CHAPTER 51

With his weapon tucked into his belt, Hennessy pushed open the door to the roadhouse.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. The lighting was dim and not even turned on in some parts, and the neon signs behind the bar did little to brighten the mood. The smell of beer and bourbon hung heavy in the air. Four people were seated around a table near the end of the room, and the bartender was wiping the bench top.

“We’re closed,”

the older lady behind the bar called out. “We open for lunch after twelve, but I recommend going elsewhere. The chef is sick today, and you don’t want me cooking your food.”

“We’re not here for food,”

Hennessy called back.

His voice caused everyone at the table to look up. The bartender saw the reaction and stepped back.

“Following me, uh?”

Palin called out. “I don’t know why you’d do that.”

Hennessy walked toward the table. Palin was seated in the middle, and the two bikers were on either side of him. Beside them was Tony Stanwell.

“Joe Hennessy,”

Stanwell stood. “You’re either very brave or very stupid. I haven’t figured out which one you are yet.”

“I’m here to get paid,”

Hennessy said. “I heard you were about to catch a flight from Jacksonville to Costa Rica.”

Stanwell squinted. “Where did you hear that?”

“I have contacts.”

Hennessy turned his focus to Palin. “Berkley said you were going to run with my money. And looking at this situation, he was right.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would give my money to Berkley.”

Palin smiled. “I needed to get you out of the office, and you fell for it. I was quite happy with myself.”

“Berkley said you had a to-go bag with two-hundred-and-fifty thousand in it. That’s my payment.”

“Really?”

Palin scoffed and stood. “Berkley has betrayed me again. That stupid old man.”

The two bikers stood and walked toward Hennessy and Lockett.

Lockett pulled back his black leather jacket to expose his handgun. Hennessy’s hand went to his hip.

The first biker’s hand went behind his back, reaching for something on his hip. He slowly moved his hand forward. The second biker did the same, and the two large men held their handguns in front of them.

Hennessy removed the Glock from his belt. Lockett followed and did the same thing. The four men held the handguns before them, pointing toward the ground.

The bikers’ grips on their weapons were steady, their fingers hovering close to the triggers. The muted hum of the roadhouse grew quiet, the air thick with the weight of impending violence.

“Seems we’re in a situation,”

Stanwell said. “Quite a predicament, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

Hennessy kept his eyes on the bikers. He noticed Palin step into the shadows, but his focus was on the bikers.

“If you men don’t want trouble, then you should back out now,”

Stanwell said. “I’ve come down to tie up loose ends before a friend of mine goes on a vacation. I didn’t expect any trouble, so I’ll let you boys leave here unharmed.”

“And I came to get paid,”

Hennessy said. “Palin’s got cash in his car to pay me.”

Hennessy glanced at Palin, who had edged toward the side door.

The first biker stepped forward.

The side door to the bar swung open. Hennessy went to step toward it, but the biker held up his weapon. Hennessy stopped.

“We’re helping him go on his vacation,”

Stanwell said. “And we can’t let you stop him. He knows too much about us. He’s going to help our new accountant understand the complexities of our business, and we need to protect him until then.”

Hennessy stepped toward Stanwell. “Do you really think the Foundation is the only business he stole from?”

“When reviewing the files for this case, I found evidence that Palin embezzled money from Stanwell Constructions. It was before you got into bed with the Rebel Sons, and he thought he could rip you off. He said your books were a mess, and you’d never even notice.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Stanwell squinted at Hennessy, his suspicion flickering into uncertainty. Stanwell glanced at the biker, who lowered his weapon. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“He stole your money. If you want proof, search for invoices to ‘JR Concreting Supplies.’”

“And if we look at ‘JR Concreting Supplies,’ what will we find?”

“That the company never existed, and the money was going directly to Palin’s bank accounts.”

Hennessy nodded. “I have no reason to lie to you. The payments went to the same bank account you used to pay his invoices. You’ll find it all there.”

Stanwell reached forward to the table. “Palin left his car keys behind. He won’t get far if you need to talk to him.”

Stanwell dangled the keys in the air. “In the meantime, I need to make a phone call to my new accountant.”