Robert Crais - The Two Minute Rule

She held tight to his hand.

“It’s okay.”

Holman shook his head and toed the bags. It wasn’t okay and never could be.

He said, “Marchenko’s money. This is what Richie wanted.”

She touched his face, turning him.

“No. Oh, no, Max, it wasn’t that way.”

She cupped his face in both her hands.

“Richie wasn’t doing what we thought. Listen-”

Pollard told him how his son died and, more important to Holman, how Richie had lived. Holman broke down, crying there on Wilshire Boulevard, but Pollard held on tight, letting him cry and keeping him safe.

WHEN HOLMAN came downstairs Perry was at his desk. Perry usually called it quits by seven o’clock to hole up in his room to watch Jeopardy!, but here he was. Holman figured Perry was waiting for him.

Perry wrinkled his nose.

“Jesus Christ, you smell like a whorehouse. What in hell are you wearing, perfume?”

“I’m not wearing anything.”

“My dick may not work as well as it used to, but there’s nothing wrong with my nose. You smell like a goddamn woman.”

Holman knew Perry would keep hammering at him, so he decided to fess up.

“I bought this new shampoo. It’s supposed to smell like a tropical garden.”

Perry leaned back and cackled.

“I guess it does. And what flower would that be-pansies?”

Perry was killing himself, laughing.

Holman glanced out the front door, hoping to see Pollard’s car, but the curb was empty.

Perry, still enjoying himself, said, “Look at how slicked up you are. My, my-I guess we have a date.”

“It’s not a date. We’re just friends.”

“That woman?”

“Stop calling her ‘that woman.’ I’ll knock you on your ass.”

“Well, she looked pretty fine to me. I was you, I’d tell people this was a date.”

“Well, you’re not me, so shut up. I’ll have Chee send those boys back, bust up your fancy car.”

Perry stopped laughing and scowled. Once everything about Chee had been straightened out, his boys rebuilt Perry’s old beater like they promised. Perry took great pride in tooling around in the pristine classic. A man driving a Range Rover had offered him five thousand dollars for it.

Perry leaned forward again and hunched over his desk.

“I want to ask you a question. I’m being serious now.”

“Aren’t you missing Jeopardy!?”

“Now just wait-you think you got a future with this woman?”

Holman went back to the door but Pollard still had not arrived. He glanced at his father’s watch. He had finally had it repaired and now it kept time pretty well. Pollard was running late.

“Perry, look, I have enough trouble dealing with the present. Katherine is an FBI agent. She has two little boys. She doesn’t want anything to do with a guy like me.”

After the fallout from Cecil, Leeds was left with an opening on the Bank Squad and had offered it to Pollard. Allowing an ex-agent to return to such a sought-after post was highly unusual, but Leeds had the clout to make it happen. Pollard would be able to apply her prior service toward her seniority and eventual retirement. Holman thought it was a good deal and encouraged her to take it.

Perry said, “Well, Jesus Christ, that new pansy shampoo must have made you stupid. The woman wouldn’t be coming here if she didn’t want anything to do with you.”

Holman decided to wait on the sidewalk. He went outside, but thirty seconds later Perry appeared in the door. Holman raised both palms.

“Please, I’m begging you-let it rest.”

“I just want to tell you something. All you know about me is I’m a cranky old man in this shitbag motel. Well, I wasn’t always this way. I was young once and I had chances and opportunities in my life. I made choices that put me here. I sure as hell would make different choices if I had it to do over. You think about that.”

Perry stomped off into the empty motel.

Holman stared after him, then heard a horn. He looked up the street. Pollard was a block away, but she had seen him. Holman raised his hand and saw Pollard smile.

Holman thought about what Perry said, but Perry didn’t understand-Holman was afraid. Katherine Pollard deserved a good man. Holman was trying hard to be better than he had ever been in his life, but he still had a long way to go. He wanted to earn Katherine Pollard. He wanted to deserve her. And he believed-one day he would.

Robert Crais is the author of numerous New York Times, Los Angeles Times, and USA Today bestsellers, including The Forgotten Man, L.A. Requiem, and Hostage. His novels have been translated into twenty-five languages and are available around the planet. Learn more about his work at www.robertcrais.com.