Page 73 of Bazooka
Chapter 11
Options and the Lack of
Bazooka
“The fuck did I just walk into?” Jordan exclaimed, looking at me wide-eyed.
Yeah, about that. How the hell was I supposed to explain it to him when I couldn’t explain it to myself? The only thing I knew with absolute certainty was that I’d never been so horny in my life.
“It’s not important,” I said with a sigh. “Just drive.”
“Not important? Luz is my friend. He would never act this way unless something happened. Did you two get into a fight?”
“He did something he shouldn’t have done. It escalated. That’s all.”
That wasn’t all. The way I acted was unprofessional, to put it mildly, and probably enough to get me fired, if I were honest. Luz was under my protection. I had a moral and legal obligation toward him. And what did I do? What did I do?
Not only that. Luz was the person I’d been actively avoiding for months. I changed my phone number three times because of him. Whatever I did, I couldn’t get rid of him. I didn’t believe in destiny, but how else to explain that the two of us end up sharing a flat?
And then there was this attraction thing. I wouldn’t even call it an attraction. He was just there, with his blond locks and aquamarine eyes and outrageous things leaving his mouth. It was him, sexualizing things. Throwing himself at me. Touching me all the fucking time. Insinuating, provoking, teasing me. Flirting with me. Putting ideas in my head. No wonder I eventually snapped.
Yeah, he had a dick, but it was the least of my concerns. Even if the circumstances were different, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him. I would fuck him, maybe, which was debatable because I’d never fucked a dude before or wanted to. But I wasn’t a relationship guy, and I had a feeling he wanted more than sex. He wanted what I couldn’t give him, not just to him, but to anyone. And I certainly didn’t need a tornado called Luz in my life. I didn’t need anyone. I didn’twantanyone.
When Jordan parked behind a large warehouse, we got out of the car. A surveillance van awaited us there, and I entered it, followed by Jordan.
“He’s here,” Adam said, pointing at the screen in front of him. “Mendoza.”
“What am I looking at?” I asked him.
“An abandoned hangar approximately half a mile from here. According to our informant, Mendoza and a dozen of his men are inside. Maddox is parked on that hill over there with a sniper. The rest of the team is with him.”
“A sniper?” I said, thinking that I’d heard him wrong.
“Apparently, Maddox is an ex-mil. He spent some time in the psych ward, too. Just what we needed.”
“Jesus.”
“Are they moving guns?” Jordan said, peering at the screen.
“There’s no sign of trucks, so we’re not sure.”
For the next hour, we observed the property, but we could see nothing except the guards on the lookout.
“I don’t like this,” I said grimly. “Something about this feels wrong.”
Adam looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“Mendoza is a paranoid narcissist. When we raided his warehouse in New Mesa, we weren’t even sure he was there. And here we have his guards flaunting their weapons in our faces. I don’t buy it.”
“What do you want to do?” Jordan said.
“Contact the informant again.”
“Why?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“Shit, Mendoza’s jeep is on the move!” Adam exclaimed, standing up. “This is our chance to get him. Let’s go.”
