The trio of dickheads were nowhere in sight. Tad glanced at his watch. Four minutes past one. Son of a bitch, they hadn't been lying about him being out in no time. He descended the concrete steps, then glanced back over his shoulder. Scott was watching him from the doorway, his expression guarded and indecipherable. Tad gave him a two-finger "later" salute and continued on his way. With each step he took, Scott's party favor thumb drive nudged him in the groin.