Page 104 of In The Trenches (Owens Protective Services)

“What was it?”

“A heroine distribution center.”

“No shit?”

She nodded sagely. “And stupid me, I had no idea something was wrong until I wandered into a barn looking for someone and found myself surrounded by a shitload of drugs and at least thirty armed men.”

“So, what you’re saying is you just sort of stumble into trouble.”

She laughed slightly, shaking her head at me. “I guess you could say that after what happened at the research facility.” She went quiet for a moment. “I thought it was just Adam after me.”

“Do you know what those men wanted?”

“No, and I wish I had never been there. I only took the job because it paid more. I was trying to save up to get further away and maybe live a normal life.”

I frowned at that. “How did you get away from them?”

I glanced over at her when she didn’t respond, but she was lost in thought, staring out the window. “Beth?”

36

BETH

I had been drivingdown this road for nearly a half hour, with no signs of life anywhere in sight. A few times I saw signs that it was private property, but I kept driving because there wasn’t really a place to turn around on this narrow, gravel road. Finally, up ahead I spotted an old farmhouse. I just needed some directions to get out of here and back home.

I pulled to a stop in front of the house and stretched as I got out. Maybe if they were really nice, they’d invite me inside for a drink of water. I was so damn thirsty. I walked up to the house and banged on the door, but no one answered. The sun was already setting, and from what I could tell, there were no lights on in the house. I walked around the porch, looking in windows, but there was nobody.

I heard a noise off in the distance and walked down the steps toward the barn. Something was going on in there, so they must have been working late. So glad that I was finally going to talk to another human being, I didn’t notice the odd smell, or the fact that when I flung open the door, a heavy white powder hung in the air.

Stumbling back a step, I hid behind a crate, looking at the massive production in front of me. I’d been around drugs growing up. My mom was one of the biggest buyers on our block. But I’d never actually seen the whole operation in motion. I glanced back at the door, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of here without being seen. I quickly pulled out my phone, making sure it was on silent as I opened my camera. If I got caught, I needed to have evidence on my side.

Peeking around the corner, I started snapping photos, zooming in on what I thought were important things around the warehouse.

“Tucker’s on his way here,” one of the men said loudly. “Let’s get this place cleaned up. He’ll be here any minute. And he’s bringing a friend.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?”

“Christ, not that fucker. I hate Walton.”

I frowned, wondering who Walton was. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I slipped around some more crates, sticking to the shadows as best I could, then snapped a few more pictures when I came across a crate not sealed. Peeking inside, my eyes widened. It was filled with stacks of hundred dollar bills. After a few more pictures, I uploaded the pictures to my secure cloud account.

Slipping my phone in my back pocket, I made my way back to the door, ready to get the hell out of there. But when I pulled open the door, I knew I wasn’t leaving. Someone was standing by my car with a radio in his hand. I was so fucked.

“Mr. Walton,” another voice said.

I gasped, pressing myself against a crate just as a man walked past me. Narrowing my eyes, I finally realized who they were talking about when I saw his face. It was the governor, and he was here at a drug distribution center, or whatever the hell this was.

“Tucker,” Walton said as he approached. I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a few pictures just as the men shook hands. “I’m assuming everything is running smoothly and on time.”

I quickly switched to video and stayed as far back as possible.

“We just got another shipment from Mexico.”

“That was supposed to be here a week ago. What’s the holdup?”

“Our drug runners had a little trouble getting through the border inspection.”

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