Page 69 of Brew
“If I’d wanted to try and get away with somethin’, I would’ve told you about my brother from the get go,” Gareth’s explains. “I didn’t want to involve him.”
Bane, taking a stance similar to mine, is still frowning. “You know I’m standin’ right here,” he says. “And all you had to do was pick up the fuckin’ phone, asswipe.”
There’s some bad blood between them, and while I don’t know what that is, I can sure as shit guess that it ain’t good. One thing I know for sure is to stay out of other people’s business, especially when it comes to brotherly love.
Gareth clings to the bars, his frustration evident. “I knew if I did that, it would become your problem, and I didn’t want that.”
“A bit too late for that,” Bane grumbles. “You better fuckin’ hope this shit works out, or it won’t just be them you’re answerin’ to.”
Gareth and Bane share a look I know only too well; it’s one I’ve shared with my own siblings a number of times. We know Bane is always gonna side with his brother when all’s said and done, no matter what, but the frustration between them is evident. Whatever shit they have to work out, that’s on them, but I’m tired of sitting around waiting for something to happen.
“Might have some good news finally, boss,” Stella interrupts as we all turn when she enters the room. “Just got word from the prospects, some movement at the location finally.” She smiles her little smile.
“Good work,” Cash says. “Tell them to keep out of sight until we send backup. How many are there?”
“Just two,” she replies.
I don’t miss the slight smirk on Gareth’s face as if to say ‘see, told you so,’ but he better hope for his sake that this pans out. Squashing this quickly and quietly is our number one priority, even if everyone knows nobody is getting away with shit in New Orleans. Not as long as I’m involved.
Cash immediately turns to me. “If I tell you to stay away, will you?”
I give him a pointed look. “Soundin’ a lot like you don’t trust me. Have I ever let you down before?”
“No, but I also know you. Can’t go in guns blazin’,” Cash says as if I don’t already know how it works. Maybe my Prez has forgotten what I used to do before I joined the NOLA Rebels. I never do anything on impulse. I act on my gut, yes, but it’s planned out, and I never go swooping in, as much as I’d like to.
“Don’t have to remind me,” I grunt. “Ain’t my first rodeo, Prez.”
“Take over from the prospects, send Sawyer over to plant some cameras,” he says. “If we don’t get anythin’ from that, then you’ll have to make the call, but keep them alive. Nobody’s gonna say shit when they’ve got a bullet in their brains.”
“He understands, right, bro?” Haze whacks me on the back.
“Like I said, not my first rodeo.”
I hate stake outs.
Sitting in an unmarked van across the street from potential Grid members is infuriating as it is boring. While Cash said not to go in guns blazing, this just feels counterproductive.
We don’t know shit, and the wireless cameras haven't shown anything newsworthy.
Just two dudes sitting around. I’ve found over the years one of two things happens during this tedious process; we wait until more assholes arrive and then raid the joint, or we sit it out and follow them. It’s easier to follow them then grab them and prize the information from them, and a lot less bloody. Most of the guys working for The Grid on this level are merely pawns, but it’s the big guys we want to hit the most.
And I still have one on my hit list. The man who organized Valencia’s murder. He gave the okay, and the slippery sucker isn’t an easy one to find. Involvement with the cartel is only the beginning of opening a giant can of worms. When I do find him, I’ll be sure to give him the same treatment he gave Valencia. It isn’t just for her memory why I do this, it’s to shut down this operation once and for all. We may be fighting a losing battle, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop.
“You good?” Haze glances at me, sensing my frustration.
“Yeah.”
“Liar. I know you wanna go in there, but think about it. Last time we did that, things got messy, and I ruined that new pair of shoes I just bought.”
I side eye him. “You did not just complain about shoes when we’re talkin’ about people’s lives.”
“What I mean is, preparation is key.”
“You think I forgot all my trainin’, dickface? Why does everyone around here treat me like I’m a toddler who’ll spit the pacifier out when he doesn’t get his own way?”
“Maybe because it’s true?”
“Shut the fuck up. Why am I always stuck on a stakeout with you, anyway?”
