He goes by Toad. He runs collection out of a yard off Highway 58, and he doesn't He doesn't take late payments kindly. Mike looked at Leo for a long moment. Velasquez, he said.
Yes, sir. Something passed through Mike's eyes that Leo couldn't read. It wasn't quite recognition, and it wasn't quite surprise, and it definitely wasn't anything good. He looked at Bobby.
Bobby looked back. The exchange lasted less than a second. Sit down, Mike said. Leo stared.
What? Both of you. Sit down, right there at the counter. Set the weapons on the floor in front of you.
You can't be serious. I'm the most serious person in this building right now. Mike's voice hadn't changed at all. It was still that same quiet pre-storm flatness.
And it was still the most frightening thing Leo had ever heard. You came in here looking for a way out of something, son. I'm going to give you a better way out than the one you were planning. But first, you're going to sit down, and you're going to put those weapons on the floor, and you're going to act like you have two working brain cells between you.
Can you do that? Leo looked at Corey. Corey looked at Leo. The revolver was still in Corey's hand.
The Mossberg was still in Leo's. And both of them in that moment made the same calculation, the same basic arithmetic of survival that strips everything else away and leaves only the simplest question, what happens next if I don't? Corey lowered the revolver. Leo set the Mossberg on the floor.