Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
That sits between us like a tombstone. He stares at me with genuine surprise before his face slowly sinks and he shakes his head.
“That’s how it is then.”
“Tell me it wasn’t you.”
“Fuck you, Nolan.”
“Tell me.”
“It wasn’t me. I didn’t rat her out and I didn’t kill her mother. You forget, I did time too. That shit came down on my head too.”
“You did half the time I did.”
“My hands were cleaner. Motherfucker, are you for real right now?”
“You’re ambitious, I get it. You don’t like being second-in-command to me. Maybe you did some things back in the day to try to make me look bad so you could be the one to take over when I went down, but it backfired. I can almost understand and respect it if you did. But tell me the truth now and don’t make me find out the hard way.”
Eric shoves open the car door. “Fuck you, Nolan.”
“You’re really going to walk away?”
He pulls his gun and for a second, I think he’s about to kill me. But instead, he makes sure it’s loaded and turns to the brewery. “I’m going in there and stealing those guns. You can come if you want, but be careful, I might stab you in the back.” He stalks off and I have to jump out to catch up with him. I text Alex on the way, letting him know that we’re going, and make sure my own weapon’s loaded.
I don’t feel settled. He denied it but I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. Eric’s a good actor—he’s clever and always in control of himself—but I’ve also known him for years and years, and I can see through his bullshit. I don’t think he’s pretending to be upset, but that also doesn’t prove he’s innocent.
I might be walking into this job with an armed and angry traitor.
Eric goes inside like a man on fire. The doors open into a warehouse that was converted into a brewery. It smells bitter and bready, like hops and yeast. There’s a bar on the left with stools and tables around it, and a big wall with huge windows separating the drinking room from the brewing room with all the big metal equipment. A few guys sit around the bar, all of them looking like they’ve been drinking for a few hours, and they’re so drunk they don’t react right away as Eric starts yelling and waving his gun around. He has to slam the barrel into the bartender’s face to get them to pay attention.
They’re all ORB. Soldiers, low-level guys like Jaxson, but definitely ORB. Once they realize what’s going down, they get really quiet. I shout at them, get them on the floor with their hands above their heads as the doors open and Alex and Tom come inside. They give me a nod and hurry through the door leading into the brewing room.
Eric paces around like a panther. He kicks one guy in the stomach and throws a bottle at another. They’re quaking, terrified, and I’m worried Eric’s about to start shooting. “There’s cash in the drawer,” the bartender says through a mouth filled with blood. “Take the money, just don’t hurt anyone.”
“Fuck you,” Eric says and hits him again, knocking the poor bastard to the concrete floor. “And fuck all of you. Anyone moves and you’re dead. I’m not in the mood tonight and I’d love an excuse to pull the fucking trigger.”
I watch Tom and Alex through the window. They open the first big tank and instead of a torrent of half-fermented beer, they reach inside and start pulling out ammunition. Boxes of bullets, full magazines. The next container has actual guns, rifles and pistols and shotguns. They pull out more guns than I expected and an excited pulse runs down my spine.
Turns out Jaxson wasn’t lying, the bastard.
The last container spills beer everywhere and they have to close it again before it soaks the weapons.
When that’s done, they carry two big duffels packed with the stuff. We’ve been inside for maybe five minutes at most and I’m ready to get the fuck out before this goes wrong. “Back outside,” I bark and gesture at Eric. “Hurry up. We’ve got to move.”
“Hold on,” Eric says, staring at a side hallway. “Someone’s in there.”
“Eric,” I snarl but he’s already hurrying off. He kicks open the door and shouts, and I curse, going after him. The ORB guys leap to their feet and run for the exit, but Tom’s there to knock one on his ass and to scare the living hell out of the other until they’re back on the floor with their hands up.
I find Eric standing outside of the bathrooms. He’s trembling mad and so red I think he might go into cardiac arrest. “What the fuck is happening?”