“Yeah?” asked Lopez, as he stepped away from the wall. “You sure that’s a good idea? It ain’t like we got a lot—with even more people, everything we got’ll get thinner and thinner…”
"That's why we gotta get more, as much as we can. Besides, if we have more guys in our crew, we’ll be able to bring in more, right? And do more.”
"Do more? You thinkin’ about settin’ up a chop shop?"
Darien looked up and leveled a long-suffering gaze on the convict. "Yeah. I'm gonna open up a chop shop for people who can't drive. No electricity means no gas, numb nuts. I'm looking to expand the crew so we can take over this place."
"Wait—you mean take over the whole neighborhood?" asked Lopez. A wolfish grin spread across his face. "I think that's a great idea. In fact—I think you should let me and Cisco start. Now."
"Is that so?" asked Darien. He let the paper in his hand fall back to the clipboard, put his hands on his hips, and waited.
“Check it out,” Lopez said excitedly. “Last night—we hit that house over on Archer Street. There was a chick…she’s got a couple kids…”
“There’s lots of people with kids in this neighborhood.”
“Well, we've seen her walking around before. Went to that short redhead's house."
Darien nodded. "What about her?"
"Well," the convict said as he licked his lips, "she doesn't look like she's starving, if you know what I mean? Plump and ripe for the taking. We could start with her. Got a nice house too, probably got all kinds of stuff in there…”
Darien felt the heat rise up his neck. He stepped closer to Lopez. "We’re not going to go out and start kidnapping single moms. We’ll work the empty houses—and that’s it. Understand?"
Lopez glanced over his shoulder, then narrowed his eyes at Darien. “Me and Cisco ain’t gonna be patient forever.” He raised a finger to Darien’s face. “You best check that attitude around us. That big kid you drag around ain’t gonna be with you all the time." He rolled his neck and flexed his shoulders to display just how much bigger he was compared to Darien.
“Is that a fact?" Darien asked slowly.
Lopez nodded and held Darien's gaze with a steely glare of his own. "That's a fact."
Darien hated physical confrontation, but sometimes an example needed to be made. He whipped up the arm holding the clipboard and slapped Lopez across the face, which elicited a grunt of pain. He turned the momentum from the blow into another attack and rolled his shoulder right into the convict's solar plexus. Lopez gasped and crashed into the wall, pinned. As Darien stepped back quickly to avoid the bigger man's arms as he tried to embrace him in a bear hug. He drew the pistol confiscated from the gun safe downstairs and placed the barrel under Lopez’s chin. The bigger man froze, arms spread wide in supplication.
"Here’s another fact,” Darien growled, “we’re going to do it my way, because I said so. Got a problem with that?" Darien pulled back the hammer with his thumb. A simple click had never sounded so full of menace.
Lopez closed his eyes and swallowed, which caused his Adam's apple to brush against the cold steel barrel. "No problem at all,” he whispered.
“We cool?" asked Darien. “We on the same page now?"
Lopez tried to nod, and found his chin blocked by the unyielding barrel of the pistol. "We cool," he muttered.
"Good. Now go get ready—take the two new guys with you tonight. And this time, try to find some more food, will you?"
Darien stepped back and holstered the pistol, cleared his throat, and picked up the clipboard from the ground. The convict rubbed his throat, gave one more defiant glare in Darien's direction, and left the room without another word.
Darien had just gotten a solid count on all the shaving cream cans when someone knocked on the door frame. He put the pencil down, closed his eyes, and sighed. "Now what?"
"Oh, I'm sorry…” Harriet stuttered. “I-I didn't mean to bother you."
Darien spun on his heel and apologized. "No, it…it’s...I'm sorry, I just hate conflict and just had to enforce some ground rules with one of my…associates."
Harriet nodded and tucked a lock of golden hair behind one ear. "I did notice the terrible mood your…associate…was in as he came down the stairs. Is everything all right?"
Darien nodded. "It’s under control." He tucked the clipboard under one arm, stepped over to her, and took her hand in both of his. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Spalding?"
She blushed prettily and swatted away his hands. "Oh, go on with you—look at me blushing like a schoolgirl."
"Well and why not? You’re as pretty as one," Darien said. He checked himself quickly. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean—”
Harriet looked at him for a long moment. "It's okay," she said softly.
Darien held her gaze, then cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. “So…what brings you by?"
"Oh," Harriet said, as if she'd forgotten. "I wanted to give you the updated list of empty houses," she said. She slipped her hand into one form-fitting pocket along her thigh and removed a neatly folded piece of paper. She looked down before handing it over. "I can personally vouch that every one of these houses is abandoned. The people who own them are either on vacation, or never came home from work last Friday."
Darien unfolded the paper and looked at the list of addresses. It was a collection of random numbers and streets in the neighborhood—no significant pattern leapt off the page at him. That was good. "Nice work, thank you. This'll make things a lot easier."
Harriet looked at the partially sorted pile of looted food, paper goods, and supplies. "Half this room is full of
