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I can’t help myself from looking at the clock again. I know the more I watch it, the slower time will go, but this last little bit always kills me. Today it feels even worse as I feel exhaustion creeping in.
I may love being on top, but it doesn’t come without problems and sacrifices—the most recent being regular sleep. I can’t remember the last time I got more than three or four hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Eleven forty-eight. Only twelve more minutes until we can get the hell out of here and head back to the house, which unfortunately happens to be an hour away. Still better than needing to sit for a few more hours, though.
“So, why do you think the boss man has us watching this dingy ass place if nothing’s even happening?” Zan asks as he readjusts his seat into a more upright position. Clearly, I’m not the only one ready to hit the road.
Spencer pulls his feet off the console and leans his head forward between the two front seats. “Who knows, man. I don’t pretend to understand a single thing that crazy fuck does, but clearly, it works for him. The man gets results, so who are we to question it?”
He’s not wrong. If he wants to have us watch this place fall to the ground, then so be it. He took the city by its balls in just a few short years, so clearly, there's a method to his madness, whether we see it or not.
My phone goes off, and I grab it from the cup holder, silencing my alarm. I always set one to let us know when it's time to go. That way, I can try and distract myself from looking at the clock every five minutes, not that it seemed to help me tonight.
“Time to head out.” I tell the guys, reaching for my buckle. Spencer sits back, ready to go as well.
“Now, who’s sick of waiting?” Zander asks me, causing me to stop mid-buckle and look at him in confusion. I honestly have no idea what he means.
“Ugh, Ricky, man… You need to get some more sleep.” He shakes his head and points to the clock on the dash. It reads eleven fifty-eight.
Shit!
If it’s not midnight yet, which means I just silenced something much more important than my alarm.
We each have a phone that we use for “work” only. Seeing as it’s pretty late and all our guys have their orders, which means anyone calling would have a damn good reason to be doing so.
I release my belt, and it flies back, smacking the window as it goes, but I don’t give a shit as I scoop up my phone again and unlock it. Sure as hell, I have a missed call, and the minute I read the name, I groan and let my head fall back against my seat.
I’m so dead.
“What’s up, Rick?” Spencer is once again sitting forward to see what’s going on.
“I thought my alarm was going off, but it was a call, and I fucking silenced it.” I tell them both. I don’t need to see them to know they’re both confused. We run most things, so a missed call isn’t a big deal, and usually, they would be right. It’s who called me that’s the problem here.
I pull up the contact and take a breath before explaining.
“It was Kratos.” I hit the call button and put it on speaker while I hear Zander whisper, “oh shit,” from beside me.
Oh, shit is right. Kratos is Froggie’s right hand, second in command, and he doesn’t fuck around. He’s also the one who gave us this recon mission straight from Froggie.
Kratos is as high up in the food chain as we have ever met. The only one above him is Froggie himself, but from what I know, nobody but Kratos deals directly with the boss. It gives him an urban legend, boogie man vibe, if I'm being honest, but it works.
Kratos can’t be much older than we are, but he’s hard as fuck, huge, and kills people like he was born to do it. I once watched him pull a man's eyeball from its socket with his bare hands during an interrogation. If that doesn't make someone scary, I don’t know what does.
I’ll be lucky if I get to keep my balls for slamming his call, regardless of whether it was an accident.
“Roderick.” His voice is flat, as it often is, but I can feel the question. His unspoken “what the fuck” makes me feel like a child who needs to explain. It’s ridiculous I’m far from a child, but I can’t help but explain anyway.
“Apologies, I mistook the call for my alarm.” He grunts but doesn’t say anything else. Somehow that doesn’t help to settle me.
“Regardless, you three will need to stay put a bit longer. Froggie’s heard there will be movement in the next hour or so.”
He doesn’t wait for us to respond before he continues.
“Do not be seen unless necessary, and kill anyone who tries to flee. I trust that you boys came prepared?” It’s a rhetorical question. He knows each of our cars has a stash. He helped us set them up, so they are hidden, but I answer him nonetheless.
“Of course.” I nod, as do Zander and Spencer though he can’t see us.
“Good. Froggie wants this done fast and correctly, which is why you three were sent. Don’t fuck this up, and the boss might even decide to thank you personally. I expect a report in the morning. Keep your eyes on the pigs too.”
