Chapter Eighteen

Cash

T rick: Okay we need to move quickly. We don’t want him leaving.

Jensen: How are we going to time that? It’s not like you can shout a countdown.

I watch Trick roll his eyes at Jensen’s reply and find myself amused despite the situation.

Trick: It’s a small cabin. Is there even a back door?

Jensen: No

Trick: Come here.

I have to contain my laughter, so I don’t give away that we are out here, but really, that whole conversation was ridiculous and unnecessary. It also wasted a lot of time that we don’t really have. I put my phone away and once again peek over the top of the sill so that I can see inside. Our target is exactly where he was the last time I looked at him, and he is counting money. I have to think that he most likely had this planned for a very long time. He can’t be that smart though, because even if the drug dealers were happy to have his partner as payment, it would have been a temporary fix, and looking at all of the shit he has managed to accumulate, she wouldn’t have been enough to pay for what he owes, which means that they would have come looking for the child and then most likely killed our target anyway.

Drug dealers aren’t exactly forgiving people, especially when they have had so much stolen from them.

It takes hardly any time at all for the others to come around this side of the house, and Trick takes the lead as he kicks the door in. The guy jumps to his feet, looking completely panicked as his head swivels. He looks around the room to try and find an escape route.

We are good at what we do though, and in the time it has taken us to come through the door, we have him completely surrounded, all possible exits are blocked by one of us.

We have our guns pointed at him, and although he is armed with his own gun, he wisely chooses not to reach for it. I wouldn’t either if I were in his position; one gun against five isn’t good odds.

We don’t bother saying anything as Rafe grabs him and a chair, and we cable-tie his hands and legs to it. He won’t be going anywhere unless we decide that he can.

We need confirmation that he is, in fact, stealing from the dealers and that I was right in my assumptions earlier.

“Don’t hurt me,” he immediately grovels. “I can cut you in on this, they have no idea that I am the one that is stealing from them.”

Bingo.

That was surprisingly easy.

Jensen shakes his head, “You dumb fuck.”

“Who are you stealing from?” Trick demands.

The guy’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head as he realizes that he fucked up by admitting that he was stealing from someone else.

“That means we get to do it the fun way,” I smirk. Not that he can see because, like the others, we are all wearing balaclavas.

I don’t give him a chance to say anything else as my fist connects with his nose and the satisfying sound of the crunch sounds throughout the room.

The guy yells in pain.

“Care to share now?” Trick asks again, his arms crossed over his chest.

The guy just shakes his head again.

This time, Jensen hits him, and not just once.

Bouncing on his toes he says, “I can go on all night man, this is fun.”

The guy spits a mouth full of blood out to the side, looking up at Jensen with fear in his eyes and realizing that Jensen is being honest; he really is quite happy to beat the shit out of him for as long as it takes.

“Fine,” the guy says just as Jensen pulls back his fist to strike him again.

“Well?” Trick asks when the guy just sits and stares at us and doesn’t tell us anything.

“Jimmy Landry,” he finally says.

“See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Trick goads.

The guy just glares, as well as he can through two black eyes anyway.

Trick gestures to the door with his head, and all of us follow him apart from Rafe and Riot, who stay and guard the guy in case he mistakenly thinks that he can escape or something else as equally ridiculous.

We step outside and start speaking quietly so that the guy inside can’t hear us.

“We now have that name of the dealer that he’s ripped off and confirmation that he has been stealing from him,” Trick starts. “So, how do we make that work in our favor?”

“Why don’t we call the dealer explain the situation, tell them that we can return the stolen drugs, money, and give them the guy that stole from them. We can also mention that we know that there was going to be a deal to settle his debts, as he will have settled them in full, and they will have him in custody, then the previous agreement is void.” I suggest.

“All they really care about is getting their drugs, money, and the person that fucked them over. We will be handing them that, and we have a plan to get the kid and his mother out of the situation completely, so it is another layer of protection for them,” Jensen adds.

“Agreed. Alright, let’s hope the fucker has this Jimmy guy in his phone contacts and that he’s not going to make things even more complicated than they already are.” Trick replies. “We can get the kid and his mom out, but we don’t have the resources to be able to deal with him, if he decides to go after them.”

“Damn, I wish Atlas was around still; he could have just made a phone call, and boom, it would have all been sorted,” Jensen comments.

“Yeah. Alright, let's head back in,” Trick agrees.

“Hey, if he doesn’t give us his phone, I’ll get to hit him more,” Jensen adds with a giant grin as we head back in through the door.

The guy watches us warily, obviously confused but also now in a lot of pain, which makes me happy, especially since I know that he beats his partner and her kid. There is absolutely no excuse for that, ever.

“We need your phone,” Trick demands.

Surprisingly, the guy nods over to the table where he was sitting when we first came in and to where his phone is still sitting. Either he knows that he is at a serious disadvantage and that we are more than happy to hurt him to get what we want, or he is really stupid and he doesn’t realize why we want the phone and what we are going to do with it.

Trick strides over to the table, picking up the phone and then tutting, “You don’t have it password protected? That is not smart.”

He doesn’t seem to acknowledge Trick’s words at all but then his face is so swollen that he could be glaring at us and now the swelling has gotten worse we can’t tell. I don’t really care either way if I’m honest.

Trick glances at us all with triumphant in his eyes and I am assuming that it is because he has found the number in the phone.

Trick

“D o you have my money?” is the first thing that Jimmy says, and I grin.

“I have more than just your money,” I reply.

There is a beat of silence, and then he replies, “You aren’t that weasel.”

“No, I’m not,” I reply and then launch straight into telling him what the situation is. The last thing I want is to end up starting this phone call on the wrong foot, “we have the weasel, as you called him; he has been stealing your drugs and your money. I am willing to give you the location of all three.”

Jimmy’s voice is full of anger as he replies, but fortunately it’s not anger at us, “I’m listening, what do you want?”

“You can’t do this!” our target yells in the background before I can answer Jimmy.

“There you go, proof that we have him, although you didn’t ask for it,” I say.

“Fuck,” the guy curses again.

“He’s not very bright this one is he,” I add.

Jimmy actually chuckles, “No, he is not. Now, what would you like in exchange for this information?”