Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Lifting a cup of coffee to his lips as he settles in to wait for the light to change, John says, “Ya know, maybe we could talk the boss man into moving this whole enterprise of ours down south. Warm weather, sandy beaches, year-long bike weather…”
Getting ready to take a drink from his thermos of coffee, Simon says, “And what? Have sand fucking crawling up my ass and dirtying my clothes?”
My attention is dragged away from whatever those two are arguing about now by a shitty Honda that pulls up real damn close to my side of the truck. Looking through their fucked-up, tinted windows, I can see four guys sitting inside, moving about. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I can’t quite place what’s off about them until I notice all four of them are wearing ski masks.
Ski masks inside of their car.
Elbowing James as subtly as I can, I focus my attention directly ahead.
“My side, black Honda,” I say out of the corner of my mouth so that everyone can hear me.
James sits a little straighter as he takes a small peek around me. After a brief look, he says, “On their way to do no good.”
None of us make a move, but it’s clear the fuckers beside us are up to something. I don’t think it’s us though. Probably want to rob a gas station or something.
“When does the law firm close today?” I ask Simon.
“Six, but they’ll all be staying over until we are through with our investigation,” he answers quietly.
“Dude, it’s only four,” John grumbles.
“We do have some time to kill,” James says.
After a very long pause, Simon says, “I’d hate to arrive unfashionably early.”
Holy fuck, he just made a joke.
I grin. “Looks like we get to have some fun before the party then.”
“I say gas station,” James says quickly. “Fifty bucks.”
“Mom and pop diner,” John counters.
“God, I want it to be a bank,” I say with a laugh.
“With that car? I’m going with James and saying a gas station,” Simon says.
Light turning green, the Honda moves a bit faster than us to go through the empty intersection. I was right, though. With the shitty streets and how bad the weather is, they’re on their way to something and not running from it.
It’s too easy to wreck or get caught beforehand, they’re being careful with the way they drive.
Johnathan smoothly pulls over behind the Honda and eases back off the speed enough that the car gets a comfortable lead on us.
“Anyone thinking drug deal?” James asks.
“Wouldn’t have the masks on right now if it was that,” I say. “Although, wearing the masks right now before they even get to the place? Yeah, I wouldn’t count anything out.”
The ride goes quiet for a bit as we follow behind the guys ahead of us. Well, quiet except for the sounds of guns being checked and loaded.
“Well a strip-mall wasn’t on our list,” I say with a sigh.
“Especially not this one,” James laughs loudly with glee. “Maybe we can make a pitstop at…”
“I’ll kill every single one of them if they even try it…” Simon hisses.
“Dude,” I start to laugh with James. “No one’s stupid enough to try it.”
“Wanna bet?” John asks as we pull into the parking lot behind the Honda and head straight to the Tiger’s Lounge.
“Let’s see how this plays out for a moment. We can’t go guns blazing in there,” I say with a wink to James.
“Oh, I’ll be blazing something alright,” James loudly whispers to me.
Parking far away from the Tiger’s Lounge, we watch as the dumbasses do some kind of powwow in the car before they all open their doors. I don’t see any big weapons or anything, but I’m betting they’re packing beneath their overlarge clothing.
Large red sleep caps, big red overcoats, and red fucking pants. They’re even wearing black fucking boots.
“Are they?” Simon tries to talk, but for once he’s absolutely speechless.
I try to say something but I just can’t get past what I’m seeing.
Four men dressed as Santa with ski-masks and big fuzzy white beards.
Four Santa’s going into a strip club, and from the way they’re walking, they’re definitely packing.
“We own this club, you know,” I say when the assholes finally all make it through the front door.
“I know,” Simon hisses.
Poor guy hates strip clubs. His germaphobia must be going into overdrive. I can see a trickle of sweat beading down the back of his neck.
“Let’s move,” I snap at the guys then push my door open.
I wish I had something stronger than the two Glocks I’m carrying, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Pulling the one from the holster under my armpit, I move up beside Simon as he pulls his from his under arm holster.
Nodding to him, I say, “You’re on my left, John on the right. James, you pull the rear. See if you can disable the car before we go in.”