“Yeah. Someone who works here gave us the heads up.” Not the whole truth, and Lucky wouldn’t bring up the whole human trafficking thing yet, but when this place went down, he’d change lives—some for the better, some for worse.
Bo stayed silent for way too long. Finally, he nodded. “How much time before shift change for the guards?”
“An hour.”
Bo waved a hand toward the door. “Lead on.”
“Do what?” What the fuck? Bo wasn’t going to stop them?
“You don’t think I’m letting the two of you go in there alone while I stand out here with my thumb up my ass, do you?”
Lucky didn’t have time to argue. Holding his flashlight in his teeth, he checked the lock on the front door. Older than dirt. Ten seconds later he opened the door, taking point. Bo followed him in. Johnson brought up the rear.
There wasn’t time to get Bo up to speed. They’d have to treat him as weakest link on this mission. The reek of chemicals and cherry flavoring smacked him like a hand to the face the moment he stepped inside the building. Oh, yeah. Drugs definitely stored here.
The first office, a reception area at one time, appeared fallen on hard times, with papers strewn across the floor and an overturned file cabinet against one wall.
Spray painted graffiti covered the walls. The building must’ve been empty for a while before the current operation began. None of the offices showed signs of recent use, layers of dust coating all flat surfaces. The closer they came to the warehouse portion of the building, the stronger the smell.
Lucky shone his light along the walls and doorways.
No wires, no indication of alarms. At the end of the hallway he paused, motioning Johnson to take the other side of the door.
They flattened themselves against the wall, pointing their guns. Bo hid in a doorway a few yards down.
Lucky turned the doorknob, counted to three, and flung the door open. Nothing. He darted through the opening, crisscrossing with Johnson.
Still nothing. Keeping his beam pointed downward to avoid notice by the guards outside, Lucky slipped farther into the room.
Bo tapped his shoulder and he turned, coming face to face with a handful of bottles, the type used by pharmacies for pills.
He nodded, straining his ears for footsteps, tracking Johnson’s progress across the floor. Easing farther inside, he swept his beam right and left. Unlike the offices, the warehouse appeared fairly clean, though not nearly clean enough to house pill bottles intended for pharmaceuticals.
A shiny door beckoned, its newness out of place in the shabby building. Pulleys held the door in place, wires leading to a far too simple security system. Eight seconds to bypass the alarm, another ten to slide the door open, and…
Fuck.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Stainless steel, as far as the eye could see. Grinders, hoppers, dryers, pill presses. Drums of raw materials. Lucky waited until Bo and Johnson came in and shut the door. No windows meant the free use of flashlights in here.
But not for fucking long. No dust masks or ventilators in sight. Not only were “the bosses” likely storing poison in this room, the workers risked exposure. He slipped on a pair of gloves and pulled out a sample bag and swab. He swabbed residue off the equipment and stored his findings in the bag.
Johnson held up her own bag of empty capsules.
Lucky used the camera he’d taken from surveillance to snap pictures of the equipment. Nothing appeared new or state of the art, and the need for lots of hands grew apparent the more he observed.
He crossed the cramped space to the far wall, stacked floor to ceiling with boxes. Opening one at random, he extracted a bottle of pills. Unlabeled. Another container held more pills, these more familiar.
He held one up to the light. Fuck. Squirming wrigglies twisted to life in his stomach. These looked like the same damned pills Ty brought home. If he’d known they came from here he’d have smacked them from Ty’s hand immediately. He’d have to take the kid to a doctor, make sure he’d not been poisoned by this shit.
He tamped down his anger. Time enough to open a can of whoop-ass when he found the people responsible.
He extracted bottles from a few more boxes, arranging the cartons so those he tampered with were on the bottom.
They’d gathered enough evidence to warrant a raid. Time to go.
But wait? Where was Bo?
