Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Core’s taking you,” I said. “And he’s bringing you back, so make sure you stick tight to him tonight. Don’t leave with anyone else, okay?”
Raven let out a relieved breath, and then started moving through the room again.
“I found it!” Nathan shrieked, causing a smile to burst out over my face.
“Fuck me!” Goody, my informant who was currently making me late, gasped as he yanked the door to my office open and started around the corner of the filing cabinets. “I’m about to die!”
“I gotta go, baby,” I said, well used to the tactics that Goody used to gain attention. “I’ll be a little late for his game, but hopefully not much.”
“Okay,” she hesitated. “I love you.”
Joy surged through me, and I started to say something more when Goody started to reach for me.
“I love you too, baby girl.”
I hung up and shoved my phone into my pocket, glaring at the man that’d practically crawled over the top of my desk to get to my hand.
“What the fuck do you want?” I asked. “Get off me and stop touching me with those disgusting fingers.”
Goody bared his teeth, and I had to stifle the urge to grimace.
Goody had disgusting teeth.
I doubted he’d seen the inside of a dentist’s office in ten years, if not more.
“You have to help me,” he said. “Why weren’t you at our usual meeting spot?”
I growled in frustration.
“Because you decided to fuck me over and be late yourself,” I said. “And it’s not that much of a difference. You walked through my backdoor instead of meeting me at the backdoor. There’s little difference in those two distances.”
Goody’s face started to twitch, and I wondered when his last hit was.
I’d met him when he was trying to get clean off of meth, and had tried to get him on the straight and narrow by offering him some money to become an informant.
Turns out, he liked the money, and still informed, but he had no qualms about spending the money he got informing on his next fix.
“What’s that look on your face for?” he asked. “And did you see that man with the creepy eyes?”
I looked at him, then looked out the front window which wasn’t nearly as visible now with the filing cabinets moved from that space.
“What guy with the creepy eyes?” I asked him.
“He followed me,” he said.
“Followed you from where?” I persisted.
“From the river.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why are you being so dense?”
I refrained from beating him upside the head, but only because I knew if I touched his hair I wasn’t sure what would come out of it.
I suspected he had lice, and that would be one of the better things I might find in that mat of stuff he called hair.
“Goody,” I started. “How about you stay on topic here.”
“Fine,” he said. “I was at the diner parking lot where I was meeting a deal…umm, friend. And we were around the back of the diner next to where the dumpsters used to be when I heard a boat pull into the dock in front of us.”
The diner he was talking about was completely surrounded by water. The people that owned it hadn’t been able to get to it except by boat for over two weeks now, and it wasn’t looking good any time in the future, either, seeing as we were supposed to be hit with another six inches this weekend.
The diner used to be a pretty popular spot to meet and greet friends when it was open, but now that it was closed, it wasn’t useful.
The road leading to the diner wasn’t open either, for about a mile in fact.
“And?” I asked, eager to hurry this along.
“And I was curious, so I got a little bit closer and listened to what they were saying,” he continued.
I wanted to pull my hair out.
“And what were they saying, Goody?” I asked patiently.
“They were talking about some deal and shipment that was supposed to come through in the next couple of days. The only one there was the crazy eyed man and a Hispanic man I couldn’t see,” he explained.
“Then how do you know he’s Hispanic?”
“Because I could hear his accent, dude. He was clearly talking in Spanish,” Goody rolled his eyes.
I snorted.
“And they were talking about meeting there in two nights, trading something for something, and then parting ways,” Goody grinned, and my stomach did that churning shit again. “I got his license plate number.”
“His license plate number.”
I waited for him to change his story, but he stuck with it.
“Yes!”
“On a boat?” I asked with incredulity. “Goody, boats don’t have fuckin’ license plates!”
“Yes,” he said. “He had it in his wallet.”
I wanted to strangle him.
I’d seriously be doing the world a favor by doing it, too.
“License,” I explained to him, even if it was futile. “You saw his license.”