Having said a short prayer of thanks to the Big Guy upstairs, I turn to the small man holding the automatic weapon and say the first thing that comes into my head. “You’re in deep shit, pal. This guy works for The Kings.”
“You stupid if you think I’m buying your load of crap.” The small person is smarter than I thought.
If at first you don’t succeed, lie, and lie again.“Do you know how easy it was for me to follow your trucks? You ever heard of drones? If I was in charge, I’d shoot you for dereliction of duty.”
The height-challenged man furrows his brows and his lips purse. He’s buying at least some of what I’m selling so I smile real nice-like and take a deep breath. “I was hired by your boss to check out your security and dude, you failed miserably. You can go ahead and kill me but it’s only gonna piss him off more. I already sent him my drone video. You kill me and you die, too. But that’s not why I’m here. Like you, I wanted to make a little money off this lucrative enterprise. Suds and Sam, we specialize in security, and I can make this little mishap go away. Now, you might be wondering if I’m working for the police but think, if I was, wouldn’t they already be here? This place would be swarming with the FBI, the DEA, and every other flavor of cop but look out the window. It’s quiet and you want to know why? Because I didn’t tell no one.”
The confused man lowers his weapon and I take a deep breath, praying help is close because I’m not sure how much more bullshit even I can make up.
He motions over one of the guys unloading the van and after a short unintelligible conversation, a new man forces my hands in the air.
“That one doesn’t speak English.” Dash mumbles for my ears only and I test out his theory.
“Yo, your mom was so stupid she thought Starbucks was a bank.”
The guard doesn’t moan at my lame joke, so I meander close to my client and lean against the wall. “How badly you hurt?”
“I’ll survive.” He spits out blood, and I hope he’s right.
“When my wife gets done reaming you out, you may wish you didn’t.” As if voice activated, a doll head on the desk whirrs.
Squatting, I stare into the eyes. “Landy, if you’re listening, send a link of this feed to the suppliers in China.”
Hoping she’s there and can do what I ask, I perform as if my life depended on it. “Damn, these guys are incompetent. Hell, a girl scout troop could’ve stolen the shipment. No wonder the idiots lost the last one. What a bunch of amateurs.”
“I can’t believe they led you straight here.” Dash’s improvisations are spot on.
“And now, he’s calling someone else to cover his ass. God knows what lies he’s telling. I heard he’s duplicated the formula and sold it to the boys in Detroit. Soon, they’ll cut out the Chinese, completely.”
I’ve got two chances to win. First, Landy understood my directive and sent our video feed to the fentanyl boss in China. The other bet is just as plausible. If I oversaw an overseas, multimillion-dollar operation, I would damn well monitor my employees. What better way than covertly, through the eyes of the product.
I wait for the phones to start ringing but my luck has run out. Tiny-man has returned and is aiming his weapon at my chest. Now here’s the thing, if you’re gonna kill someone, just do it. Don’t threaten because it gives your opponent a fragment of a second to disarm you. Seeing as how I don’t want to die, I whip a doll head at him, drop to the floor, and kick between his legs.
His miniature nuts crunch under my heel and howling, he bends forward. When his grip loosens, I slip out, twist his neck until it cracks, and as I check his weapon for ammo, the women in the other room start shouting.
“What’re they saying?” Searching the dead man for a second weapon, I turn to Dash.
“Something about a crazy woman.”
Shit. It must be Sam.
Chapter Sixteen
Sam
My bossy partner told me to wait, and I did.Get in, get Dash, and get out.Isn’t that what he said?
As the men unloading the vans stop and rush into the building, I press the comm unit. “Hands? You still there?”
“Good copy.”
“How long before help arrives.” With the guards no longer circling the building, I’m able to inch closer to the open front door.
“About ten minutes, give or take.”
Dammit. My soulmate could be dead by then. Taking a deep breath, I race inside and do a three-sixty. Fluids bubble in stainless-steel tanks connected by a complex maze of pipes. Rattling washer-dryers line the side wall closest to the parking lot. Toward the back of the building, women in masks pour dried white powder into plastic-lined cardboard boxes.
When my brain reengages, I race to hide behind the closest steel tub, but I’ve been spotted. A young Asian woman races away, no doubt to tell those in charge of my presence. I need to create a diversion to save the guys.
