16.
Keogh’s men pick us up at precisely five the next morning. As Rodney gets out from behind the wheel of the sedan, his big brown eyes immediately lock on Leslie.
“Who’s the dame?” he says, while pulling down on the brim of his blue and white New York Giants baseball cap. He’s dressed like a Navy Seal in combat boots, army fatigues, and a tight T-shirt that tells me five sets of bicep curls are far more important to him than s*x.
“My agent,” I say, stuffing my knapsack into the trunk of the car, which Carlos has opened for me. “She’s my partner and she’s coming. No negotiation.” Hefting Leslie’s backpack, I toss it into the trunk beside mine.
Carlos closes the trunk.
“It shall be nice to have a beautiful woman coming along for the ride,” he says in that soft, almost effeminate tone
