Page 56 of Nest of Thieves
He’s been avoiding her all day.
“She’s in her room.” I installed a few cameras. Last time I checked, she was lying in bed.
“Spying on Kitten? She’s not going to like that.” Mac tsks.
“She’s dangerous, and we have to know what she’s up to when we’re not around.”
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ll be watching her every night?” Vette muses, shooting Mac a knowing look.
“Lark the Creeper. I like that nickname.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, shaking my head. Fuckers think they’re funny.
“Fifty says she’ll be up as soon as we start the truck.” Mac opens the back door and sets his gun down, checking over the rest of his weapons to make sure he’s all set.
Vette drops to his knees and switches out his license plate for one of the spare ones we have sitting around. The cameras are down, but the plates will help in case there are any eyewitnesses. With the shit we’re about to walk into, I doubt anyone would try to come forward.
No one wants to be associated with human trafficking.
Still, it’s best to be safe. Vette finishes screwing the front one on.
“A hundred says she’s already up,” he counters, grinning at Mac.
They both shoot me pointed looks. Rolling my eyes, I grab my phone from my pocket and pull up the security app, tapping into the feed for her room. Sure enough, Jo’s bed is empty.
“She’s up.”
“Chupa me pito,” Vette says with a laugh.Suck my dick.
“Fuck you.” Mac gets into the truck and slams the door.
“Ay, pobrecito.”Oh, poor baby.
I snicker. “He’s going to punch you one of these days.” Rounding the truck, I get in on the passenger side, but not before I hear Vette say, “I’d like to see him try.”
It’d be a toss-up between the two of them. What Vette has on Mac in strength, Mac makes up for with sheer crazy. Mac’s unstoppable when he gets a surge of that wild energy. Vette’s a powerhouse and quick. A fight between them would end in blood. That’s not to say we don’t fight. We do. Living with each other for years has taught us that sometimes the only way to get out frustration is to beat on each other inside a boxing ring.
“He’s a bitch,” Mac mumbles.
“Don’t be a sore loser.” I buckle and Vette climbs in.
“You owe me,” he tells Mac.
“Whatever.”
Vette chuckles under his breath and hits the garage opener. Silence settles over the car as the severity of what we’re about to do sinks in.
* * *
I adjust the strap of my AR-15, hating the weight of the bulletproof vest I put on after we arrived. The vests are a necessary evil. No sense in dying because of the Philly Viper fuckers. I pull up the feed for the cameras I slapped against the light posts on the street. They’re discreet, and while it’s not a high-definition feed, the footage gives me all I need. A semi turns down the street, the third one in the last twenty minutes, and crawls down the road. Unlike the last two, this one turns into the warehouse’s parking lot. The sound of screeching metal fills the air, and I pocket the phone, nodding at the guys. We’re situated behind two dumpsters at the far end of the lot.
The three guys inside arrived about thirty minutes ago in two big white vans. The kind parents warn their kids about. The rolling garage door finishes opening, and the truck driver shifts, pulling around and backing up to the loading dock closest to where we are. Right as he parks, another semi arrives. Another rolling steel door opens, and that truck backs in as well. Both drivers hop out and head inside via the small side door.
We wait three minutes before slipping out from behind the dumpsters. Vette takes lead, as usual, and creeps along the side of the building. I steady my breathing, glancing back at Mac to make sure he’s all good. His smile is manic. The sight of it makes my heart jump into my throat, but it’s moments like this when it’s best to let Mac loose. He won’t stop until every scumbag is dead, and that’s what we need.
I only hate knowing what created the monster and that he’s never taken the time to work through that baggage. Shoving down my concern for my friend, I face forward and wait for Vette to open the door. He hesitates, cocking his head to the side to listen. He grabs a handgun, always ready to go in with less, and tugs on the collar of his bulletproof vest. None of us like wearing the protective gear, but we’re not fucking stupid.
You don’t go to a gun fight unprotected.
