It was almost nine when they left the SUV—on the lowest level of the parking garage this time, nose out for a fast exit—and collected their gear. Zach and Ben already had their pistols holstered at the back of their waists, hidden under their jackets. Ben had the case with the break-down sniper rifle hanging off one shoulder. He and Zach would carry the backpacks holding everything else the team needed, including Ez and Hayley’s guns. Keeping them, too, was necessary since the couple couldn’t take them to the bar and risk the doorman finding them if he did a pat-down—a possibility given the neighborhood.
At the moment, Hayley looked nothing like her true self. She was wearing a long, black, curly wig, glasses with rhinestones decorating the earpieces, enough make-up for two women, and a s
