit list.”

“You’re already there just by talking to us.”

“What kind of deal can you offer me?”

Mike eyed him. “Depends on what you give us.”

“Never met Chandler. He calls when something needs done.”

“Like what? Hit contracts?”

“Errands.”

“Give me an example.”

“Drive-through Sonic. Pick up his dry cleaning.”

Mike stood. “Denton, take over. As far as I’m concerned, Chandler can have him.”

I’d played this game before. “Nick, you’re wasting our time, and neither of us is in the mood to sift through lies.”

Hanson laughed. “Black-and-blue agent thinks he can intimidate me?”

I nodded. “You know the saying ‘Don’t mess with a wounded animal’? Exactly how I feel. You have a choice—answer my questions or face Chandler.”

Hanson swore. “All right. I might have one answer.”

“Question number one—how long have you been working for Chandler?”

“Ten years.”

“As a hit man?”

“I collect money owed to him or whatever he needs.”

“Give us your job details regarding FBI Special Agent Isaac Sims and Shelby Pearce.”

“I didn’t know the old man was a Fed. The woman had just gotten out of prison and knew something Chandler didn’t want her telling.”

I held up a finger. “What?”

“No idea.”

“Hmm. Chandler wanted Shelby Pearce dead because he was afraid of being blackmailed?”

Hanson shrugged. “He didn’t trust her. But the order could have come from Chandler or his boss.”

“Name?”

“Never heard it.”

“How does the big boss make money?”

Hanson glanced away, and I gave him time to think before I spoke again. “I need more for the judge to look favorably on your charges. Attempted murder and an attack on a federal agent will keep you locked up a long time.”