With an annoyed puff of air, I shift backwards, dragging Adrian up off the sofa. He puts up a fight this time as I manhandle him over to the balcony doors, but a knee to his balls and a throat punch quell that shit. I get the glass doors open and shove Adrian out onto the balcony. Crowding him back against the metal railing, I get up in his space and bend him over it until all I'd have to do is give him a hard push and he'd fall to the pavement below.
Adrian's gaze darts over my shoulder to stare hopefully at the door. But when nothing happens and no one comes to save him, he looks back up at me in resignation. I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting for a response to my last question, which Adrian reluctantly gives.
"Paul Winters made contact with this massive bitch called Lucille. She's some kind of international smuggler or whatever. Big deal, apparently." He snorts. "She's got Paul all excited about this new product. It comes from Columbia, made by some big-time drug cartel. Lucille is the go-between."
Jesus Christ, that's one hell of an upgrade. Since when does Paul Winters have the clout to think he can handle that level of nightmare? You don't fuck with Columbian cartels. They won't just slaughter your family if you piss them off, they'll cut the head off anyone you said hello to once in the fucking street. Either Paul is in way over his head, or something fundamental has changed in their organisation. Both prospects are terrifying for different reasons.
"Is the product being brought in by boat?" I ask. That seems the most likely option. Most illegal goods get trafficked through Danger City's port. When Adrian nods in confirmation, I prod, "And how much is getting brought over?"
"Not a lot, before," Adrian answers, then winces when he realises he shouldn’t have said it like that.
I scowl at him. "What's changed?"
He hesitates and I give him a sharp shake, tipping him over the railing a bit more. He rushes to answer. "They only sent a small portion over at first, to see if there was a taste for it, and if Paul could distribute it without problems. But this time the shipment coming in is going to be a lot bigger."
Fear lances through my heart. "How much bigger?"
Adrian swallows audibly, nerves etching over his face. "A metric tonne."
Fucking hell. With that amount, they'll be able to flood the streets with blue powder. There's no way we can let that happen. I picture Tony's dead face. No way.
There's lots of noise behind me and I turn my head. Looking over my shoulder, I catch Milo swinging his bat into the face of the first man who comes barrelling through the door to Adrian's flat. The big man goes down with a broken nose, blood spraying everywhere.
Another man comes in after the first and trips over his friend's dropped body, allowing Milo the chance to throw another swing. He gets the second bloke in the knee, a loud cracking sound ringing out through the flat, and he goes down on top of his friend, screeching in pain from the broken kneecap Milo just delivered.
A third man comes, but this one sees what's happened to his friends and avoids falling over them. Milo backs up and readies his bat for a tougher fight this time. The third man levels a death glare at Milo, whose face I can't see but imagine to be set in a similar snarl of challenge.
"What the fuck?" The third man spits furiously at Milo. "You little cunt, I'm going to cave in your fucking skull with that bat and mash your pretty face to pulp."
Milo, unbothered by the name-calling and the threat, used to both, gives his bat a playful swing. There’s malice in his voice when he says, "Sorry, dickhead, but my bat is realparticularabout who he commits acts of violence with, and trust me, you won’t be going through to boot camp."
There's a second where nothing happens, and then the third man springs into action. He leaps over his fallen comrades and makes an aggressive swipe at Milo, attempting to snatch the bat away from him. Milo, quick as a whippet, easily evades his attacker, using the man's own miscalculated momentum against him by letting him get close before darting out of the way.
Shoved off balance by his violent exuberance, the man bowls over with a little help from Milo's bat, which he brings down low enough for his wannabe opponent to trip over. Once the man is sprawled out on the ground, Milo doesn't waste any time in bringing the bat around in a hard swing to the man's back, who lets out a pained yell.
Trusting Milo to handle himself, I switch my attention back to Adrian. He's been watching the very one-sided fight between his friends and Milo's bat. When he realises I'm looking at him again his wide, terrified eyes flicker up to meet mine. "Your boyfriend is bloodymental, mate," he tells me like he's doing me a favour by saying it.
When I fix the twat with a harsh glare, he flinches away from me. "When's the next shipment coming in?" I bark at him. He doesn't respond immediately so I shove him almost all the way over the railing and try asking again. "When?"
"Tonight, down at the docks," Adrian answers, quick this time. "Midnight."
This next question is a gamble, but it's too important not to ask. "Will the Winters be able to pay back the money they'll lose if they aren't able to sell the product from this latest shipment?"
Adrian's eyes somehow widen even more. "You planning on fucking with the shipment tonight?"
Obviously, yes.
"Just answer the fucking question, Adrian, or I swear I'll commit an act of public service by letting your skull smash on the pavement like a dropped melon."
Adrian sucks in a sharp breath, hopefully seeing the truth of that statement in my eyes. "No. Finances have been rough lately. Paul Winters has been running things into the fucking ground. This was supposed to be his big play. If he loses this shipment, those Columbian bastards will take his head off."
Brilliant, that's exactly what I hoped he'd say. I can't think of a better end for Paul Winters than death by cartel decapitation.
Now all I have to do is scope out the docks tonight and somehow destroy the new shipment of drugs.
I narrow my eyes at Adrian. "You going to tell your bosses about this the second we leave?"
Adrian gives his big head a dramatic shake. "Nah, nah, mate, 'course not. Wouldn't do that to you and your boy." He jerks his chin in Milo's direction, who from the sound of things is still beating the hell out of Adrian's friends. He's taunting them mercilessly as he does it, too.
