“You don’t know him like I do.”

“I know he said he’d be here at three. It’s ten after.”

“With traffic out here, ten minutes late is early. Quit worrying.”

The thief started to say something more, but his partner gave him a piercing look. Unlike Drieson’s, the thief took his partner’s death look seriously. He looked around the bar and decided his partner was right. Arguing might have drawn some unwanted attention. Since he had a suitcase full of quality diamonds that didn’t exactly belong to him under the table, that was the last thing they needed.

Drieson drank some of his beer and looked back at the thief. “Do you think we would set this job up and change our minds? You did the work; we are men of our word. Bojan will be here with the money.”

The thief sensed Drieson was talking to himself as much as he was to them. He could tell the Serbian mobster wasn’t too thrilled with Bojan’s lack of punctuality.

Just then, a tall brunette, wearing a black dress that just barely covered up the parts of her that were supposed to be covered walked confidently to their table. The thief was thinking what a shame it would be to tell her they weren’t interested, but as fine as she may have been with the quarter-million dollars Bojan was supposed to be bringing, he could find another woman. He might have to pay for her, and she might not look as good as this one, but he wasn’t about to risk this kind of payday over a woman. Even one that looked like her.

She surprised them all when she said, “Bojan sent me.”

Drieson looked her over carefully. “Do I know you?”

“No.”

“And you expect me just to believe you?”

She sat down and reached into her purse, producing a thick stack of cash. She set it down in the middle of the table.

The thief palmed it and slid it down to his lap before anyone saw it.

“That is ten thousand dollars. I have twenty-four more of those in my car,” she said to the thief before turning to Drieson. “Do you believe me now?”

“Why isn’t he here himself?”

“You’d have to ask him, but I’d say he doesn’t trust one of you.”

“I vetted these two myself,” Drieson said. “They’re solid.”

“Maybe he doesn’t trust you.”

“Normally, if Bojan couldn’t make it himself, he’d send Govran.”

“Who the hell is Govran?” the woman asked.

“His personal bodyguard, they were in the military together…” Drieson explained.

“You mean Milos?”

“Do I?”

“I don’t know, but Bojan only has one personal bodyguard. His name is Milos, and they met in prison.”

“I suppose you do know Bojan. That doesn’t explain why you’re here instead of him and Milos.”

“You’ll have to ask Bojan about that,” she said. “He only tells me what to do, he never says why.”

“I’m guessing most of the time it’s self-explanatory,” the thief said with a leer.

“You would be correct, but today, he sent me.”

“I’m going to need to see those other twenty-four stacks,” the thief said.

“I was under the impression this was an exchange.”

“It is.”

“Then I need to see what I’m paying for.”

“You aren’t paying for a damn thing,” Drieson told her. “You’re just the go-between.”

“Either way, I need to see that I’m getting something in the exchange.”

“I’ve seen the goods. Are you saying you don’t trust me?” Drieson asked.

“Would Bojan just take your word for it?”

Drieson looked away instead of acknowledging she was correct. Bojan didn’t trust anybody. If Bojan learned she’d made the exchange without checking the merchandise, it might be the last thing she ever did. As far as Drieson could tell, the next time Bojan forgave someone would be the first time.

“Not in here.”

“I’m parked in the back,” she said as she stood up and walked out.

For the first time, the second thief spoke. He’d been so quiet Drieson wondered if maybe he was mute.

“If this is some kind of set-up, you’re going to die first,” he said as he looked at Drieson and raised up the meaty hand that had been resting on the table. In doing so, he revealed a short-barreled .45, small enough to disappear under his large hand.

“Why would I do that? I hired you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time somebody decided it’d be easier not to pay us. I’m just saying, if that’s what this is, it’ll be the last time.”

“I like your work, and I’m in this for the long game.”

“Good, but if this is some nonsense, this is your chance to tell us. We can find another buyer; you can still get your cut.”

“If Bojan sent her, then this is on the level.”

“You sure he sent her?”

“It’s unusual, but he’s not the type to talk out of school. If he didn’t tell her to come, I don’t see how she’d know.”

“A woman like that can make a man do things he might not normally do.”

“If she betrayed Bojan, there will be nowhere for her to hide.”

“She certainly couldn’t be hiding any weapons in that dress,” the first thief remarked.

The second thief stood up. “Let’s do this then.”

The three men made their way out to the back parking lot. It was still early, and the bar hadn’t started filling up yet. She was leaning against one of three cars in the lot, a shiny new BMW X7, parked in between an older model Mercedes and an even older Ford SUV.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

“Bojan let you drive his car?” Drieson asked.

“I had to get here somehow. This isn’t exactly around the corner.”

“Well, it will be worth your while,” the first thief said as he set his briefcase on the hood of her car.

He looked around to make sure no one was watching before opening the case to reveal the diamonds.

She plucked one out and rolled the big stone between her fingers.

“You even know what to look for?” the first thief asked.

“I know what a cubic zirconia feels like.”

“That ain’t one of those.”

She put it back. “No, it’s not.”

The thief closed up the briefcase. “I’m going to need to see those other twenty-four stacks.”

“Of course.”

She stepped back and opened the trunk with a button on the key fob, one of three fobs she had on her key chain. While the thieves and the mobster were watching Bojan’s BMW, she pressed the buttons on the other two.

The trunk opened and the thief stepped closer to look inside. He expected a briefcase that matched the one he was carrying. Instead, he saw a masked man pointing a shotgun at him.

The Ford Bronco trunk opened and inside were two people wearing long sleeve coveralls like a mechanic would wear, black gloves, and motorcycle helmets. They were both pointing pistols. The trunk of the old Mercedes popped open and another guy rolled out in the same outfit, sporting a pistol in each hand.

The thieves froze.

“Do I need to explain the situation?” the brunette asked coolly.

Drieson was thinking at least one of the people in the coveralls looked like a woman when he noticed the second thief eyeing him.

“I told you what would happen,” the second thief said.

Drieson started to protest, but the second thief fired from the hip, catching him in the gut before he could say a word.

The shotgun roared first, putting a hole you could see through in the first thief. The second thief turned to the brunette, figuring he’d take her with him, but the guy with the two guns was faster on the trigger. He hit the thief center mass with a bullet from each gun. The thief was still standing when the person in coveralls, who Drieson was thinking might be a girl, shot him in the face.

Drieson fell to the ground. He could feel the blood rushing out of him from the two big holes the thief’s gun had made in his sizeable belly.

A voice that didn’t belong to the woman in the short dress said, “Gnarly,” confirming Drieson’s suspicion that one of the people ripping them off was a female.

The woman in the short dress shouted, “We need to move! Someone inside might have heard the shots!”

“I don’t know,” a male voice said, “music was pumping in there.”

“Just move, idiot,” the woman in the short dress said as she took back the stack of cash she’d given to the first thief.

Drieson managed to look up and see the woman in the short dress scoop up the suitcase and get into Bojan’s BMW. He couldn’t believe Bojan had ripped them off. Even though he was bleeding and on the ground,  Drieson was thinking he could live through this. He’d been told two things about being shot in the gut. The first was it hurt like hell. He could confirm that part. The second was while certainly potentially fatal, it was a slow process. If he could get medical attention, he could survive. Even if the ‘idiot’ was right and the music inside the bar covered up the shots, Drieson had his phone. All he had to do was stay on the ground and wait for them to leave. Once they were gone, he could call for help himself.

Or he would have been able to, if the Ford Escape hadn’t rolled over his head on its way out of the parking lot.

The woman robber leaned out the window, saw Drieson’s flattened head, and said, “Gnarly” again before they drove away.