Page 98 of Ruthless Lord
Stefano: Better if you didn’t.
Charlie: And how I was wondering when you’d follow through with that punishment you promised… you know, the one involving my filthy mouth?
Stefano: I’m about to drive out of here.
Charlie: Don’t do that. I’m just teasing! I’m in sweats and completely uninterested in your dick entering my mouth.
Stefano: You’re lying. You’re always interested in my dick and your mouth.
Charlie: Conceited!
Stefano: Realistic.
Charlie: Tell you what. You stick to the plan… and I’ll reward you.
Stefano: Sounds like you’re going to reward yourself, but I accept.
Charlie: Stop texting me now.
Stefano: I’m in agony over here.
Charlie: Get over it, you baby!
I toss my phone aside with a snarl. It’s been two hours and I’m not the sitting and waiting type. I want to get out and pace around like a tiger prowling a cage. Instead, Charlie made me swear I’d sit tight, just on the off chance that her family is being extra cautious and has eyes on the area.
I can’t blame her. From what I’ve seen, her father’s been hiring some serious professionals. Only a real skilled burglar would be able to get into the depot without getting caught, even though they have triggered the alarms and sensors. Still, whoever it is, they’re good.
It’s around one in the morning when I notice movement near the truck. The driver’s in the cab, probably asleep. I lean forward, squinting into the darkness, not sure if I’m making something up just because I’m so goddamn bored, but no, it’s real. There’s a person creeping along the side closest to the forest, right in my sightline, heading to the passenger door. Whoever it is looks like barely more than a shadow.
I slip from the car and move at a very slow crouch, inching my way across the heavily wooded area.
The shadow slips open the cab door and disappears inside. I swear, they’re like ink. I reach the back of the truck and listen, but I don’t hear a thing. I have no clue if they’re still in the front or if they snuck out back. All this creeping shit isn’t my thing.
I draw my gun and move to the front door. The passenger side is still left slightly ajar. I’m thinking I can wait here and ambush whoever’s inside, but fucking hell, my back hurts and my knees are like jelly. My spine’s a mess of aches and pains, and my neck is on the edge of giving out. I’m too old to sneak around. I need to start playing to my strengths.
I tap the side of the door with the barrel of my gun. The sound is deafening in the tense quiet.
“I know you’re in there. Come out and let’s have a conversation.”
Silence. Nothing from inside. I tap again, harder this time. If the driver was asleep, he should be up by now. But there’s still nothing.
“If you make me come in there, you won’t like it.” I edge the door open wider. “Come out. We can resolve this peacefully.”
Still nothing. I curse to myself and decide to take a risk. I drop to my knees and throw myself sideways until I can see up into the cab.
Nobody’s there.
I slowly push myself up and climb inside, gun first. It takes a beat for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I keep waiting for that shadow to attack.
There’s only a shape on the pull-out bed in the very back. I lean forward and yank the blankets away.
It’s the driver.
His throat’s cut wide open.
Blood coats the mattress beneath him, black in the dim light.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter, turning to get out.
