Colt set the duffel bag on the top of the counter and stepped away, careful not to take his eyes off the realtor. He had muled dope down to the Keys a dozen times before, but Dub Harmon was a new customer, and with anyone new you had to be careful.
The realtor pointed at the duffel. You mind?
As the big man unzipped the bag, Colt’s gaze flitted out the window. His nerves were shot. On every run this was the worst time, the actual exchange. His fear bubbled to the surface, making his palms sweat. What if a curious cop happened to cruise down the lane and see their cars and step inside to investigate? Where would they hide the duffel? Six kilos. Enough weight to lock you away for good. Colt had an inordinate fear of prison. With his movie star face and well toned body he knew he’d be an easy target for every pervert lurking like a phantom behind those iron bars. He’d heard the horror stories, and they’d made him cringe.
He refocused on Harmon, who had opened the duffel and was examining the contents now, taking his sweet time. This – the realtor’s laid back, unhurried manner – was exactly why Colt didn’t like dealing with people he didn’t know. Too many things could go wrong. What if Harmon had been tailed? Or what if, God forbid, he was undercover?
This last suspicion, paranoid or not, was particularly nerve wracking. He reminded himself that this was nothing more or less than a simple business transaction. Deals like this went down every day. Besides, Teddy Mink might be a grade-A prick but he was too smart for a setup. In all the years Colt had known him, Teddy hadn’t been burned once, and he wasn’t going to be now. For one thing, on this particular run the real danger – a ripoff – had already been taken out of the equation when Harmon transferred the payment into Teddy’s offshore account a week before Colt left town. All he was this time, Teddy had assured his mule, was a courier. But Colt’s mind remained uneasy. Why, if the deal was so cut and dry, was the big man dicking around in that duffel? Why didn’t he hurry the fuck up?