Page 67 of Beyond the Badge: Crew

“The meth I bought last night.”

Within two strides he had his own coffee placed on the counter and was pulling the cup from her fingers. He popped off the plastic lid and stared down into the empty disposable cup.

No, not empty. At the bottom was a baggy full of white powder.

He glanced up. “Crystal?”

“I didn’t test it, but I’d assume so.”

“I’ll get it tested, weighed and documented.” He raised the open cup. “Is this how they gave it to you?”

“Yep, slid it right across the bar like that. Apparently if you order one of their specialty drinks, that’s what you get.” She air-quoted the wordspecialty. “I had to smuggle it out of the bar and hide it in the car before going back in to work the floor the rest of the night. I figured too many of those bikers in there would know what carrying around a disposable coffee cup meant since Hawg Wild isn’t a Starbucks and it would put a target on my back.”

Good thinking, but it also highlighted the fact that Hawg Wild was dangerous.

“Those assholes are dealing right out in the open,” he murmured and shook his head.

“In that crowd? Do you think anyone in there gives a shit? You could probably drop a brick of coke on the bar and no one would blink an eye. Though, they might line up with rolled dollar bills.”

She was probably right. “Did you have to ask for meth or did they just assume?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “I thought that’s what they’re dealing?”

“That’s their main moneymaker, but they also sell pot.”

“Ah. That’s right, I did see that mentioned in the dailies. At that bar, I’m sure pot’s a bigger seller than meth. Most of the upstanding, fine patrons look like they succumb to the munchies a lot.”

He glanced into the cup again. “Looks like a gram. What did they charge you?”

“Eighty.”

That was the same amount they were selling grams out of Pizza Town. Decker had gotten a list of prices while undercover there.

“The bartender named Hook told me one-fifty for what I assumed was an eight-ball.”

That sounded about right. “And where’s my change?”

“Yours or the feds?”

He sighed. “The feds. They do like to keep track of their money.” Every damn dollar needed to be tracked and documented. For good reason.

“I have it for you. Don’t worry, Grandpa.”

“Stop it. My kids aren’t even old enough to make me a grandfather yet.”

Her mouth gaped. “You have kids? Will you need a walker by the time they graduate?”

He sighed again. If he didn’t react to her smart-ass comments, maybe they would stop. He pushed on. “What job did they offer you?”

“Well, they didn’t quite offer it to me, I kind of elbowed my way in.”

“Doing what?”

“I’ll be working behind the bar and also serving the customers on the floor.”

“On the books?” If so, he would have to quickly get her documentation.Ifhe allowed her to go back. Which he wasn’t, so the point was moot.

“No, off them. I bet they cook the books.” She made a face. “Actually… I only convinced them to let me work for tips.”

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