“No problem,” Arlo shrugs. “Your money wire has cleared. It’s a pleasure doing business with you. Now get the fuck out.”
Ralph signals his cronies to come forward. One of them has a tire iron in his hand, and he uses it to open one of the wooden boxes to check the product. Carefully piercing a bag with a knife, he licks it to confirm that it’s good.
I roll my eyes at the theatrics. If he’s used us before, he knows that Connor Cross doesn’t fuck around. It also shows that he doesn’t trust us, and Arlo’s eyes darken with disgust.
“Mm. Yeah, it’s good shit, boss,” the man says.
“As always, thanks for the product,” Ralph says, watching as his men pick up the boxes before following him out.
“Stupid fuckers,” Arlo mutters as the door slams shut.
He’s busy in his tirade as he gets ready to leave, and doesn’t notice as my pack slips out a side door to follow Ralph. They pack up the vehicle while Alaric runs for our car.
“Stay here,” I mutter to Jamie, before using the shadows to get close to Ralph’s vehicle. They’re packing the product into three different cars, and Ralph’s is one of them. It’s a fuck ton of product.
We can’t let that make it out onto the streets. Fuck.
Moving silently, I use the noise of the men loading product to tag the SUV. Syncing it to my phone, I move behind a dumpster to hide until they leave.
“I’ll meet you at the next location,” Ralph says, getting into his vehicle. I watch from my hiding place as they leave, and then run to where Alaric’s car is, his headlights off beneath a broken streetlight.
Thank god this is such a shitty part of town. This would be so much harder in a rich area full of perfectly working streetlights.
Jamie is already in the backseat while I jump into the car, my hand already outstretched for Alaric to follow.
“Stay back, but I have them tagged so we can keep up with them,” I explain, showing him the little dot on my phone.
“You’re such an awesome nerd,” he says, chuckling as he drives. “Your brain is fucking sexy.”
“Are you trying to say that you want to fuck his brain?” Jamie asks, trying to distract himself.
What we’re doing will go a long way to clear Cross Pharmaceuticals from the deaths of these kids. Connor isn’t responsible for people fucking with his drugs when they’re clean. If they had been, that guy who tried the product would already be foaming at the mouth and dead.
“If I could get away with it and he’d still live afterward, I’d consider it.” Alaric chuckles.
“Crazy fucker,” I murmur with a grin, watching the taillights farther up ahead.
Alaric is driving without his headlights so he can’t be seen, and while dangerous, I know he can handle it. This shit would freak Beckham out, but it’s shit that we live for.
Ralph and his guys drive for another twenty minutes before pulling into what appears to be a scrapyard.
“Real classy,” Jamie sneers.
“I’ll keep driving,” Alaric says. “Bail out together.”
He slows down to a crawl as soon as he’s out of sight of the scrapyard, and then Jamie and I jump out, making sure the doors don’t make any noise as we shut them. Alaric keeps going as we pull our hoods up higher and sneak onto the property. There’s a lot of shit to hide behind as we get closer to where there’s a group of people talking with Ralph.
Like before, I stay in the shadows and video record Ralph signing his death warrant. Eddy won’t accept this as anything else but a betrayal because of how against drugs he is.
“This shit that you’re going to cut the drugs with will make them go farther?” he asks a man dressed in a full suit.
It looks so out of place in the junkyard, Jamie has to choke back a silent laugh. Smirking, I have to admit that it’s a very odd outfit choice.
“Oh yes,” the man says. “This works the way that Fentanyl would. It’s almost untraceable, and better than the stuff I’ve been using. It’s also way more addictive.”
“The kids will be back for more.” Ralph smirks.
God, that means way more college kids dropping dead.
