Page 2 of Bulletproof Love

I spot my landmark—Mr. Clean 24/7 Laundromat—and turn down the adjacent street. Every step feels as if I’m plodding through a mountain of mud. The relief is near… I’m so close.

I pick up a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye and stop, resting my hand on my gun tucked in the side of my jeans. “Hello?” I call out. “I know you’re there.”

No mistaking it, there’s someone hiding in the shadows. Fuck. Grabbing my phone, I tap the screen to wake it up, squinting from the brightness. The space ahead gains a faint glow, revealing an empty alley. I’m alone.

Great, now I’m seeing things. What would Falin think if she were here with me? I stifle a scoff. She’d definitely bust my balls, no doubt about that.

I release a breath and turn back toward the street. At least there’s a bit of light coming from the laundromat windows. Texting my contact in a dark alley feels a bit too criminal for me.

Well, what do you expect? You’re about to buy drugs, dumbass.Not a smart move, but it is what it is.

My phone vibrates against my palm, so I stop to see who’s calling, hoping it’s the dude I’m supposed to be meeting. Gotta love burner phones and Telegram. It’s so much easier now than when I was in college trying to score weed.

As I rub my eyes, blinking away the moisture forming in the corners from the assault of bright light, a harsh voice cuts through the quiet street. “You got two seconds to tell me who you are and what you’re doing on my street.”

My eyes adjust, revealing two forms in front of me. They’re both tall guys—not as tall as me, maybe about Damon’s height. One’s a thick dude with a large sagging gut. The other, his gun aimed at my face, looks fit enough to cause trouble if I make a run for it. Gaiters partially cover their faces, leaving only dark, narrowed eyes visible.

I hold my hands up, phone still grasped in my palm, and smile. Time to do what I do best—talk my way out of this shit. “Hey man, why don’t you lower your piece and we can talk. I’m not here to cause trouble. ”

My phone vibrates again, and both sets of eyes zero in on it.

“Make that shit stop and answer my question,” he says, gesturing to my phone. My pulse pounds as I nod and slowly lower my hand to peek at the screen.Falin.

Why is she calling me at 1 AM? It kills me to side button her, but I don’t have a choice.

“Better?” I ask, raising my hand back up.

“Answer the question. What are you doing here?”

Goddamn, I think his voice made my nuts retreat all the way up into my body. Is that even medically possible? Balls can drop, but can they un-drop? Maybe Dr. Blake knows.

“I promise you, I’m a great conversationalist. We can walk outta here, hand in hand, new best buddies. But you gotta do me a solid and lower your weapon, then I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

Did I think I’d be sweet talking a gun-wielding criminal tonight? Nope. But I guess this is what I deserve.

His buddy, we’ll call him Big Guy, taps him on the shoulder and he legit growls. I’m talking a cross between a rabid dog and a feral zoo animal. “What?”

“Maybe we can see what he’s gotta say?” Big Guy offers, looking me up and down. “Seems like he’s alright.”

I nod vigorously. “He’s right.”

Growler lowers his piece and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Fuck’s sake,” he says. “Just answer the goddamn questions.”

“I’m J. I’m here for a pick up.” My phone vibrates again but I angle it so they can’t see. I’m worried something is actually wrong. Falin’s only used my phone number once before…the night of the haunted show last month.

The two turds look at me like I have an extra eye coming out of my forehead. Are they going to make me spell it out? “Oxys? This is the spot he told me to come to.”

Another wave of nausea has me closing my eyes for a moment. I’m so damn over these two idiots. If they don’t give me what I came for, there’s a strong chance—maybe ninety-nine percent—that I’ll have to kill them. My mind wanders, imagining all the ways I could do it. There’s my gun, but that’s too easy…

Growler interrupts my thoughts. “So you’re saying you’re here to buy pills?”

Holy shit, they don’t have two brain cells to rub together. My eyes dart between the two of them, checking to see if they really need me to repeat myself. When they keep the same dumb head tilt and wide eyed stare, I huff and confirm. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Growler inclines his head in a subtle nod and all at once, shit hits the fan. Both men pull out their weapons, pointing them directly at me, and Big Guy shouts, “Police! Get your hands up where we can see ‘em. You’re under arrest.”

Fuck me.

There’s no way I’m getting snagged for buying a couple pills. Not happening. I slowly raise my shaky hands, silently praying for a miracle.

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