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Warren nodded in agreement.
“Let her sell the shitty art. At least she will get something after the Cubans recoup what he skimmed.”
“Food or sleep?” Warren asked.
“Food,” Brooks answered. “I’m starving. Let’s hit that little sandwich shop down by the beach. I don’t know what they put in the food there, but I dream about it.”
“Probably don’t want to know,” Warren chuckled as he hoisted himself over the wall. Dropping down to the other side, he brushed the dirt off his shirt and strolled down the street as if nothing ever happened.
Anyone familiar with the place knew what went on inside those walls was not exactly on the legal side of the law. He and Brooks were dressed to play the part. No one would question them wearing expensive dark-colored clothes. Everyone in this neighborhood wore expensive clothes. Most wore black. Black was universally the best when things got messy.
The residents were heads down, don’t say a word kind of people. Most wouldn’t call the police if they heard a shot, but it was best not to go that route unless it was necessary. This was the ideal place to carry out their business. However, there was always that one person that was a pain in the ass. Warren didn’t have time to deal with that today. Dark and silent was the way to go.
They were almost back to the car when his phone buzzed.
“Hold up,” Warren said, pulling his phone out. His heart stopped when he saw who was calling. “What happened?” He demanded. He was silent as he listened to the details. “Injuries?” Warren’s sigh of relief was short-lived. “He is there, and he has inside help. We will be there tonight.”
“Change of plans,” Brooks guessed. “I was looking forward to making this little bitch squeal. Guess there is always next time.”
“We do it now.”
Warren clicked the fob, and the car started. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he sat for a minute to get his composure. He hadn’t botched a job in twenty years and wasn’t about to let this one get away. It was the last one before he got his wife back.
He needed the one thing that calmed him. Warren brought up the feed. Watching Rose, he saw for himself that she was okay. Relief allowed him to get his head in the game. He watched her sitting on the couch beside Franny. She was alive and shooting her beautiful fire at some unfortunate soul. His thumb stroked the screen. His world narrowed, and his focus cleared. One job stood between them. It was time to get this job done and get back to his wife. Things were going to change.
“We aren’t going through the side door anymore, are we?”
“Nope.”
“How you wanna play this?”
A smile lit Warren’s face like a kid on Christmas morning when a brown delivery truck rumbled past them. The car’s tires protested as he hit the gas and surged around the truck. The guy behind the wheel was smart enough to recognize the neighborhood. The driver stopped in the middle of the street and waited for Warren to approach the truck.
“Listen buddy, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to do my job and collect my check so I can go home and see my girl for a few hours before I go to work at my other job.”
“What do you do?” Warren asked, taken aback. The kid looked to be barely twenty. Curiosity got the better of him. It wasn’t often you found a young person working so many hours. At this age, most are in college studying and partying.
“I work at the docks running a forklift,” the delivery guy replied cautiously. “I picked up this daytime gig delivering packages because I needed the extra money.”
Warren smiled. He had an in.
“How about we make a deal? I need to borrow your truck for a few minutes.”
“You want the truck?”
“Just for a few minutes. I’m not after the contents, just the truck.”
“And I get it back? Without a scratch on it. I can’t get fired.”
Warren nodded. He took out his wallet and pulled out a stack of bills. Without bothering to count it, he handed it to the driver. “For your inconvenience.”
He waited while the driver considered it. The man stared at the money in Warren’s outstretched hand.
“Not enough?”
“I, um, well, my girl. Um, yeah,” he finally nodded, clearing his throat. “This will go a long way to getting my girl a nice ring. If there is any leftover, I can put it toward a down payment on a nicer place.”
“Fifteen minutes. Twenty tops,” Warren assured him.
