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The storm that’s rolling through has cooled things off a bit, but it’s still hot, sitting here in a vehicle that’s not running.
“How’d you get Payton to sleep with you?” I ask, not caring how stupid it sounds.
He goes back to drumming his fucking fingers on my dashboard, probably leaving his grubby fingerprints behind. “Well, for starters, I didn’t kidnap her.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” he replies, and I swear I hear the unsaiddumbassat the end of his sentence.
We stare out the windshield. Night isn’t quite upon us, but the skies are made darker with storm clouds, and our view of the warehouse is obstructed by raindrops clinging to the glass.
For the past several months we’ve been trying to sniff out the prick who’s been trying to sell women inside our territory, and today of all days, one of our foot soldiers intercepted a piece of information tipping us off about a sale.
That tip led us here and if…
Headlights cut through the rain, as a semi-truck rolls into the abandoned parking lot.
They’re here.
The truck pulls to a stop near the central warehouse, just like we knew it would.
“So, what do I do?” I know I shouldn’t be thinking of getting laid right now, but Savannah’s soft little body has been tempting me for days. And I’m ready to fucking snap.
“You could try being nice to her.”
“I am nice to her.”
“Brother,” him calling mebrothermeans I already know I won’t like what he’s about to say. “You had her bodily pinned her to a couch while you made me marry her to you against her will. I don’t think that’s exactlynice.”
“I didn’t make you do shit.” It’s really the only retort I have to that. Because getting lectured aboutbeing nicefrom Satan himself is about as low as a man can get.
Nero leans forward, trying to get a better view. “Or you can just tell her that you’re married now and it’s time.” He shrugs a shoulder. “What do I know?”
Him and Payton are the happiest couple I know, but they’re also both completely insane about each other, so maybe I shouldn’t be listening to his advice.
Three blacked out vans pull into the massive parking lot from the other side, lights off, as they park in a row behind the semi.
And just like that, the deal is underway.
We watch the drivers from both groups get out and greet each other, before they walk into the warehouse through an open door.
Even without seeing inside the building, we know what they’re doing. Exchanging money going over the plan for which girls go into which vans.
The men are always different, but the steps are always the same. And we’ll keep doing this until we’re able to cut it off at the source.
“Your guy is coming, right?” I ask, knowing that time is running out. Because as soon as the men come back out, it’s gonna get a lot trickier and a lot more dangerous for the captives.
“He’s a Fed, but I trust him.” Just as Nero finishes his sentence, a swarm of men in black, crouched low, run from behind a building on the left across the expanse of cracked concrete to the warehouse that the men just entered.
I’ve never questioned how Nero knows his man in the FBI, just that there’s something about always owing each other a favor. But I’m grateful for his set up now, more than ever. Because we’ve broken up these deals on our own before, and trying to figure out what to do with a bunch of terrified humans is not fun.
The shitheads in the warehouse are outnumbered four to one, but I’m not surprised to hear gunfire. “Idiots.”
“They’ll keep one alive,” Nero sits back in his seat, signaling he’s ready to go.
I’m reaching for the ignition to start my vehicle, when a side door flies open and one of the van drivers darts out. “Goddammit.”
We both watch as the man starts to run away from us, and from the gunfight in the warehouse.
