Skeeter glanced sideways, keeping her eyelashes lowered as she picked up parts that she didn’t have a clue what they went to. Since she wasn’t sure what the part she needed was called, she didn’t want to ask the men. Besides, the two at the counter didn’t look like they were the kind of men who were very helpful. For that matter, neither did the guy behind the counter.
“We need to make contact. Tell the Leader that the gray bastard is breathing down our necks. We’ve sent some men to stop him, but if we don’t deliver the package soon and disappear, we are in trouble,” the meaner-looking of the two said quietly. “We need more men to kill him.”
“And help Mace,” the larger male growled. “He shot Mace. He needs help.”
“Shut up, you moron,” the male hissed, glancing at Skeeter, who quickly pi
