Every moment that I waited in my hiding place, close to the warehouse, felt like an hour. I’d rather just run in shooting than stand around like this. It was torturous, but it was the right thing to do. I held off on communicating with any of the other men, not wanting to take the chance of alerting our enemies who stood guard at the back of the warehouse. I could tell they were lax in their duties by the way they played on their phones and chatted with each other. Neither of them were looking out into the night, watching for people to approach. If they were my men, they would be severely punished and forced to start reearning my trust by doing the lowest jobs I could assign them.
Finally, the gunrunners arrived with their crates of weapons. Landry’s guards made only a cursory check of their identities and didn’t even look at the goods. Those crates could be filled with Nerf guns or nothing at all, though the men were doing a convincing job of making them look heavy. They entered the warehouse. As planned, another excruciatingly long five minutes passed before Lance texted me that he was going in.
Lance strolled up to the door wearing a blond wig, sunglasses, loud Hawaiian shirt, khaki cargo pants, and fucking Crocs on his feet. How the hell did he think he was going to run in those? Arrogant bastard. Tony was perched on his shoulder wearing a little t-shirt as usual. God only knew what it said. He strolled right up to the guards.
They stepped in front of the door, attempting to look menacing, but I knew Lance could take them out in seconds.
“I’m here about buying some guns,” he said far louder than necessary.
The taller of the two men stepped forward. “You got the wrong place. Move on.” He laid a hand on Lance, trying to push him back.
That was a mistake.
The man screamed when Tony bit his hand. Lance grabbed his arm, wrenched it behind him, and brought a knife to his throat. The other man looked confused as hell. He didn’t even pull his weapon.
“Open the door,” Lance directed the shorter man.
When he didn’t respond, Lance kicked him in the gut while keeping hold of the taller man. Then he shoved the man he was holding to the ground, wrenched open the door, and entered. The whole time, Tony never left his shoulder.
The man Lance had kicked started to stand, and the other man rushed to the door. One after the other they crashed back to the ground. Giorgio had taken them out, and thanks to his silencer, I doubted anyone in the warehouse was the wiser about it.
I moved toward the door, knowing once they saw me, the others would emerge as well.
I moved slowly and cautiously as I listened in. Lance was wearing a mic, and I could hear every word he said.
“Like I told you, I’m here to make a purchase.”
“This ain’t no store. You need to move on,” an unidentified man said.
“Is that any way to greet a customer?” He was playing the obnoxious buffoon well, but I knew he’d be observing everything, taking in details no dumb-as-fuck asshole would notice. Could he pull this off?
The man who’d confronted him spoke again. “I’m giving you ten seconds to leave before I put a bullet in your chest.”
“Hey. No need for that. I’m just a man who wants to buy some big guns. That’s all. I heard about your little operation through the grapevine.”
“From who?” Now it was Clark speaking, playing his role just like he’d agreed to.
“I have my ways. I know other things about you too. Like the brothers you put in the swamp last month. The alligators didn’t do such a good job on them. They must not have been hungry that night because parts of those bodies washed up on shore. I know somebody that kept them as a souvenir.”
Clark had killed men and dumped them in the swamp. The rest of the tale was made up, though Dax’s brother, Ambrose, had found several human bones that had turned up on shore.
“Want me to take him out, boss?” one of the men asked.
“Hold up. Tell me more about this person. How trustworthy could he be if he’s stealing bones from a swamp and not contacting the police?” Clark was rolling with the crazy. I had to give him that.
Lance snorted. “The police? This guy don’t mess with any kind of law enforcement, and he doesn’t give a fuck what happens to people out there as long as they stay away from him.”
That was our signal to move in. I motioned for my cousins and the men who were with them to move around back. While Lance had everyone’s attention, they would come in and ambush them.
“Hey, how do we know you’re not a cop?” another man asked.
I tensed.
“I don’t like cops anymore than my friend, but I do like guns, and I’m here to buy some.”
“What’s your name, Mr. Not A Cop?” That challenge came from the first man who’d spoken.
“You don’t need to know my name, Mr. Landry.” My best guess was that the speaker was Timon Landry, Clark’s youngest brother and the biggest hothead in the family.
“I say I do because I think you’re lying, and I like to know the name of every man who lies to me.”
“Put the gun down, Landry,” Lance said. A second later, I heard a shot followed quickly by another. My heart skipped a beat. Please let Lance be all right.
I rushed in. Lance was holding his arm. Blood leaked through his fingers, but he was alive
