Page 25 of Above ’N’ Beyond

“Fist, it’s Nicky. Tony wants you to meet us at Patch’s. It’s a bar in New City. Get your ass over there.”

Jamie looked at his phone. It was three thirty. He didn’t know exactly where Patch’s was, but New City was at least fifteen minutes away. His shift at the Bistro started at five. Bella would kill him if he was late again.

Declining Tony’s order wasn’t an option. “Be there in twenty.”

…

Jamie parked outside Patch’s but didn’t go in right away. He said he’d be there in twenty. He’d made it in fifteen.

While he watched the locals stream in the front door, he tapped his fingers on the wheel. Jax rested his head on Jamie’s shoulder and sighed. Even Jax knew something about this meeting was odd. With all the bars and restaurants in Nyack, including the Bistro, why meet in New City?

He’d checked his six the entire drive over here. No one had followed him. If they had, they were the best surveillance team he’d ever encountered. Not likely.

Could be paranoia, but whatever this meeting was about, he wanted his partner as close as possible. With help from a trusted mechanic, Jamie had retrofitted the Tahoe so he could lock it up with the engine and the AC running. While he was inside, Jax would be cool and comfortable.

Jamie opened the door, and Jax rested his paw on his shoulder, as if telling him not to go in.

“Yeah, I know.” He scratched the soft fur on his dog’s neck. “I’ll watch my ass in there, you watch it out here.”

Jax uttered a soft woof but didn’t look any happier.

Jamie locked up the Tahoe and went inside. Judging by the clientele, most of whom were over sixty, Patch’s was a local bar. The building was old, the inside dark and dingy, and smelling of spilled beer that had never been cleaned up. Music blared from an old jukebox in the corner. Being a Saturday afternoon, the place was busy. Most of the tables were filled, with only a few empty seats at the bar.

Nicky, Paulie, and Sammy sat at the far end. No Tony. No Marco. Paulie saw him first, waving him over and nudging Nicky’s shoulder. Jamie headed for the men, methodically scanning for anything or anyone out of place. Like someone he might have arrested. No familiar faces he could see, not that he remembered everyone he’d locked up. Only a few women, including a waitress, gave him any lengthy looks.

“Yo, Fist!” Sammy clapped him on the back. As usual, the man wore sneakers.

Nicky texted on his phone, then set the phone on the bar before Jamie could see who he’d sent the message to. Nicky’s manicure made his fingers gleam like they were tipped with diamonds.

“Grab a seat.” Nicky signaled to the bartender, a grizzled man who reminded Jamie of Rip Van Winkle, wise face, long beard, and all. “What’ll ya have?”

“Water,” Jamie said to Rip.

“Nah.” Nicky grimaced. “They don’t serve water here. Get him a whiskey.”

Whiskey was the last thing he needed. “Where’s Tony?” he asked, glancing at the door.

“He’ll be here,” Paulie said, then began popping sunflower seeds as if they were candy.

Nicky downed his drink and signaled for another. “He’s runnin’ late. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch.”

Rip-the-bartender returned with Jamie’s drink, then topped off Nicky’s. Ironically, it was Pappy Van Winkle Bourbon Reserve.

“Cin cin.” Sammy held up his glass.

Paulie did the same. “Salute.”

Warning flags prickled across Jamie’s scalp. He still couldn’t shake the feeling something was royally off about this meeting. He took a small sip, relishing the burn as it trickled down his throat.

Fifteen minutes and another bourbon later, those warning flags whipped harder, smacking Jamie in the back of the head and telling him it was time to find out WTF was going on.

They were stalling. Trying to keep him here. But for what? For that matter, if this meeting was so important, why wasn’t Marco here?

“Where’s Marco?” he asked.

Sammy and Paulie shrugged.

“I’ll find out.” Nicky grabbed his phone, then walked to the other end of the bar.