road is made out of some sort of orange clay that’s designed to help bad guys escape. The Federales appear on the left hand side, but you don’t stop when you see the Mexican Police. You go faster. They’re shadier than a palm tree in Florida. I don’t want to get into a gunfight in broad daylight with them. I have other things to worry about.
My tires skid around a corner and I see the white truck disappear down a small alleyway. Fuck. I give orders to the men behind me. Horse turns around to try to corner him on the opposite side and I keep on his tail. A bead of sweat rolls down my face. I crank up the A/C without taking my eyes off the road. The defensive driving courses the Navy forced me to participate in help me during times such as this. They were fun, but I never found them to be practical. Ironic.
A shrill sound ricochets the cab of the truck—my Bluetooth ringing. My satellite phone is only used for work, so Molly is the only person who has that number. Fumbling with the steering wheel, I hit the ‘accept’ button.
“What?” I roar.
Molly roars back, “She’s more persistent than a yeast infection. That’s what!”
I pause. Get to the point, Molly, I think. Sometimes women are impossible to deal with. With a man you get to the meat of the story in two seconds flat. I can appreciate feminine wiles and the fact they’re more detail-oriented, but Molly knows I’m busy right now. Yanking the wheel a sharp turn to the right, I head down the alley. One of my side mirrors scrapes on the dirty cement wall. It doesn’t make me mad because I’ll end up buying these damn vehicles anyways. It enrages me that I didn’t have the foresight to rent smaller trucks. Ones that fit down devil alleyways with room to spare. Several men jump back and press themselves against the dirty buildings as I speed after my target.
“I’m going to patch Lainey through. She won’t leave me alone.” I should be irritated with Molly for not following protocol, but the sadistic part of me wants to talk to Lainey no matter the circumstances. Will she be in a playful mood? A happy one? Will she be distraught because she’s dealing with Dax again? Anticipation of any kind is my favorite.
I hit a huge pothole filled with black water and it splashes the side of my truck, leaving a grimy film on my window. “Fine! I don’t need you to do your job anyways,” I growl, more irritated at the dirty window than with Molly.
“Fire me then,” she says, static marring her cunning words.
I groan. I’d never fire her. “Patch her through already.”
She laughs. “You’re so predictable.”
“Like a tiger,” I reply. More sweat rolls down my face. Is the A/C even working in this fucking tank? The white truck is getting closer. He’s being pinned. I see Horse in the distance blocking the only exit.
A few annoying beeps sound through the Bluetooth speakers and then I hear her. “You! If you just gave me this fucking number, I wouldn’t have to annoy your assistant!” And then I’d never get any work finished properly.
“Hi, you,” I mumble. “I’m in the middle of a job. She’s only supposed to call me in emergencies. Which limb are you missing?”
Swerving left and then right helps me avoid a mangy dog with a death wish. “Your dick!” Lainey quips. I shake my head, but wouldn’t you know I’m grinning like a mad man? “When are you getting home? I miss you.” She’s acting like I’m at my nine to five job and she wants to know what time I’ll be home for dinner. It’s refreshing because I don’t have to lie to her about what I do. It’s also extremely fucked up because who would accept this life and not bat an eye?
“My dick is missing you too, baby girl. I miss you more, though. I’ll be back in NYC soon. You have business there next week?” I have to slow down. Too many people are in front of me, flooding out from rusty steel doors on both sides of the alley. My heart rate accelerates. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m thinking about my dick and Lainey or if it’s my fight of flight kicking in. That’s how twisted I am. Van is behind me in his Jeep. I radio him to let him know