Page 73 of Sling’s Awakening

“How are we doing this?” Bomber asks once we kill our engines. “Just storming in and beating the shit out of him?”

I shrug. “I figure we’d knock first, but you get the gist.”

Mountain thinks it over. “Let’s fucking rock ‘n’ roll,” he says as he starts walking toward the house.

We parked a few houses down from his, so it didn’t take long to walk. As we walk up the driveway, I do a quick scan of the house for cameras, but don’t see any. He doesn’t even have a doorbell camera.

I signal to Mountain and Bomber to head around the back.

He doesn’t live in a hoity-toity fucking neighborhood where some uppity bitch would call the cops on us just for being there, but I also don’t need wandering eyes watching our every move.

Every neighborhood has someone who thinks they’re the goddamn neighborhood watch when in reality they need to mind their own fucking business.

The back porch is a small concrete slab in front of a single back door. I open up the storm door and rap my knuckles against the back door. Bomber and Mountain are standing out of sight in case he tries to look through the window.

We’re coming in regardless, but I’d rather not have to bust this bitch in.

I look around his yard.

It looks like shit. The grass is past my ankles.

“You want to mow his lawn too?” I ask Mountain with a smirk on my face.

“Man, fuck you,” Mountain glares at me before looking around the small yard. “This place is a shithole.”

“Where the fuck is this guy?” Bomber asks, growing impatient.

I step up onto the concrete slab again, knocking harder. I press my ear to the door, trying to listen for any noise coming from inside.

Nothing.

“Alright, fuck this. I’m done waiting around,” I tell Mountain and Bomber as I reach into my back pocket and pull out my lock kit.

I try the handle just to be sure.

Locked.

Crouching down, I pick the lock with ease. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder and grin at Mountain and Bomber.

That sweet sound never gets old.

Mountain quickly rubs his hands together with a grin on his face. “I feel like Santa just came early.”

Bomber looks at him as if he’s an idiot. “I swear I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“Hello,” I call out as I step inside. “Anyone home?”

No answer.

I walk further into the house with Mountain and Bomber following close behind. The wooden floorboards creak with every step. I bring my finger to my mouth, signaling for them to be quiet as I strain my ears to listen.

Water is running from upstairs.

I move toward the stairs, listening to the water pelt down in waves.

He’s in the shower.

“Let’s make ourselves at home, boys.” I motion to his couch.