by C. J. Miller
Shake jammed the money into his pockets. “I’m not lying to you, man. Giselle told me you were a power player. I want to make good on my investment. Cash is king.”
Hyde and Finn backed away. Shake didn’t follow them.
“You think this is the real deal?” Hyde asked when they had moved away from Shake and were blending with the crowd.
“We’ll take it to the lab and find out.”
“Do you think Shake is part of Barnett’s network?” Hyde asked.
“Can’t say. Barnett needs to get the drugs on the streets somehow,” Finn said.
Finn called the West Company, requesting a location to drop the pills. If they could connect them to the blood work of the latest known victim, they would know more about the overdose and what made Whiteout so alluring and dangerous.
“Looks like you got your way. We’ve focused again on the mission.”
Finn stopped in his tracks. “You threw something at me that I wasn’t prepared for.”
Hyde met his eyes. Her sadness was palpable. “Not prepared. For a relationship. For us. I know that work can take over a life, but I’m tired of living that way. I need something more.”
For the second time that night, Finn was at a loss for words.
Chapter 13
Finn groaned when Barnett’s name lit on his phone display. He answered curtly.
“I need you at the pier on Fourth Street,” Barnett said.
It was two in the morning. Finn was exhausted. He and Hyde had delivered the sample of Whiteout to the West Company lab. They were heading back to their hotel, exhausted and hungry. Hyde was annoyed with him, and their need for sleep was adding to her agitation.
Finn kept his voice energized. “We’re out now. What’s up?”
“My contact at the DEA is on shift at the pier and he’s going to green light supplies I need,” Barnett said.
Finn looked forward to meeting the DEA contact and making sure he went down when Barnett’s enterprise imploded. “Why do you need me there?”
“I’m keeping the location of the warehouse to a few trusted people. I want you to make the delivery. Get the supplies there. I’ll send you information on how we’ll distribute it to the cook houses.”
“Is the warehouse ready?” Finn asked. It had only been a day. Barnett had moved fast.
“Sydney’s taken care of it. Stop asking questions. Do as I tell you,” Barnett said.
Making the delivery and then setting fire to the warehouse would keep the supplies from reaching their destinations. If Finn was involved in two destructions in the same week, questions would be raised. Blaming the Shadow Crew would take some of the heat off him, but it would also make Finn look incompetent, and he would lose Barnett’s trust. “Sure thing, boss.”
He disconnected the call. “We’re playing delivery people tonight.”
Hyde sighed. “Delivery of what exactly?”
“The supplies Barnett needs to make Whiteout, I’m assuming,” Finn said. “He wasn’t open to questions.”
Hyde wrung her hands. “We can’t do that. We can’t allow more of this stuff to be sold.”
“Maybe someone is adding their own ingredients. Maybe one of the cook houses is contaminated.” He didn’t like the idea of helping Whiteout reach the street, either, but staying involved was the only way to stop it. “Barnett wants us at the pier now. He has a DEA agent ready to approve the shipment. It’s too late to call in law enforcement. Barnett will know from the timing we were the rats.”
Hyde forked her fingers into her hair. “We’ll have to disrupt the supply chain before this makes it to the street.”
Twenty minutes later Finn was waiting on the pier. Not much activity at this time of night, and not being able to see over the shipping containers made him nervous. He didn’t want another shoot-out with the Shadow Crew or anyone in the Barnett cartel. He’d had no time to prepare or to surveil the area prior to this meeting. Hyde was watching his back, but it was two of them against an unknown number.
Two men wearing dark clothing approached. “Moore?” one of the men asked. He had a trim, gray beard, and his gaze darted nervously left and right.
“Yes,” Finn said.
“Truck’s at the end of the line. Already loaded. Get moving.”
That was it? “You have a plan to keep the authorities off me?” Finn didn’t want to drive the streets of Miami with illegal products and into a trap. That amount of substances meant jail time and if he went free because he was undercover, the mission was blown.
The men exchanged glances. Hyde was likely taking their pictures and sending them to Abby. Two more who’d go down with Barnett.
“You don’t need to worry about the authorities,” the first man said.
Because they were the authorities. Were they DEA agents? Was the other man police? Coast guard? How many pockets was Barnett stuffing with bribes to get Whiteout into Miami?
Waiting around would invite more trouble. Another option had not presented itself and he went with it. Keys were tossed at him. Finn caught them and strode in the direction he’d been pointed. Hyde met him close to the truck. Coming close to him, she grabbed his sleeves hard.
“Something about this feels off,” Hyde said. “Why couldn’t they drive the truck? If Barnett trusts them with the goods, he should trust them with the location of the warehouse.”
He agreed something was wrong. “They don’t want to be seen lurking around Miami. You think this is a trap?” Finn asked.
“Why would Barnett want us caught?” Hyde asked.
They climbed into the truck and started it up.
“Send a message to Abby. Let her know what’s going on and to watch the police scanners for any activity we need to avoid.”
Finn pulled slowly away from the pier. The truck rumbled as they drove down the streets of Miami. “You think we’re being watched?” Finn asked.
“Quite possibly,” Hyde said. She was checking the interior of the truck for bugs. “We’re clear. Nothing in here. Could be a tracking device elsewhere in the truck.”
Being thrown into the assignment had taken the focus off her anger for him. She was into the mission now.
“I’d love to look in the back and see what we’re working with,” Finn said.
“We’ll find out at the warehouse,” Hyde said. She glanced in the passenger-side mirror. “It might be nothing, but there’re three men on motorcycles behind us.”
Finn saw them. “I’ll change lanes and see if they pass us.”
Finn pressed the turn signal and moved right. Taking his foot off the gas, the truck decelerated and Finn waited for the motorcycles to speed by. Instead, they changed lanes and slid behind him.
Finn swore under his breath. “Ideas?”
“They haven’t done anything aggressive. If we go somewhere more populated or better lit, they’ll back off. There’s a chance they don’t want the items in the truck or they’re three guys, out having a good time, messing with us.”
Finn snorted. “I love your optimism. The other option is that they are with the Shadow Crew and will ambush us.”
“How could they know about the delivery?” Hyde asked.
“Barnett could have leaks in his organization,” Finn said.
One of the motorcycles sped up, its engine roaring. Finn caught a glimpse of the rider. He was wearing the gang colors of the Shadow Crew and their logo of a ghost on his helmet. “Shadow Crew. They must have been tipped off about our delivery. They’ve made it clear they want in. They’re getting the point across.”
Hyde reached into her bag and withdrew her gun. “If they don’t back off, this won’t end well.”
Ahead of them on the two-way street, five more motorcycles pulled out of a side road.
“They
’re trying to box us in,” Finn said. They had the advantage of mass, but the motorcycles had speed and numbers.
“Don’t let off the accelerator. They’d be stupid to play chicken with us. Ram them if you have to,” Hyde said.
Finn pressed the truck’s limits. The last thing he wanted was to hurt anyone and he didn’t want to start a gang war. The motorcycles were darting ahead, moving into Finn’s lane, threatening to slam into the front of his vehicle.
Before impact, the cycles veered.
Hyde was typing on her phone. “I’m looking for alternate routes. We can’t get trapped.”
The motorcycles were pursuing them.
“We could be carrying flammable cargo,” Finn said.
“I’m calling Barnett. We need to know what’s back there,” Hyde said.
Finn didn’t want to involve Barnett, but they hadn’t checked the contents. If they had explosive chemicals, they needed to be careful. “Put the phone on speaker so I can talk to him.”
Barnett answered and Finn relayed the situation.
“Evade them. We can’t lose that cargo. It will set us back weeks,” Barnett said.
“I thought you were handling the Shadow Crew,” Finn said.
“I have handled them. I’m shutting them out. I don’t cave to threats,” Barnett said.
If Barnett had been there, Finn would have punched him. Avoiding the Shadow Crew wasn’t a solution. “Who else knew about the delivery?” Finn asked.
Barnett sighed. “Sydney and a few of my men. You’re in Miami to be my eyes and ears. Make this right or disappear.”
“What’s in the truck? I need to know if it could explode, like the warehouse did,” Finn said.
“You’ll be fine. Don’t hit anything and you’ll survive,” Barnett said.
The call disconnected.
Finn had some choice words. They would have to wait.
“If they start shooting, they could blow our tires and we’re screwed. I’ve messaged Abby, but I don’t know if she can send anyone to help us in time.”
The sound of a bullet striking metal set Finn’s nerves on edge. He had anticipated an attack, but nothing like this.
“We need a defensible position,” Hyde said.
Finn looked around the street. On his right, about thirty yards away was the water. On the left, tall condominium complexes and shops filled with citizens who could be caught in the cross fire. Finn pulled the truck diagonally across a side street and slammed to a stop. On the corners of the block were a dry cleaners and an accessories boutique, closed for the night.
They slid out his side of the vehicle. The motorcyclists formed a semicircle around them. They seemed unsure how to react.
Finn belly-crawled underneath the truck. Aiming his gun in their direction, he had the luxury of time to be careful to hit a metal garbage can across the road. Killing a member of the Shadow Crew wasn’t in his plan. Finn’s shot had the desired effect. Some of the gang members retreated and two fled on their motorcycles.
Others retaliated, shooting at the truck. Finn took cover behind one of the truck’s wheels. Finn was lucky that they didn’t seem to have much skill in aiming.
“Are you okay?” Finn asked.
The sound of police sirens filled the air.
“I have a message from Abby that a call went out over the police scanner that a truck and motorcycles are involved in an active shooting,” Hyde said.
That fast?
“Fleeing in the truck is painting a huge bull’s-eye on us,” Finn said. The police would pursue them, especially if they had a correct description of their truck. Based on the number of windows facing their position, Finn guessed it was likely. The dark would only conceal them to a point.
“What’s the plan?” Hyde asked. She reached across to Finn and they interlaced their fingers. Then they put their hands back on their weapons.
“I wanted to scare them off,” Finn said. “I didn’t think they would hold their ground.”
“We can run on foot and abandon the truck or we can flee with the goods,” Hyde said.
Finn ducked under the truck and fired another warning shot. Hyde stood and did the same over the front of the truck.
“If you want the mission to be over, we run,” Finn said. He wasn’t sure how he wanted her to answer. Until this point, his first priority was taking down Barnett. Now his thoughts were blurred with Hyde’s words. She wanted a future with him, and that meant something. More than that, she meant everything to him. He wanted her. Needed her. Would go crazy without her.
His silence had shut her down. She was again focused on the mission, maybe as a defense mechanism. Now wasn’t the right time to discuss this, but the words weighed on him.
Hyde looked at her gun. “Let’s take the truck.” She sounded resigned to it, but not hopeful.
The police arrived on the scene, approaching from opposite ends of the street perpendicular to their position. Black-and-white police cars skidded to a stop, blocking the street. They exited their vehicles and drew their guns. Three cars in total, and Finn guessed more were on the way to provide backup.
Finn swore. The motorcyclists were raising their hands above their heads in surrender. If he and Hyde did the same, this would end tonight. Barnett would be free, but he and Hyde would be done. Following that thought to a logical conclusion, the picture was blurry: Hyde living in Bearcreek and he was working a job, maybe as a PI or getting a job in the local police department. The picture didn’t disgust him. But in the immediate, they needed to get out of this.
“I’m not killing a cop,” Finn said.
Hyde wiped a hand across her forehead. “Not me, either.”
“Let’s get in the truck and get out of here,” Finn said.
“It’s the only option.”
They climbed back into the truck. Finn lay low in the driver’s seat. There were six police officers on the scene. They were rounding up the gang members, each officer busy.
Finn hit the accelerator. The truck drove up onto the curb. With a jerk of the wheel, Finn put the truck on the road. He was lucky he didn’t pop a tire. He imagined the cargo in the back of the truck was shifting and he prayed nothing ignited, exploding them off the road.
In his side mirror, he saw the police waving and shouting to stop. Finn kept moving.
“Find a place for us to hide the truck,” Finn said.
Hyde was tapping at her phone. “I can’t internet search that. Places to hide a freaking semi. I’ll message Abby.”
“If we don’t hide it, we’ll be located,” Finn said. He drove down the road and heard sirens approaching. The police were looking for them and would find them.
Finally, Hyde spoke. “Circle back to the pier. There’s a company that says it repairs boats. They may have a big place to stash a truck and even some paint to disguise it.”
Hyde gave him the directions and Finn drove as quickly as he could.
* * *
The drive to the pier took ten minutes, though it felt like hours had passed. They had heard sirens getting closer and then farther away, which meant the police had not given up their search.
Finally, Hyde and Finn arrived at the boat repair shop, but the entrance was barred by a chain wrapped around a metal gate and secured with a padlock.
“You’re better at this than I am.” Finn handed her a lock pick kit.
Hyde jumped out of the truck. Her adrenaline was pumping and her hands were shaking. Calling on her training, she took deep breaths and slowed her racing heart. To get out of this without being caught, she and Finn needed to stay calm and alert.
She looked around for a camera and was relieved not to see any. Hyde knelt in front of the fence. Shaking out the last of her jitters, she used the picks to pop the metal lock open. She removed
the chain holding the gate closed, thinking it sounded incredibly loud. Someone would hear them and call the police. A residential area was located across the two-lane street, a tall six-or seven-story condominium community with windows lining the side facing the water. With the noise the police sirens had made, people had to have been awoken. Were she and Finn being watched?
Hyde pushed open the gate and motioned to Finn to pull the truck through. The truck’s engine was loud and, at this hour, out of place.
The ground around the repair shop was made of crushed seashells. The garages were vinyl construction, pale green and large enough to house the truck. Hyde closed the entryway gate and slipped the chain around it, leaving the lock dangling.
Peering in through a small window on the garage’s sliding door, the first two sheds were filled. They were lucky on the third. It was empty. Hyde picked the lock and slid the barn-style doors open.
Finn parked the truck inside the shed, and Hyde secured the doors. She typed an update to Abby. Abby had been tracking the situation with the police and the motorcyclists from the Shadow Crew.
Hyde groaned. “I have no signal. How is that possible?”
“Is there a landline around?” Finn asked.
An inspection of the shed revealed no other way to make calls. They did, however, find a sign indicating the boat repair shop opened for business at five in the morning. Two hours before they needed to move. The room was outfitted with large, overhead lights, but Hyde and Finn used only the light from the truck’s interior.
“Let’s check the cargo and see what’s so important to Barnett,” Finn said. He left the driver’s-side door open and circled the vehicle. He lifted the gate.
The truck was filled with brown cardboard boxes labeled with the word pineapple and a yellow and green picture of one. Hyde hadn’t expected the boxes to be labeled with their true contents, but she credited Barnett with printing something boring on the boxes.
Finn slit open one of the boxes. “Definitely not pineapples.” He tilted the box toward Hyde. The box was filled with small plastic zipper-sealed clear bags of white, blue and red chemicals.