Page 40 of Live Love Steal
They scattered, the driver of my vehicle shoving the shifter into reverse and peeling out of the spot, barely missing my car as he did it. I took one long look at my car and Sketch fading into the distance, and wondered if I’d see either ever again.
10
Iron - Sketch
Whoosh barreled out of the house and aimed at the car speeding away. I knocked his hand wide.
“You fucked up my shot!” He was a damn good shot. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have kept him on as a prospect. But there was one problem with that.
“Isobel’s in there.”
“Who’s Isobel?”
How to put this as succinctly and delicately as possible? I pointed to the twin of the deal car. “The owner of that car, and the laptop you took in there thinking it was our shit.”
His face was blank.
There was a reason we called him Whoosh. Everything went over his head. I didn’t have time to break this shit down for him. “The girl I was fucking this afternoon, okay?”
“Oh.” He grinned.
Dumbass. “And you almost shot her.”
“She any good?”
I shoved him off the back porch. Fucking asshole. “Get the keys.”
“Don’t need the keys, I can hot wire?—”
I grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him up. “Go in and get the keys and her laptop.”
We were wasting time. I dragged him inside with me.
Our distributor, Carl, stood with his gun in hand, protecting the cache of drugs we’d just negotiated for. Correction, I’d just negotiated for. Here I thought those days were long in my past, but apparently, dumbass Whoosh couldn’t tell a laptop bag from a duffle bag. And that didn’t go over well. I’d walked into a shit show and had to calm everyone’s asses down. Right as we were settling on terms, the back lights went on. Since the night had already been fucked seven times to Sunday, I drew my gun and checked on things.
Only to see Isobel being kidnapped by a bunch of punks. Which gave me an idea…
I addressed Carl, “Do you know which gangs wear purple?” It was a long shot, but I figured Carl knew the neighborhood well.
“That would be either the Fifth Street boys, or fucking Maleanta’s asswipes.”
He swapped the gender around. Good to know he hated Victor almost as much as I did. “Does he buy from you?”
Carl hesitated. Everyone bought from him.
“Cut him off.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. As I packed the cash, I asked another question and held out a strap of twenties to pay for it. “Where does he live?”
Five minutes later, we parked outside the row house. Not a soul was there.
“You paid a fucking grand, man.”
Whoosh needed to shut the fuck up. I had the location, descriptions on at least three cars, and a secondary location a bit farther away. I was about to pull away when one of the vehicles drove past. They were moving slow, scoping the place. Since they were my only hope of finding Isobel, I motioned to Whoosh to get down.
They were being cautious. They circled the block once, checking for trouble or out-of-place cars. I motioned to Whoosh to take the left while I took the right. The car started up the road, and I stepped into the lane, gun drawn.
Of course, the idiot floored it. Whoosh shot twice, breaking the windshield and hitting the driver just before I dove out of the way. The car rammed into a set of parked cars, and their alarms started blaring. I dragged the driver out and down an alley and punched him in the face. Whoosh kicked his back.
