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“Shall we check out the crates,” I say.
“Yeah, let’s do that. I hope this time you have a better selection than the last,” Santana states.
Oh, I can’t wait to cut off this asshole’s life force, I think to myself as I let Sydney’s hand go, then walk Santana and his friend over to the first crate.
Batista opens it, then pulls out an M4 carbine assault rifle, then offers it to Santana as Sydney and Booker stand behind us.
“Oh, yeah I like this one,” he says, handling it, then passing it to Cameron. “I want at least twelve of those with twelve boxes of bullets included with the price.”
Ignoring him, I move to the next crate. After Batista removes the top, he pulls out an SA80 rifle.
“Now this is the shit that will lay a motherfucker down,” Santana exalts, snatching the rifle out of Batista’s hands. “Shit from Vivian, Louisiana to fucking Texarkana, I’m about to be the king of highway seventy-one and Interstate forty-nine. People thought the Morgan brother’s ran shit back in the day, but they’ve never ran across a motherfucker like me. It’s a good thing their old asses walked away when they did because I would have no problem sending them past their prime to glory. Shit, I might’ve been gone for a while but guess who’s going to become the new King of Louisiana?” He sweeps the gun from side to side as if he’s Tony Montana.
Looking over my shoulder to Sydney, I mouth, “The floor is all yours.”
Chapter 10
Sydney
When Dom mouthed, ‘The floor is all yours,’ he didn’t know what he just unleashed. It took everything inside of me to keep from attacking Santana as he spoke about my daddy and uncle. But now...he’s about to find out my meaning of sending those past their prime to glory.
Cutting my eyes to Booker whose face resembles an African warrior ready to go into battle, I tap his elbow. With a quick nod of my head, he knew what I was conveying to him. Santana was too busy tooting his own fucking horn that he didn’t notice what was happening behind him. I carefully dug into my purse and pulled out my 9mm while Booker pulled his Glock 20 from the inside of his shirt. Afterwards, I quietly placed my purse on top of a crate next to me.
“Yeah, this is really nice,” Santana says, turning the gun from side to side to see its details. “Shit, if the rest of your inventory looks anything like this, you gonna make a good ass profit today, DeLuca.”
Dom and Batista move to the side when Santana turns to give the gun back to Batista. He’s caught off guard to see Booker and me pointing our guns at him. Cameron goes for his weapon but realizes it’s not there. No doubt Dom’s men disarmed them before bringing them here. Cameron grabs a rifle from the crate. He and Santana’s stupid asses raise the rifles and aim them at us, forgetting they weren’t loaded.
“And what are you going to do with that?” I questioned.
“We’re going to kill all of you if you don’t lower your weapons,” Santana said back, then looked at Dom.
Dom smirks while showing his perfect white teeth. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Those guns are no use to you, they are not loaded.”
“Is that so?” Santana questions, then aims the rifle at Dom’s feet, then pulls the trigger.
The discharged bullet misses Dom by inches. Dom doesn’t flinch as he looks down to where the bullet hit. What the absolute fuck?
