Page 121 of I Will Ruin You

“We’re ready,” a woman said.

“Same here. You got the money?”

“Do you have what’s ours?”

“Of course, what the fuck? Yes. So I’m gonna send someone over with it.”

“We want to deal with you. Who’s this other person?”

“Just a friend,” Stuart said, and gave me a smile, like we were pals. “He’s not a cop or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid.”

“No, of course not,” the woman said.

“Show me the money,” Stuart said.

“Can’t very well show it to you from here.”

“Hold it up or whatever.”

“A moment.”

We could see some movement in the car. Then the passenger door opened and a man stepped out.

“That’d be Gerhard,” Stuart said. “And the woman is Andrea. Billy told me their names.”

Gerhard was holding a backpack by one of the shoulder straps. He held it up high so we could see it.

“Okay, that’s good. He can just stay there,” Stuart said. “Give us a minute on this end. Sending him over shortly.”

Stuart ended the call, dropped the phone onto the seat between us. It was still glowing.

“I don’t trust those two,” he said. “I’ll get the bag. Don’t try running off. If I don’t shoot you, they probably will.”

I said nothing. My eyes kept going to the phone.

“Give me the key,” Stuart said. I removed the key from the ignition and put it into his hand. He got out of the truck. Once he had his feet on the pavement, he folded the seat forward so he could drag out the carry-on bag.

I had been waiting for an opportunity. This was as good as it was going to get. I picked up the phone with my right hand and immediately moved the small switch on the side down, muting it. I opened up the messages app.

“Fucking thing is really jammed in here,” Stuart said.

I tapped the icon in the upper right corner to send a text. Where it said “To” I quickly tapped in Bonnie’s phone number.

Stuart hauled out the bag, set it on the pavement, and pushed the seat back into position. I was about to type out a message, but stopped, rested my hand casually over the phone. Stuart closed the passenger door, extended the handle on the top of the bag, and started to wheel it around to my side. While he was passing the truck’s front end, I moved my thumb across the miniature keyboard as quickly as I could. Hit send. Took one fast glance at what I had texted.

WALNT BEAHC.

Two typos, but clear enough. I turned the phone over onto the seat as Stuart reached my side of the truck and opened the door.

“You’re on,” he said, the gun in his left hand, the suitcase handle gripped by his right.

I undid my seat belt and slid out of the truck. I took the case from him and took a step away from the vehicle. Stuart moved the gun to his right hand, positioned himself behind the door, using it like a shield, and rested his right arm on the sill of the lowered window.

“Away you go,” he said.

I walked slowly toward the Audi. The driver’s door opened and Andrea got out. She and her partner, still holding the backpack, met at the front of the car and waited for me to get there.

When I was no more than six feet away, I stopped, wheeled the bag around to stand in front of me, and said, “Hey.”