Free Noble Intentions: Season Four by L.T. Ryan Page B

eyes
    focused on him.
    One of them stepped forward.
    "Help you, sir?" Shy. Timid. His voice cracked. Had he even hit puberty yet?
    Jack looked back and made eye contact with the young Hispanic guy and said nothing. Didn't need to. These two were bellhops. Maybe the concierge had sent
    them over to check Jack out. Perhaps they did it on their own volition. Whatever the reason, they weren't in a position to do anything, and they posed no
    threat.
    So he turned back toward the street and performed a quick scan of the sidewalk, road, opposite sidewalk and the Teddy Roosevelt Park. Nothing. He turned
    his attention to the multitude of vehicles in front of him. Quickly, one-by-one, he looked past the clear and tinted windows. Half-way through, someone
    broke his concentration.
    "Sir, do you need some assistance?" Deep. Smokey. Spoken with authority. Like he had a set and could tip a table with them.
    Jack turned and faced a third man. Six-three and three hundred pounds, at least. How had he not spotted him on the approach?
    Tunnel vision.
    The big guy took a few steps forward. Jack held steady. Grease stained the guy's denim coveralls. His face and hands, too. He added to the mess when he
    wiped his cheek while asking Jack once again if he needed assistance.
    "Maybe you should turn around and go wash up," Jack said. "This place has a reputation to uphold."
    The two men in khakis looked at each other. Shock on their faces. No one spoke to Grease Stain like that. His presence alone was supposed to whip Jack into
    answering them. The tower of a man approached. Jack still held steady. He choked a bit as a wave of body odor washed past. The big man reached out and
    placed his hand on Jack's shoulder.
    "Get your dirty paw off me," Jack said.
    The guy squeezed, said nothing.
    "You see my right hand?"
    The guy glanced down, glanced up, said nothing.
    "That's right, you don't. Know why? Because it's wrapped around the grip of my Beretta."
    The guy eased up, but didn't let go. His eyes wavered, like he was unsure what to do now. He'd always been the muscle, but not the brain. On the street,
    he'd smash Jack in the face, the gut, the groin. But in the hotel lobby? What was he supposed to do?
    Jack said, "You don't know me, where I've been, what I've done, or where I live. But I know where you work. Won't take much effort to get the rest. Now get
    your hand off me before I show back up here when your shift ends and jam my pistol up your ass."
    The guy's eyes widened, pupils dilated. Presumably, he wasn't used to being talked to like that. He was the enforcer for Christ's sake. Grease Stain
    released Jack's shoulder from his grip and took a step back. For a moment, it seemed he contemplated lashing out after having been embarrassed by a guy
    close in height, but nowhere near as large overall. In the end, the big guy turned and gestured toward the other two. They looked at each other, then
    walked away.
    Jack shifted back to the window, splitting his focus between the street beyond, and the image of the big man waiting behind. A city bus blocked the view of
    the opposite sidewalk and the park. A minute later, the bus inched forward, gaining speed along with the rest of the vehicles as they made their forty-foot
    shuffle.
    And the man who'd been following Jack stood across the street.
    Jack took a couple steps back, then called out, "Hey, Grease Stain."
    The big man stopped near the elevators and looked back.
    Jack jogged toward him. The few people seated in the lobby looked away as he approached. They'd been watching. Might've even overheard what Jack said to
    the big guy. Whatever had happened, they apparently didn't want Jack to know they'd been eavesdropping.
    The smell of stale coffee hung thick in the air, leaving a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. Someone needed to change out the pot before a guest
    poured a cup and complained to management. An upscale place like this might fire someone over such an offense.
    Grease Stain continued to