Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
The female cop had a sweet, round face, but while appearances could be deceiving, if she were of the mean kind, she would have made a nasty comment already. And no, someone like her would not have appreciated her partner roughly arresting a drunk man for puking on the wrong boots. It would have shown he’d become a policeman for the wrong reasons. And worse yet—lacked to see humor in the situation.
Miguel saw those very thoughts reflected in the male cop’s face, but then the man’s full mouth stretched into a line when he focused on Miguel’s brows. Back in his small town in Mexico, Miguel didn’t often interact with cops who weren’t in his mother’s pocket, but since he’d left that environment, he’d been regretful over having little skulls tattooed in a prominent spot on his face and making himself instantly recognizable for what he was. A murderer.
It might cost him dearly tonight.
The cop’s eyes darted past him, and he put his hand on the gun still embedded in the holster in a universal sign of I’m onto you.
Miguel’s stomach sank, and he captured the gaze of the woman. “How about I buy you a drink and we let bygones be bygones?”
But she’d already lost her smile and gently lifted her weapon out of the holster. Looked as though Miguel would have to drink a pitcher of acid after all.
“Open the back of your vehicle,” the male cop said as Nero stood straight and made a show of massaging his eyes, as if he had no awareness of the situation he’d gotten them into.
Miguel’s brain sizzled, in the grill of his skull, and he was torn between pulling out his gun and… just letting the police do their job. Save the kids. Put him and Nero behind bars. Or maybe just fucking shoot them to get rid of the vile scum they were.
But if that happened, Raul Moreno would keep on living, and so would his criminal empire. What was the point of cutting one of Hydra’s heads if three more would sprout in its stead?
“Vehicle?” Miguel asked, ready to play the fool, but Nero nodded, gesturing toward the van.
“Of course. I am sorry. Just got... uh, confused,” he said, rubbing his forehead.
That was Miguel’s sentence. They would not wiggle out of this without a confrontation, but whether he’d need to take the cops on with his wallet or a gun remained to be seen. At least on the other side of the road, by the quiet construction site, civilians wouldn’t be in the way if push came to shove.
Miguel licked his lips, and took out the keys, but before he could have decided how to proceed, Nero snatched them from him. “Follow me,” he said and padded to the van as if his legs were trying to go in separate directions.
The policewoman raised her chin, prompting Miguel to move before following him with her partner. Her gun might not be pressing against his back yet, but he sure as hell could sense its cold touch already. Did she notice the outline of a firearm under his vest, or did he still have that ace up his sleeve?
With his stomach full of lead, Miguel joined Nero, who pushed the key into the lock at the back and twisted it, as if they were transporting crates of fruit, not people. He was out of his goddamn mind, and they’d both pay for it in a matter of three… two… one…
Nero opened the van with a relaxed smile, which soon turned into theatrical dread. Miguel could barely breathe. Adrift, he considered running while the cops focused on Nero and the cargo, but that would have meant giving up on his chase after Raul Moreno, and what else did he have to live for without it?
The children raised their heads, as if expecting to see light through the thick cloth covering their heads, and the cops froze in a moment of utter confusion and dread.
Nero spun toward them, raising his hands. “Shit… look… you got us, okay? We stole this damn van. I mean, I thought there will be tools inside that we could sell!”
Miguel’s brain caught up to the present, and once he realized what Nero’s plan was, he latched onto it like a calf to its mom’s tit. And while expressiveness wasn’t in his nature, he reached deep inside himself to achieve a convincing performance.
“Jesus Christ, what is this?” he snapped and grabbed Nero’s bicep, painfully aware of the fear their raised voices might strike in the kids. “You said it was a safe bet!”
Nero continued the farce that was their one ticket out of this shit. “It was just left in the street unlocked and with keys in the ignition. Anyone would have taken the opportunity!”
The policewoman stepped back, speaking into her intercom, but her partner just stared at the five teenagers cuffed to the floor of the van like they were cattle. His skin was going red, and he kept swallowing while the hand that should have long grabbed his gun, shook. He was close to shitting himself, and Nero recognized this moment of shock and hesitation as the perfect time to strike.