Page 1 of Savage

1

LACHLAN

NOTHING GOOD HAPPENED after midnight. Not in a dark, trash-filled alley in Queens, anyway.

From my place high above on the edge of a building, I watched the men gathered below recoil against the bitter January wind, kicking away the debris that swirled around their ankles.

Only the classiest of meetups for drug dealers attempting to infiltrate our city. And while I didn’t have an issue with anyone partaking in their sin of choice, these fuckers were lacing their shit. New on the scene, not under our rule,andsending New Yorkers to the morgue?

Fuck. That.

“Oh look, the rest of the tiny-dick brigade has arrived,” Alessio said through my earpiece, watching the scene below through the camera on my trench coat.

I trained my binoculars on the new figures arriving in the shadows. Three guys looking twitchy as hell, hands in their pockets, ready to pull out a weapon at any sign of aggression from the four waiting. They faced off with each other, several feet between them, and from the mics and cameras I’d placed down in the alley, I knew Alessio was getting a much clearerview. Probably already had each of the assholes scanned and identified.

Words were exchanged, prices negotiated, and then the goods made their appearance.

“You getting this?” I said, keeping my voice low so it didn’t carry on the wind.

“Callin’ me an amateur?”

“Just making sure I’m not freezing my ass off for no reason.”

“Hey, you’re the one who likes getting up close and personal with these assholes. Me, I prefer my cave.”

“Do you ever shut up?” I muttered. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Sounded to me like you were bitchin’ about freezin’ your balls off.”

I cursed under my breath as a particularly cold blast of air howled between the buildings, but Alessio was right—I had no one to blame but myself for being out here. When we’d caught news of the deal going down tonight, King had told us to set up a team to get eyes on the transaction and report back. But this was too important to justsendsomeone. People were dying, and there was no way I was about to miss an opportunity to gather intel.

I wanted faces and names, wanted to know the players that were out doing the dirty work for these motherfuckers—but most importantly, I wanted the head of this snake, and if that meant freezing my balls off, then that’s what I’d do.

“I’m moving closer. I can’t see shit up here.”

“I’ve got eyes on them; you don’t have to— Lachlan.”

I tuned Alessio out and melted into the shadows, making my way toward the stairs of the fire escape, never more thankful to the city that didn’t sleep, the ever-present traffic the perfect soundtrack to mask any sound the wrought iron made under my feet.

One of the guys down below nodded as he looked at the small packet in his hand and then followed the group of four to the back of his nondescript panel van parked in the alley.

Wow, way to play to your typical stereotypes.

Three of the four stood guard, hands at their waists in an obvious make-a-move-we-don’t-like-and-we’ll-kill-you stance, as the fourth opened the doors and unzipped a black duffel bag.

My eyes caught on the small packets overflowing from the bag as I hung from the final floor’s fire escape. I glanced to the end of the alley, where a bus zoomed by, followed by an angry taxi horn or three, then dropped to the ground and hugged the side of the building.

One of the gun-loving trio turned in my direction, flexing his hand against the grip of his gun as some sixth sense kicked in and told him he wasn’t the most dangerous thing in that alley. But when nothingseemedout of place, he went back to the deal at hand.

“Too close, Lachlan,” my backseat driver pointed out. “He almost spotted you.”

“Who’s calling who an amateur now? You got those face recs yet?”

“The Three Stooges, yep. I need the last one to turn around again.”

“What about the buyers?”

“Not facing the right way.”

---