However, I stop at the wall and place my spine to it.
BAY: How quickly can you send a message to Torin to get him out of this warehouse?
OZZY: Get out of the building.
BAY: Answer me. They have Lorenzo. I need you here.
OZZY: I’m already here.
BAY: Get him out.
OZZY: Working on it.
OZZY: Go.
It’s the trust I have for him that gets me out of the shitty warehouse and into the red truck I was instructed to get into.
It’s his capabilities that have my brain telling me to have faith.
But he’s one man.
Against a bunch of assholes with weapons of war.
You can’t call the cops.
You can’t stride back in there and make a difference with a Glock.
What can you do?
When I get to the red truck, I yank the door open and climb inside, fidgeting with the idea of doing something.
Then, I see the random M-80s lying on the passenger side of the floor like an act of God, small yet loud as shit.
I know there’s a lighter in here.
My eyes look out the windshield, searching the building for a way up to the roof.
There’s a janky ladder.
And that’s all I need to make a distraction to possibly turn the tide of what’s about to happen.
“You’ve got me fucked up if you think you’re about to go back in there.”
I jolt from the muffled voice on the other side of the driver’s side window before my head snaps in the direction of it.
White mask.
Massive shoulders filling out by a black tee.
That thick octave rumbling through my eardrums and settling in my veins.
Levi.
FORTY-FIVE
levi
I’ve never hadan issue running amuck in sticky situations and taking shit as it comes.
