Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
I silence my phone and shove it back into my pocket, leaning up against a tree. I watch the warehouses for fifteen minutes, scanning for any signs of life, any signs of activity, but they're completely silent. If anyone is here, they aren't moving. I double-check my weapon, making sure it's readily accessible and ready to go, and then slip through the trees, keeping to the shadows as I approach the warehouses from the back.
The first is vacant, with nothing more than pools of water on the cracked floors and moss and ivy growing up the walls. But the second is far more habitable. Someone has cleared it out and done rough repairs to the interior. It's functional…or at least somewhat functional. Crates are stacked along the back wall.
"That's not suspicious at all," I mutter, sweeping my light across the stack. I'm guessing they're loaded with whatever drugs the Carmonas shipped in to pass along to their dealers. Stupid fuckers.
We may be criminals, but we aren't dealers. It's the biggest reason the cartels hate us. They try to deal in our territory, and we shut them down every time. Nothing pisses them off more than fucking with their coin.
Too bad for them. They can peddle their shit somewhere else. They aren't peddling it in Arakas' territory. And Silver Spoon Falls, Texas belongs to us. So does most of Houston, and a big chunk of Austin.
I stride across the warehouse to check out their supply. Halfway there, a beam of light cuts through the windows, followed by the sound of gravel popping beneath tires.
Fuck. Company.
I jog to the window, keeping low to the ground, and glance out. A black Escalade rolls to a stop outside of the bay doors.
"There you are," someone growls from behind me. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago."
I whirl around, my hand on my gun, to find a cartel member watching me from the same door I entered not even ten minutes ago. He can’t be much older than me, but the scar along the side of his face and the rifle hooked over his arm ages him far beyond his years.
"Lopez said you'd be here by midnight. You get lost or something?" he asks, head cocked to the side.
"Something like that," I mutter. Clearly, he doesn't recognize me. I'm not about to fill him in on who I am, either. If I can get out of here without resorting to a gunfight, it'd make my life easier considering I know fuck all about this property or how many others are here.
"Figured. This place is a bitch to find if you've never been out here. I told Lopez he needs to draw fuckin' maps for the crew coming in from Houston, but he didn't listen."
Guess I'm supposed to be one of those who just got in from Houston.
"We've got company," I say before he can ask me for any information I can't verify.
"Shit," he groans. "I fuckin' hate this chick, man. She's a stone-cold bitch."
I snort, which he takes for agreement.
"Did Lopez fill you in?"
"Nope. He told me to be here, so I'm here." I shrug, easing my hand away from my gun. I'm guessing Lopez is his boss. "I don't get paid to ask questions. He does. I get paid to jump."
Scar laughs. "Shit, you ain't lyin'. She has a job for us. Her kid. Says we owe her for helping us move all this shit." He jerks his head toward the stack of crates. "Lopez can't meet her, so it's on us."
"Yay for us," I mutter dryly.
Scar chuckles. "Let's go see what the fuck she wants so we can get the fuck outta here," he says.
"Sounds good to me," I say, striding toward him. The last thing I need to do is go meet whoever the fuck this chick is, but I'm going anyway. I want to know who she is, how she's connected to the Carmonas, and what she wants these fuckers to do to her kid. They run drugs and women…not exactly the kind of men anyone should want around their kids.
I follow Scar out the back door, circling around the warehouse to the loading bay. I keep my eyes peeled, hoping like hell whoever was supposed to show up doesn't decide to put in an appearance. There will be no explaining my way out of this. It'll be a gunfight all the way.
As we approach the Escalade, the driver's window rolls down. No one gets out, earning a grunt from Scar.
"Where's Lopez?" a woman demands.
"He couldn't meet on short notice," Scar says. "He sent me and Dom."
Guess I'm Dom.
"Well," the woman huffs, thrusting her face out the window. Her icy blue eyes skate down my body, leaving me unsettled. Scar wasn't lying. This chick is stone-cold. She's beautiful in the same way ice sculptures are beautiful. Pretty to look at but completely devoid of anything resembling a heart. I don't know who she is, but she's dangerous.