Page 46 of Kylo
“Oh, so you’re the boss now, huh? Making decisions.”
“No, I—”
There was a chill in his tone. He took down the temperature in the room by ten degrees. A shiver racked my system as he drew closer still.
“No is right. Get your fucking ass out here,” he demanded, grabbing my wrist and yanking me from behind the desk.
His fingers crushed my wrist, and a small yelp escaped me.
That sound only seemed to motivate Marco as he widened his stride, basically pulling me along with him through the store. I had to jog to keep up and ease the ache on my wrist.
He released me to open the door, but the darkness in his eyes dared me to try to resist again. Or even so much as hesitate.
So I did what I had to do.
I walked outside.
Marco loomed behind me.
Seeing us approach, the other men fell silent.
“Good news, guys,” Marco called, his voice making my shoulders inch up to my ears. “You get to kick back. Rue here is gonna unload the shit tonight.”
My heart stuttered, then seemed to freeze in my chest.
They wanted me to touch the cargo?
“Get to work. We got places to be,” Marco said, giving me a slight shove.
“I don’t—” I started to object.
“Move the fucking shit. Out of the truck. Into the SUVs. Ain’t fucking rocket science. Get the fuck moving.”
There were half a dozen men standing around, each and every one of them larger than me.
I had no choice.
I moved toward the back of the truck, stepping up on the half-raised lift gate, then moving into the back.
It was hot and humid inside as I went over to the boxes to remove the plants—some in pots, others just wrapped bareroots. I went to the edge of the truck and carefully dropped them onto the grass to the side of the truck.
Back and forth, over and over.
The adrenaline fought through the fog I’d been living in, allowing me to keep going, keep shuffling boxes, and moving plants.
“Ain’t got all night,” Marco called. “Fuck, go make me a coffee,” he said to someone else. Then, again to me, “The fuck?”
“I can’t lift them,” I admitted after trying for the third time.
Marco moved into the opening, the moon overhead casting him mostly in shadow, giving him an even more sinister look.
“No? Then I guess you’re gonna have to take them out and carry them one by one then.”
As he turned to talk to one of his men, I saw metal glint off the moonlight. He had a gun in the waistband of his jeans.
He was not going to let me screw around for much longer.
I had to touch the contraband.
