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No one else was in the office. Brian decided to get started on their backup plan of filtering through the hotel employees for any connection to their jumper. It was busy work and exactly what Brian needed to keep his mind occupied. He did his throat exercises and breathing techniques while he went through one employee profile after another. Clearing his throat, he started on the next rep of exercises. Flexing his neck and throat muscles. As usual, it was only another couple of minutes until his mind drifted to Sway and he wondered if he was having a better day after his cranky start. He checked his phone to see if he had any new messages, but Sway hadn’t sent another since the sweet one he’d sent when he’d woken up. It was a picture of him with a grumpy look on his face and bed-rumpled hair. He was still in bed but the alarm clock in the background read five-forty a.m. Sway’s text was simple and made Brian’s heart sing. ‘I sleep better in your bed.’
Brian lost himself again in the monotony of cross-referencing when his phone dinged with a text notification.
Duke: B. what’s your location?
Brian: Office.
His desk phone rang, five seconds later. Brian hit he speaker button and listened.
Duke’s deep voice blared through the device. “Brian, Quick and I are still in Buckhead. I just got a tip that JayBoy was seen going into his apartment building. I’m sick of helping this little shit and he keeps stiffing me. He swore the last time I bonded him out that he’d be the first one in the courtroom on his date.”
Brian groaned under his breath. James Boyd—better known on the streets as JayBoy—was a habitual drug offender. Never selling, only using. Duke had a soft spot for the young ones who had it rough, and fell victim to their environment. He’d help them if they got in a jam, but he wasn’t afraid to dish out some tough love either. JayBoy wasn’t a bad guy, he just had to learn how to leave that dope alone. When he was clean, he worked, he stayed out of mess. But, when he used, he started fucking up and that bothered Duke. The kid was only twenty-two, and none of them believed he belonged in jail. Oh, yeah. They were all very familiar with JayBoy and he’d been through these enough times to know Duke was sending Brian for him, eventually.
“If he’s home, you go there and put some fear in him, B. If he’s clean, then you tell him he better meet me in the office tomorrow and I’ll go down with him myself.” Duke paused and mumbled something; maybe talking to Quick. “But, if he’s using again. Take his ass in. He’ll detox the hard way this time.”
Brian was already printing off a copy of James Boyd’s revoked bond from the Sheriff’s database and standing to tuck a few pieces of hardware on him.
“Your brother and Dana are two blocks down, waiting on Marks to show up for work so we can wrap that up, too; so I want them to stay on their route. No need for them to be pulled away for a tip that may not be legit. If you need transport for Jay then ring Ford to come with the truck. Cool?”
Brian pushed a button once in acknowledgement and hit the speaker button, ending the call.
Atlanta had a lot of beautiful, affluent communities, but it also had a lot of bad ones, too. It was a general consensus that safety was north of South I-20. Brian was headed way past that and beyond. Clayton County was known drug and gang territory. One entered at their own risk because calling 911 didn’t ensure assistance. Brian squeezed his steering wheel as he turned onto Royston Street, easing his Mustang down the back lot of Central Park apartments. There wasn’t much activity for an early Monday afternoon. Shit didn’t pop off around there until after dusk but he stuck to a rule his team lived by: no time was a safe time. Brian parked his car out of view, next to a dumpster behind the large building. Each complex had ten apartments. Five on the top and five on the bottom. Jay’s was on the second floor right next to the stairwell. No one dared using the elevator.
Brian checked his surroundings as he walked towards the rear entrance. He felt those fine hairs on his nape stand up, making him peel his eyes left and right. He felt as if he was being watched. Jayboy couldn’t see him from his apartment because it faced the front. Something else. Brian yanked open the door and took one more look around before closing himself inside.
He took the stairs to the second floor, listening as he moved silently down the dim hall. Voices, televisions blaring and muted sounds filtered through the apartment doors as he did. When he got to number 204, he stopped and listened. The smell of pungent smoke wafted from under the door. Weed. Then slow footsteps. He knocked hard twice then placed his palm over the peephole.
