Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Keep the engine running,” I told Tiny. He nodded once, understanding. We’d grabbed a cage and driver rather than the bikes. Less noise in the late night.
Veda sat in the back, wedged between me and Diesel, with Inferno in the front. Diesel had gained his patch a couple months ago and proved to be a solid addition to Kiss of Death thus far. As for Veda, she’d slept maybe twenty minutes during the drive, her head lolling against my shoulder until we hit a pothole and she jolted awake again. She’d insisted on going back for the rest of her evidence. The pen camera had been enough to get Knuckles’ attention, but the ledgers and the laptop she’d mentioned were apparently what she considered the proof tying everything together. I hadn’t argued, though I’d pointed out the obvious. If Iron knew she was in that office, he’d send someone to check her place.
“I’m not an idiot,” she’d said, her voice flat. “I knew the kind of danger I walked into when I started this. I keep my stuff well hidden.”
Veda’s place was on the third floor, a walk-up with a stairwell that smelled like cigarettes and cheap air freshener. The walls were industrial beige, scuffed at shoulder height. I let Veda lead, keeping her between me and the wall, Diesel a step behind her left shoulder and Inferno on my right. At two thirty in the morning, the lights were dim, most of the illumination coming from safety lights near the floor several feet apart down the hall.
The first sign something was wrong came on the second floor. We’d cleared the landing, heading for the final flight of stairs, when we noticed a dark smear on the wall. Inferno took out a penlight, focusing the beam on the smudge. Blood trailed down the hallway, ending at the open door of an apartment three doors down from the stairs.
The door hung open on splintered hinges, the frame around the deadbolt cracked. Just inside, an elderly man lay face down in a pool of congealing blood. From the looks of it, he’d been hit in the head and dragged to where he lay now. “That’s my apartment,” Veda whispered. “And my poor neighbor.”
Someone had kicked the door in. The place beyond the doorway was dark, but I could smell the copper reek of fresh blood. Diesel and Inferno moved silently, checking the hallway around the corner in front of us while I kept Veda behind me in the hallway.
Once we were sure no one could sneak up on us, I turned to Veda. “Stay behind me,” I said, my voice low enough she had to lean in to hear. “And if I tell you to run, you run. Understand?” She nodded once, her expression tight with tension.
“They’re waitin’ for us, Griffin,” Inferno whispered.
I nodded, easing my gun from its holster. As a rule, none of us carried weapons. Given every single member of Kiss of Death had pulled a stint in prison, carrying a weapon was either a parole violation, or a felony by itself. The last thing I intended to ever do was go back to prison. Knuckles only made exceptions when he sent us into something hot. Like tonight. Which told me the level of concern he had about us going into this. I held the gun down along my leg, out of sight, and leaned close to the door. I couldn’t hear anything inside, but that didn’t mean the place was empty. “You said the ledger and the laptop are in the bedroom closet?”
“Yes.” Her voice was steady now. “Behind the shoe rack in a false bottom.”
I nodded again. “Stay behind me until I say otherwise.”
I went in first, gun up and at the ready, Veda half a step behind me. The place had been torn apart. Drawers lay on the floor, their contents dumped and scattered. Cushions had been slashed, the stuffing pulled out and tossed. The kitchen table was overturned. The living room was in shambles. The television lay shattered on the floor. No doubt they’d made some noise, but not enough to warrant neighbors calling the cops. Someone had been looking for something specific, and they’d been thorough.
I checked the apartment -- including her bedroom -- but found no one. Veda moved past me, heading straight for the closet she’d mentioned earlier. She made it to the door and reached for the handle.
I caught the movement from the corner of my eye a half-second too late. The bathroom door flew open and a man lunged into the hall. He had a gun at his hip but hadn’t drawn it. He must have been as reluctant to draw attention as we were because, instead of using his gun, he came out swinging a length of PVC pipe at Veda’s head. Which told me these weren’t low-level gang members. I have no idea how I missed him when I gave the apartment the once over, but there was no help for it now.