Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“At the warehouse,” the guy grumbled, head hanging.
“What warehouse?” August asked.
“The one on Fourth,” he said, making August’s head turn to me, silently asking if I knew what he was talking about.
I gave him a barely perceptible nod, and his attention went back to the kid.
“Word to the wise, kid,” August said, sighing a bit. “You’re not cut out for this lifestyle. Get out while you still can.”
And with that, he cocked back and pistol-whipped him hard enough to have him out cold before he even hit the ground.
“Lock him in the basement,” August demanded, tucking his gun away as the other two did the same, then came to fetch the guy under his arms, dragging him down the stairs, then rigging the door.
He would be able to get out eventually. But likely not quickly enough to thwart our plan to descend on the warehouse.
“Let’s go,” August said, leading us back outside. “What is this warehouse?” he asked when we were in the car, and I’d given Milo directions.
“It’s an old mini meat mart. Not a giant warehouse or anything. It’s been abandoned as long as I can remember.”
“Seems like someone has co-opted it for their drug business,” August said, reached over to give my thigh a squeeze.
I placed my hand over his, trying to silently convey that I wasn’t upset about what I’d witnessed.
I would do anything to get my friend and my father back. I probably would have done worse than hitting the guy twice just because my emotions made me volatile in this situation.
“Is there a way to get to it without parking in front of it?” Milo asked, glancing at me in the rearview.
“I, ah… yeah, I guess. You can park the next street over. There’s an old chainlink fence but it’s broken in a section. We can just walk right through.”
“About that,” August started.
“I’m going with you,” I snapped, glancing over at him, fire in my eyes. “If you try to make me stay, I’ll just follow you.”
To that, he sighed. “Stubborn ass,” he grumbled, but he seemed like he knew that was going to be my response.
“Nothing would keep you in the car if it was your father and friend in there,” I reminded him.
“It looks kind of dead,” Aurelio said.
“It’s pretty prime-time for the dealers to be out,” I said, knowing their schedule better than these guys did.
“Still, we’re likely to be outnumbered,” August said. “Gotta stay sharp.”
We moved as silently as possible through an alley between buildings, coming up to the aforementioned broken fence.
It didn’t escape me that everyone tensed by the moment.
August gave Milo and Aurelio a nod, and each took off in different directions. He reached for me, placing me behind him.
Then we moved forward.
To the back door.
We couldn’t speak, but I swore I could feel the mix of confusion and unease when the handle just… pushed inward without resistance.
Maybe they didn’t have to worry about security. And I imagined the dealers had to come and go often to get more supply and drop off money.
Still, my stomach twisted itself in a million little knots as August took a deep breath, then opened the door.
“Well well well… look who finally figured it out,” a voice called as soon as we moved into the big, open space.
One where my father was strung up with chains from his wrists, his toes barely touching the ground.
Beaten.
Bloodied.
With Uncle Stan at one side.
And Sheryl at the other.
Not chained.
Not harmed.
And wearing the most hollow-eyed, evil smile I’d ever seen…
CHAPTER NINETEEN
August
I was glad the second we were inside that I hadn’t decided that we all go in at once.
Sure, maybe they had cameras and would see Milo and Aurelio coming too, but if they didn’t, at least we had an element of surprise.
They were smart.
They would wait for the right opportunity to move in and help.
The space was long and mostly empty, save for some folding tables lined against the walls, piled high with cash and drugs.
But there was no one else around.
They were either out dealing like Traveler thought. Or Stan and Sheryl didn’t want witnesses to their torture and possible murder of the chief of police.
I heard Traveler’s sucked in breath, and couldn’t tell if it was because of her father’s state, or her friend’s betrayal.
I, for one, wasn’t exactly surprised by what we were looking at.
I couldn’t think of a single good reason for the woman’s bracelet to be at Stan’s place unless he was literally in bed with her.
I had no idea if Traveler’s insistence on her friend’s innocence and possible abduction was just because she wanted it to be true, or because she was too far removed from the criminal world to understand how shit worked.
Like how you didn’t take tokens home from people you kidnapped, leaving it carelessly on display in an otherwise meticulously organized apartment.