Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
The man sat up a little taller, scrubbing at his weary brown eyes, and waved Mason off. “I’m from Minnesota, boy. This ain’t nothing. Besides, a little cough don’t hurt nobody. It’s you men these days. You’re weak.” The man scoffed, looking as if he was about to go into another one of his tangents about today’s youth.
Mason hurried to cut that topic off at the root before it could sprout and grow. “You been out here all night?”
“Yep.”
“Seen anything I’d be interested in hearing about?” Mason asked, knowing Arnie caught his drift.
“Yeah. I’ll tell you that this neighborhood is going to shit because the cops are letting these young punks take it over. Guys coming in selling duffle bags full of bad drugs right here under y’all’s noses, and nothing’s being done.”
“I assure you that’s not the case,” Mason gritted out. “We’re trying our best, but we could use the cooperation from concerned citizens.”
“Now Atlanta’s finest calls me a citizen, huh?” Arnie snarled with his metal bat close to his side, and Pixie challenged him with her own growl.
“Shhh,” Mason whispered, scratching her assuredly between her ears.
“These drugs are bullshit. My old buddy Paul tried some of that white mess a couple weeks ago, and he ain’t been right since.”
“Did Paul say where he got it from? Who he got it from?” Mason asked, and Arnie shot him a look that said “be for real.”
“All right. Thanks, man. Be safe out here, Arnie, and you just make sure you don’t try any of that shit.” He gave Arnie another twenty dollars and turned back in the direction of his house.
“Hey, Officer.”
Mason halted and glanced over his shoulder.
“If you were looking for some activity… you might find some right now around the corner on Oakland behind the tequila bar,” Arnie said, yawning loudly as if he was just making conversation. Mason stared in the direction of the street perpendicular to the one he stood on, trying to make a decision. Arnie turned over on his side without another word, tucked his bat under him, and closed his eyes.
Conversation over.
The park between Oakland and Grant street was a place a lot of the neighborhood’s homeless congregated and set up tents to live in, Arnie being one of them. But as the drug lords moved in and took over, it forced a lot of them away from a place they’d made into the only home they could. He pulled out his cell phone to hit speed dial to dispatch but thought he’d go and take a quick peek before he made a useless call.
Mason pulled his hood low over his forehead as he made his way down the deserted street toward the dark businesses that’d long closed their doors hours ago. Mason would bet if anything was going down over there it was because of the lack of security cameras. He was almost to the end of the block when he heard the sound of a trunk door slamming. Mason gripped Pixie’s leash and hurried behind the fence that separated a yard from the alley.
“Shit,” He hissed. That was close. He slowed his breathing and squatted low in the shadows, calmly stroking Pixie’s head. “Stay quiet, girl, okay?”
He stood and carefully peeked around the fence to get a better look at what he was certain was a drug deal. Several men stood talking outside of two idling cars and one black SUV. He could smell the marijuana in the air as thick as smog while they talked in hushed tones.
“Tell him I’m not talking less than twenty… we had a fuckin’ deal. What is this?”
“We’ve been out here too long. Come on, man, let’s do this.”
Mason squinted, trying to make out features, but it was too dark. A deal was going down right now, and if that twenty meant twenty thousand, then that was a big fucking deal. “Damnit.” There wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was armed, but he also had his neighbor’s dog. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself, and neither would Jim. Mason reached into his coat and pulled out his cell and direct dialed Free.
He answered on the second ring, his voice alert and full of concern. “Mason.”
“Yeah, Free, it’s me.” He eased away from the gate so he wouldn’t be heard. “Look, there’s something big going down in my neighborhood, on Oakland Street in the alley behind Mezcalito’s.”
“I’m still in the office. One second, I’m pulling up your location for God on the satellite.”
Mason’s eyes widened, and his pulse suddenly kicked into second gear. He tried to remember to stay focused—he didn’t need to concern himself with not fucking up in front of a lieutenant. A lieutenant he’d crushed on most of his career. A lieutenant he’d wanted to impress since he graduated from the academy.