Page 129 of Never Started
The threats keep coming, and I feel like I’m finally at a loss.
It isn’t easy for me to admit when I’m in over my head with anything, but with this, handling it all alone, I’m not sure I can take much more. Everyone has a breaking point, and I’m about to reach mine.
Thankfully, with Izzy being MIA, no further threats have been made toward her. I’m concerned enough about her, especially since we aren’t currently in contact. But, at this point, if onemore threat were to be made toward her, that would be the thing to snap every ounce of my remaining control.
Pushing my way out of my front door, I’m greeted with the smell of rain and freshly cut grass. A smell I’ve grown to love; it feels like home.
“Boss!” I hear Henry’s voice shout out as my head swings in his direction, and I catch sight of him on the back of his horse, barreling toward me at full speed.
Fuck.
What the hell could possibly be wrong now?
I stop in my tracks as Henry’s horse comes to an abrupt halt. He hops down, rushing to me, clearly in a panic.
“What the fuck–”
Before I can finish my question, Henry cuts me off. “Those guys. The ones that keep lurking around.” He rushes the words out, but he’s winded and somewhat hard to decipher. “They’re back. They’re here with a semi-truck. They said it’s a shipment for you. You said to let you know if they came back and… And something doesn’t seem right, boss.”
Before Henry can continue, I’m already taking off. I hurry toward my truck, phone and keys in hand.
Fuck this.
Turning the keys over in the ignition, I quickly pull out of my drive as fast as my truck can handle.
The phone only has the chance to ring once before I hear his voice cut through the line. “I was expecting your call. Hello, Jettson.”
“A fucking shipment!?” I shout, the frustration evident in my tone. “ I already told you, I’m not stashing your fucking drugs! I already paid–”
“The terms have changed. You know this, Jett. I told yousomany times before. You’d think someone in your position wouldbe much more cooperative.” He laughs maniacally as my phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming text, but I ignore it.
“I’m not playing this game with you. I have nothing left. You took every fucking penny.” My harsh words cut through his laughter. I may not have the upper hand here, but I refuse to back down. Just then, I pull up to the old stable barn on the back end of the property, and I catch sight of the truck and multiple armed men unloading large wrapped pallets.
Obviously not thinking clearly, I grab my pistol and make quick work of exiting my truck with the phone still to my ear.
“Hey!” I shout toward the men offloading the truck. “Either pack this shit back up and get the fuck off my property, or I’ll call the police myself.”
I connect the call to speaker phone and, speaking directly into the receiver this time, I shout, “Fuck your threats. Either have your minions pack it the fuck up, or have the cops hot on your ass. It’s your call!”
Silence.
I’m met with absolute silence from the men in front of me, as well as the man on the phone.
“Wrong choice.” His voice comes out in a low growl, all traces of his sinister laughter from earlier having evaporated. “Load up and head home,” he shouts, directing the words at his men.
“Fuck your choices. I’m done being your puppet.”
“You obviously aren’t very good at checking your text messages,” he says, the sinister edge making its way back into his tone. “You will regret this, Jettson. Just remember, I gave you the option.” Unable to even focus on his words, I let out a huff, staring at his men in the standoff I’ve found myself in.
The line goes dead, and I can’t focus on anything other than the rage that’s scalding my blood. The men across from me shake their heads, throwing daggers at me with their glares as they make quick work of reloading the truck.
Once they’re gone, I take a deep breath and lean against my truck. My body droops with exhaustion at the tense encounter that just transpired.
Going over the whirlwind in my mind, his words strike clear.
You obviously aren’t very good at checking your text messages.
Something doesn’t feel right with me. I instantly reach for my phone, swipe to my texts, and open the most recent message.
