Heists and Vengeance

Twelve

Ryder

"Where are you going?" Brett called out to Ryder from the living room, where he was hunched over his laptop.

"To meet Ángel Riviera. He's going to help us with the invitations."

His meeting with him started at seven, and he had to get moving if he wanted to get there on time. He pulled on his shoes, and stepped out of the house. The early August air was nice and warm, but Ryder barely noticed – his thoughts were otherwise occupied. Striding down the street, he glanced at the piece of paper in his hand with the diner's address scrawled on it. He cursed himself mentally for asking Erin to write it down – everyone knew that she had the worst handwriting. He should have asked Brett – or Cole. The big guy had an impressive cursive penmanship, that didn't seem to match his appearance.

Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of being followed. Now that he thought about it – was that the sound of light footsteps behind him? A quiet exhale of breath? He fought the urge to whip around, and tried to walk normally. When he finally reached the next corner, he flattened himself against the wall, his hand gripping the gun in his pocket.

After a few minutes of waiting in vain, Ryder leaned over and peered around the corner.

It was empty.

He could swear he'd felt someone watching him, though. But-who? No one was there after all. The thought of assailants brought his mind back to the moment afew days ago, when the Reaper had forced him into that alleyway. He hadn't goneto Parker Square the next day, like the guy had told him to, because, after all,who was he to give Ryder orders? 

 He pursed his lips and decided to continue on to the diner.  He was on track to be late, and didn't want to end up running around the city on a wild goose chase. He pushed any doubt and unease away, and focused once again on getting to the diner.

Ángel was a friend of his, from way back, in a past he'd rather forget. They didn't keep in touch much, but he was always there for Ryder, ready to do odd jobs for him – only of course, if he got a share of the pay. He just hoped that he would be able to convince Ángel to help him out here.

Finally, he reached the diner, the feeling of being followed long gone. As he walked inside the diner, the bell chimed, but he hardly noticed – he was busy scanning the room for a glimpse of his friend.

The diner wasn't that crowded – a few friends were sitting together in a corner, an old lady near the door, a couple at a table by the window – so he saw Ángel easily.

His friend had changed since he'd last seen him. He'd grown out his choppy black hair, and it was tied back into a ponytail, but a few fringes hung over his dark brown eyes. Ángel was also dressed more neatly – he was in a pressed shirt and pants, instead of the ratty t-shirts he was used to seeing. At least his features were familiar – same too-long face, sharp nose, thin lips that broke out in a wide smile when he noticed Ryder.

"Hey, bro! Haven't seen you in a while," he said, as Ryder slid into the booth next to him. "How are you?"

He didn't respond immediately – the feeling of being watched was back, and stronger than ever. He looked at his friend carefully. "Is there anyone behind me?"

Ángel peered around him. "There's the old lady eating her pizza, and there's the couple who are in the middle of an intense make-out session. And by 'intense', I mean-"

"Okay, okay. I get the idea." Ryder interrupted. He'd seen both earlier, and neither seemed like people to watch out for. Still he'd have to be on his guard.