Chapter 82: Tracking the Target
At night, Los Angeles was alive with club-goers and street racers. Ron walked among young men in baggy jeans and vintage band t-shirts. His expensive, tailored suit made him stand out like a sore thumb, drawing suspicious glances from everyone around.
"Hey, suit boy, empty your pockets and maybe I won't..."
Rounding a corner, something cold pressed against Ron's skull. He wasn't surprised at all—this was the third mugging attempt he'd encountered that night.
"Kid, has anyone ever taught you who not to mess with in this neighborhood?"
Before the dreadlocked gangbanger could finish his threat, Ron spun around, knocking the gun from the man's grip with his elbow while simultaneously driving his other elbow into the thug's face. The attacker screamed, clutching his nose and doubling over.
Ron's right foot was already in motion, delivering a devastating kick to the crouching man's groin.
"Crack." "Ahhh!"
Ron was pretty sure he heard something important break.
"And I'm exactly the kind of guy you shouldn't mess with." Ron picked up the dropped pistol.
It was a basic Glock 19, one of the more common street guns. Nothing like the high-end custom 1911 that had killed Harry, though it would do the job just the same.
Ron aimed the weapon at the would-be robber: "I'm going to count to three. If you're not gone by then, I'm putting a bullet in your head. One..."
"BANG!" Ron had barely finished saying "one" when he fired a round into the pavement inches from the thug's crotch.
"Jesus!" The gangbanger scrambled away in terror, disappearing around the corner before Ron could even think about counting to two.
"What the hell? I just wanted to take a shortcut. Why is this place crawling with criminals?" Ron muttered, immediately getting a response through his hidden earpiece.
"Who told you to take the scenic route?" It was Paige's voice.
"Alright, now tell me—where's our bald friend right now?"
"Exactly where I predicted he'd be. Still nursing drinks at that dive bar across from the diner your two girlfriends work at. What do you think? Want to drop by and say hello? Maybe ask if they're interested in a little ménage à trois?"
Paige's tone dripped with sarcasm, though her sultry voice still had an effect on a red-blooded guy like Ron.
"Ahem," Ron coughed to cover his embarrassment. "You're reading too much into this. I'm working here, Paige. You know you're the only one for me."
"Sure you are."
"I swear!" Seeing Paige's obvious disbelief, Ron quickly raised his hand toward the security camera on the nearby street corner.
It wasn't that he was afraid of what Paige might do to him. Honestly, if their last encounter happened a few more times, he wouldn't exactly complain—especially if he could remember it properly next time.
Ron was more worried that Paige would take her frustration out on those innocent waitresses at the Brooklyn diner. God help them—even if all of Ron's other romantic interests banded together, they wouldn't stand a chance against Paige on her own.
"Fine, whatever. I don't care what you do. All men are the same anyway—I'll just think of them as your personal playthings," Paige said, mercifully backing down.
"But I still think you should go say hello, because the window booth in that diner gives you the perfect view of our two targets."
"Then that's what I'll do."
Ron tucked the pistol into his waistband, concealing it beneath his jacket, and walked into the diner.
The first thing he noticed was the elderly African-American cashier wearing oversized headphones behind the register.
"Yo, man, you sure you're in the right place dressed like that? You look like you should be walking the red carpet at some Hollywood premiere with all those celebrities. If I didn't have a buddy who just got himself a case of the HIV from messing around, I'd gladly bend over for you—and waive the usual $500 fee."
"Ha, brother, don't sell yourself short. These days, premium service doesn't cost nearly that much." Ron grinned and gave Earl a fist bump. "Maybe you can recommend some upscale establishments. I'm Ron."
"Earl. Semi-professional jazz musician with a couple albums under my belt. Earl's got a good eye for people, and I'm betting you're here for the ladies, right?"
Oleg, having just emerged from the restroom, brushed past Ron on his way back to the kitchen. The overwhelming cloud of Axe body spray he'd used to mask his natural funk nearly knocked Ron off his feet.
"If your food wasn't prepared by that walking biohazard, I might actually consider eating here. Seriously, I doubt he even knows what soap is for." Ron threw his hands up in defeat.
"Papa Earl's gotta warn you—if you mess with these girls' hearts..."
"Ron!" Max's surprised voice came from behind him. "What are you doing here?"
"Just happened to be in the neighborhood. Thought I'd stop by and see you beautiful ladies, maybe grab some food," Ron said casually to Max, then turned back to Earl. "See? We're practically family."
Max led Ron to an empty booth right by the window, offering a perfect view of the sports bar across the street.
"Actually, I know this amazing equestrian who's got incredible riding skills. I'm always hoping to meet up with her again. I just never know when that talented rider might be free for another session."
Since Caroline wasn't working tonight, Ron didn't mind being a little more forward, even giving Max's hand a gentle squeeze while taking the menu.
A sharp exhale came through his earpiece, making Ron smile.
So you can get jealous after all~
"Maybe after we close at two AM... you're driving me crazy right now," Max whispered, her cheeks flushing. No matter how confident she usually was, she still got shy around guys she actually liked.
Worried about other customers noticing, Max immediately switched to her professional voice: "Are you ready to order, sir?"
Ron chuckled but didn't push further. Instead, he held up the menu to shield his face while focusing his attention on two figures in the bar across the street—one muscular, one lean. Perfect. He'd already spotted tonight's targets.
"Can you tell me what menu items haven't been touched by that chef who just walked by? Nothing personal, I just have strong feelings about people who don't wash their hands after using the bathroom."
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