This wasn't the America of the hippie era.
Traditional conservative values were still the mainstream in the United States at this time.
Michael was left speechless by the shameless behavior of the two people in the Chevrolet. His jaw hung open in shock. Then, remembering that Leo was also a young man—and dating his daughter—he turned sternly to Leo and said:
"If you ever make Emily do something like that, I won't let you off the hook."
"No, of course not," Leo replied.
But in his mind, he couldn't help thinking of that scene a few nights ago—Emily spinning a stick under the moonlight at the hotel in Richmond.
Only a fool would confess that to Michael.
As he dealt with Michael's grumbling, Leo replayed the earlier sensual scene in his mind—not to savor it, but to analyze it. There had been danger hidden beneath the spectacle.
What really caught Leo's attention was the callus on the man's middle finger as he'd raised it in a rude gesture.
Leo glanced at the calluses on his own hand. His expression darkened.
"Boss, they're slowing down," the driver of the Ford said to Karl, who was sitting in the back seat cleaning a gun.
Karl looked up. Ahead of them was a dense field of reeds where the road seemed to disappear.
Karl, a regular on this route, knew there was a sharp turn up ahead—the road bent sharply after the reeds.
"Stop the car! They've stopped too!"
The Lincoln Continental had come to a halt at the curve, its rear end barely visible.
Karl barked at the driver. The driver, one of Karl's trusted men, muttered in frustration:
"Why don't we just go up there and take the money now?"
Karl smacked him on the head.
"If you're so smart, then you can be the boss. Just do your damn job."
"Boss, the Lincoln's rear end is gone—it disappeared!" someone in the passenger seat reported.
Just as Karl was about to tell the driver to move up, Leo suddenly stepped into view at the bend in the road, casually glancing around as he unzipped his pants.
"Damn… Lucky bastard," one of the men muttered enviously.
The three men in the Ford hung their heads in shame, then looked up again with admiration.
"He's walking over here."
"Shut up. I see him."
Leo finished his business, zipped up, and walked straight toward the Ford.
He knocked on the roof. The rear window rolled down, revealing Karl's face.
"Well, isn't this Herbert's bodyguard? What brings you to Lynchburg?"
Leo smiled as he asked.
Karl couldn't read Leo's expression. It was his first time encountering a target who casually greeted his tail. He could only awkwardly reply:
"Yeah, my boss sent me on an errand."
"Then why don't you go first?" Leo was still smiling.
"We…"
Karl stumbled, trying to come up with a reason. Suddenly recalling Leo's excuse just now, he blurted out:
"Our driver needs to use the restroom."
"Boss, I don't need to pee," the driver replied.
"You do now. Get out and take a piss!"
Karl was furious at his underling's stupidity and took it out on the guy in the passenger seat as well:
"You too. Go with him. I don't want him to be lonely."
The man got out and brushed shoulders with Leo, who nodded and said:
"Herbert really hires polite people. Want a smoke?"
Leo held out a cigarette. Karl felt cornered.
Accepting a cigarette through the window would suggest disrespect for his boss. But refusing would be rude.
Leo lifted the cigarette slightly again. Karl reluctantly got out of the car and took it.
Flick! Leo lit it with a silver lighter.
Within a few minutes, the two who had gone off returned, adjusting their belts.
Karl was trying to come up with some small talk when Leo's smiling expression suddenly turned cold.
"That's enough tailing. Go tell Herbert this—when you do business, you keep your word.
Forget about the money."
Karl's temper flared. Insulting Herbert? Unacceptable. He instinctively reached for his gun—only to realize…
It was gone.
Leo was already holding it, pressing the muzzle to his forehead.
The passenger, panicking, reached for his own weapon, but in doing so, his half-fastened pants fell to his ankles.
No gun.
"Looking for this?" Leo raised another pistol, pointing it at him.
Both men threw their hands up instantly.
Their pale thighs quivered in the wind. The scene was absurdly funny.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots rang out—Leo had blown out both front tires of the Ford.
He patted Karl's reddening face and said:
"Road's dangerous today. Don't bother going to Lynchburg."
With that, Leo walked away, gun in hand.
The Lincoln's engine roared as it drove off.
The three men stood there, stunned.
Finally, the driver cautiously asked:
"Boss, are we going back to Richmond?"
"Go back my ass! Wait for the backup convoy."
Karl glared at the road where Leo had disappeared.
"That son of a bitch… This isn't over.
Next time I see him—remind me—I'm shooting him in the damn face.
Fucking pretty boy…"
"Aelia's Bistro! I'm starving!"
Michael almost leapt out of the car before it stopped.
Leo grabbed him and said:
"I'll go get the food. We'll eat in the car."
As he stepped into the restaurant, Leo immediately felt it—two faint, prying gazes.
He walked to the ordering counter as if nothing was wrong, scanning the room with his peripheral vision.
Corner booth.
A man and a woman, laughing and flirting.
But Leo recognized them.
The flirty act was a cover.
"French food should be eaten properly at the table," Michael complained.
"Doesn't seem to stop you from devouring it," Leo muttered, watching the pair as they left the restaurant and drove away in a Chevrolet.
They were nearing Lynchburg now.
Michael, drenched in sweat, asked again:
"Can I finally take this thing off?" (referring to the bulletproof vest)
Leo didn't answer.
Instead, he slammed the brakes, spinning the car into a 180-degree turn, heading back toward the restaurant.
He had caught sight—barely 500 meters ahead—of tire tracks in the dirt, leading off both sides of the road into the forest.
"Ambush ahead!"
As the Lincoln turned, four Ford vehicles burst from the woods, roaring down the road toward them.
Gunmen leaned out of the windows on both sides, brandishing Tommy guns and opening fire.
Ratatatatatat!
Bullets clanged off the Lincoln's metal frame.
Michael screamed in panic.
"Michael, quiet!"
But he wouldn't stop.
So Leo raised a hand and slapped him across the face.
Silence.
Michael blinked in shock.
"You hit me," he said blankly.
"No," Leo replied calmly, eyes still on the road.
"I just helped you calm down."