We pass by Greer and he sits there, not saying anything, lost in his thoughts.
“Prospect. Let’s go.” He’s almost ready to be patched in but he hasn’t fully seen the extent of the businesses. He grunts in response.
I don’t know what happened to him months ago, but I know the look of grief when you don’t want to express it to someone. We let Memphis and D.R know where we are heading, keeping the communications open.
The three of us ride through the blistering chill, a complete opposite of the warm sun and heat that I was used to. The whipping cold wind stings our faces, or any exposed skin.
The guys stay close, as we go from busy highways to populated main streets, towards the outskirts of the big city.
We park a block down from Bobby’s main shop.
Our guns holster to our side. Last resort if need be.
“What are we doing here Keola?” Greer asks. Sometimes prospects don’t ask many questions, they take orders. But I’m not dumb to expect that they know exactly what to do, walking into the unknown.
“Bobby has skipped out on payments for our deliveries and then a few weeks ago when we tried to reach out, he went into hiding. Joaquin here was able to find him, obviously didn’t stay hidden too long,” I start to explain.
I reach in my backpack on my bike and pull out a manila clasp envelope. “No payment means our last threat, aka blackmail. Thanks to Johnny and Matthew we have enough coverage on our end and enough to pull him on to the short list for the IRS.” Sometimes overkill, but we have done it before.
Joaquin remains quiet as he checks his phone. I interrupted him, “Got anything else to add?” I break his concentration from this phone. He jerks back and slides the phone back into his pocket and shakes his head.
I roll my eyes, “Look, hopefully there won’t be fire, but just be ready.” Greer nods his head in agreement.
Between the hustle and bustle of the city, there is more traffic than usual, which means more eyes, but wolves know how to stay hidden. The guys trudge along. Jaoquin quiet as can be and Greer just following along. Something has already been feeding my curiosity.
“Greer, where did the name Sparky come from?” I have to ask. Tessa had been calling him that from day one.
“I don’t know. But Tessa is the only one that knows. Ask her.” He bites out.
“Watch it, I’m just poking fun.” I responded, “You sure everything is okay?”
He just nods. No words. Nothing to say, no comeback. More and more I begin to worry about him. Maybe someone can get to him or pull something out of him.
Bobby’s storefront is piss poor excuse for a business. It just screams shady and horrendous. He claims to be a jeweler, but the “jewelry” that he inquires about are fakes, knockoffs, and duds. The awning is yellowed and torn. The windows are filthy and built with grime. I’m surprised that the code enforcement hasn’t come over and shut it down.
Then again, a crook like Bobby, he would find his way out and try to pay off any fines or fight them. I have no room to talk, the club may look pure, innocent on the outside, but we all fight our own demons.
We tug on the door, but the storefront appears to be locked. I’m half tempted to bust the door open itself, forcing our own entry.
Leave no evidence, we have to be careful and calculated or it might lead back to us.
I signal for the men to follow along back behind the main building, watching for any movement within the store. He had to have known we were coming. He may have popped his head out into the light, but we know how to find people.
Without a trace, we ease to the back, knowing the structure of this place, there is always the back alley way. Joaquin on my left and Greer on the opposite side of me. We lean back against the building, being cautious of any blow back. I slowly jiggle the knob.
Dumbass didn’t lock the backdoor. I slowly turn the knob and edge the door open, counting down until we bust through. I see Greer reaching over, hand at the ready for his gun, Joaquin already ready for action.
3, 2, 1.
I yank the door open, with my gun unholstered, We move in shealthy, examining every inch of the back entrance. The back room of the store, everything spreads out. Boxes piled up against the wall, glass cases emptied. Storage, mainly storage. Nothing that screams danger or out of place.
“Keola, you might wanna see this,” Greer calls from behind me. I turn to see him rummaging through the cardboard boxes. He had holstered his weapon, picking up a confided bag of substance.
That little shit.
“Looks like someone found a new business dealing,” Joaquin remarks. He pauses and the look on his face is frightening, “Wait. hold on.”
I see the panic because it’s the same panic I have right now. “We need to see those logs.”
