“You think this could be a bomb?” It’s a valid question, even though we had his dog Lucy sweep the place and find nothing. We’re right to be cautious.
“I’m thinking I’d be an idiot to ignore it.”
“Fuck, I should have brought Lucy.”
“You didn’t exactly fucking know this would happen.”
We run through the warehouse holding the bikes and see Dice standing next to a black sack.
“Dice!” I yell, making him whip his head around. He frowns when he sees us, but jogs over.
“What’s up?”
“The bag. Who dropped it off?”
“Don’t know. It was outside the gates when I got here, with a note pinned to it with Lil’s name on it, saying it was a donation.”
“What do you mean, left outside the gate? Where were you?”
“Shift change. I just took over from Hoops.”
“Shit, right. Okay, get back and stay out of the way while we check it out.”
“What’s going on?” he asks Powers, who is eying the bag.
“Bomb threat,” he answers, stepping forward.
“I’ll do it,” I tell him, not wanting to risk anyone else. He shakes his head. Right now, he’s not just a prospect. He’s the expert.
“It’s gotta be me. If it is a bomb, I’m the only one who can defuse it.”
I scrub my hand down my face, but don’t argue. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
“There’s always a risk when you play with bombs, Midas. But I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not the expert here, but the bag is light as fuck. I questioned what the hell they were donating. Again, I know shit-all about bombs, but I expected it to be heavy,” Dice adds.
“You’d be surprised. I could make a bomb out of a wristwatch,” Powers replies.
“Shit, I did not need to know that.”
“Get to safety, Dice,” I tell him, but he shakes his head.
“All due respect, Midas. You won’t leave Powers, and I won’t leave you. You’re my president right now, which means you’re my priority.”
“And yet you’ll ignore my command?”
“Legs will kill me if something happens to you.”
I close my mouth, unable to argue with that.
He doesn’t gloat. He focuses his attention on Powers. We watch from the edge of the warehouse as he slowly approaches the bag, keeping his movements smooth and even. It feels like the world holds a collective breath.
He bends down, pulls out a pocket knife, and gently cuts through the polyethylene. We watch silently, not wanting to distract him when he looks over his shoulder with a frown. “You got a flashlight?”
I shake my head, but Dice holds up his keys with a small flashlight attached. “Want me to bring it over?”
“Yeah, just go slow. I don’t think this is a bomb, but I want to get a better look just to be sure.”
