I told Carlos the basics of my plan, and no more. I knew he’d flip if he had any clue just how crazy my idea was. I lied to him about where it would go down to protect him. He’d be there by my side every step of the way if he knew the truth, and that just wasn’t a risk I could take. Most people are afraid to die alone; I’m afraid to die any other way.
“Don’t do any of that crazy white boy shit, guey. I owe you.” No, he owed Carter, and that’s what got us into this situation. Twelve five, how could Carlos get in so deep without me knowing? I already knew the answer to that: he was afraid I would judge him. As if I could. A couple months ago he approached me about moving product for some extra flow. I didn’t react well; I told him that I didn’t spend so much time fighting with the trash pushing drugs just to become one of them. It was a private war, and he was asking me to work for the enemy. I would die for C-los, and I would kill for him, but that was something I just couldn’t do.
So he went and did it behind my back, apparently. And just when we were recovering from the strain of him dating Shelly after I broke up with her. We would have to talk about this later, but first I had to save his ass from the consequences of his actions. What choice did I have? He was my friend; it was my job to bail him out. That’s what friends were for.
I kept telling myself that all day as I prepared for that night.
The fence was amateur stuff. Chain length, six feet tall and only three strands of barb wire? Child’s play, I was over it like I See Stars without Carter’s boys noticing a damn thing. That’s straight skills, because I sure as hell saw and heard them. Freaking wankstas, no clue how to be low key.
“Imma street ninja, straight up baller assassin.” Oh dear god, the ironic fact that I heard the boast from one of them made it that much harder not to laugh at these dumbass thug wannabes.
“Shut the fuck up, and get to work.” Probably the smartest thing you’ve ever said, Carter. You probably had plenty of practice saying that to little boys, you sick bastard. Family money may have protected you from the cops, but having a rich family wouldn’t stop a knife from sliding into your rib cage. If I had known who you were at that party…
I was getting off track, forgetting my objective. My mission wasn’t to kill Carter, though I would be doing the world a favor. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a temptation, but that’s just not me. I told myself I wasn’t like them. I was just fighting fire with fire. Sometimes I even believed it.
The storage complex was outdated, the only place in town that hadn’t switched to electronic locks and keypads. They still had the old school padlocks protecting the possession of their clients. It was shady, no doubt, and the lack of cameras made it ideal for the Brown Boys to use it for their stash. It was probably Shelly that told Carter which units they used. My little spy, she had changed so much since we were kids. I didn’t really believe she was sleeping around with all this trash, I refused to, but I hated that she was even associating with them. It was something the two of us could never come to terms with while we were dating. She saw herself as part of this world, and I hated every aspect of it. She thought we were from different worlds, and I wish it was that simple. We were from the same world; she was just more content to occupy it while I was determined to change it or die trying.
The tools wish they knew something about stealth. There were six of them, all darker than me, and one of them was practically a mountain. Still, this scrawny white boy stalked them predator style. They had no clue. Cookie was my first target, not because he had the most retarded nickname in existence, but because I knew he was slow and weak. We had scrapped just last month; I knew I could take him. I waited for him to break the lock and struck while he was pushing the door up. I caught him a choke hold from behind with my left arm while forcing the air out of his lungs with a knee to the stomach and my right hand held over his mouth and nose to stop him from breathing or making a sound. It was over less than a minute, he slumped to the concrete without resistance.
On the shows and movies, that would have been enough to keep him out for half an hour at least. Television lies, I’ve been on the giving and receiving end of enough knock outs to know that. I had maybe two minutes before he woke up confused and with one hell of a headache, if I was lucky. I used plastic ties to bind his hands and feet, and gagged him with his own sock. If he wasn’t such a bastard I might have felt bad about shoving that rank ass thing into his mouth. I’d heard he had worse things in there, anyway. After he was out of the equation I dropped the door back down and wedged the tire iron dropped by Cookie into the lock. The mountain man was next, he was obviously the biggest threat and I’d feel safer knowing he was out of the picture.
I hadn’t expected him to be patrolling the area, though, that was actually showing some kind of common sense. I saw him a second before he saw me, and I knew my cover was blown.
“He’s over here!” I knew that voice. But that made no sense; what the hell was going on?
“Carlos, what the fuck?!” He said nothing in response, and I just stood there like a dumbass in shock as he raised his gun and pulled the trigger.