“You’ve got me racing across town in the middle of the night on a hunch?”
“Yeah, I fucking have. You got a problem with that?” I snap.
“Jesus. Who pissed in your shoes.”
“Ez,” I warn.
“Seriously, why are you in Mexico?”
“I’m standing in the middle of an airport; I can’t discuss this right now.”
“I just need to know that everything’s okay at the house and it can’t wait until I get back.”
“Something has happened, hasn’t it?”
“When hasn’t it?” I mutter, finding the gate half empty as people eagerly board and drop into an empty row.
“Fair. But this sounds serious.”
“Ez.” I sigh, slumping low, my exhaustion getting the better of me. “There’s so much more going on here than any of us realized.”
“Shit. Mexico,” he muses. “You have a meeting?”
“Yeah.”
“Cartel?”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, not willing to say a single word about it.
“Fuck. That is serious.”
“Ez?”
“Yes?”
“Can you stop asking so many questions and focus on getting there faster?”
“Slave driver.” He scoffs.
When I look up, I find I’m the only person still sitting here and the line is getting shorter.
“Bet you don’t say that when you look at your bank account,” I counter.
“Pfft. Someone’s got to put the work in around here.”
“You find Dev before you left?”
“Yep. He was working hard on two chicks.”
“And I’m assuming that work wasn’t getting a sale.”
“Only if he was selling his dick.”
I sigh and scrub the back of my neck as a call goes out for the final passengers to board.
“Pretty sure they’d already dropped some Molly, so he probably scored twice.”
“Lucky him,” I muse. When was the last fucking time I saw any action that wasn’t my right hand, exactly?