Faster (Stark Ink, #3) (11 page)

She held her breath, heart hammering in her chest, as she split the two large vehicles and zipped between them. The panel truck slowed, as though the driver was unsure if he was the one being honked at and why.

The side mirror of the Honda nearly scraped the dirty, scarred side of the panel truck. Ava had mere inches to spare. She squeezed her eyes shut at the last second as she hurtled out from between the two huge vehicles, remaining unscathed. The panel truck skidded to a stop behind her but she left him in the dust as she sped toward the highway.

Evening traffic was rough, though. The highway was nearly bumper to bumper with people just getting off work. Ava revved her Honda’s engine impatiently, waiting for another light cycle. She snatched her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.

She was still more than halfway to her destination, and the clock was still ticking away. She now had less than twenty minutes. She shoved the phone back into her pocket and yanked on the bike’s handlebars. She squeezed past a Toyota and up onto the sidewalk. Behind her, someone shouted angrily.

Ava paid them no attention as she sped down the mostly empty sidewalk toward the intersection up ahead. She dodged a sidewalk sign and took a sharp right at the corner. The side street was far less crowded.

The front wheel of her bike slammed back down onto the pavement and she took to the road again, weaving in between cars. There was a neighborhood on the other side of the highway. She could pass through it on her way across town.

Two more turns and she was farther away from the city’s center. Office buildings gave way to two-story houses with decent sized lots, a neighborhood nicer than her own. She gunned the engine and tore through the neighborhood. No one was home yet in this little burg.

Or so she thought.

She’d kicked the Honda up to almost 50 miles per hour, well above the posted speed limit, to shave off precious seconds. Halfway through to the other side, a large SUV backed out of its driveway, catching Ava off guard.

She swerved instantly to avoid being run over. This time her mirror did connect. It crunched against a car parked on the other side of the street. Ava barely heard plastic and glass shatter through her helmet. She risked a split second look down and saw her side mirror hanging limply. Spider cracks covered the once reflective surface.

Ignoring it, and the driver of the SUV who was now laying on the horn, Ava threaded her way through the sleepy subdivision, a bit slower in light of the circumstances. Her heart slammed into her chest and she felt almost dizzy. Street racing was dangerous; she’d never done it. She wouldn’t have risked it. Blood roared in her ears as she forced the needle of her Honda’s speedometer back up. 

She cursed herself. And Clint. And the fucking Buzzards.

She sailed over a second set of railroad tracks that served as an unofficial barrier between this neighborhood and the next. As Ava sped along, homes got smaller, grass got taller.

She slowed, briefly, to check the phone again. She was three streets from her destination. She found the street easily and spotted the address, which was a run-down house with weeds that came up to her knees.

She parked the bike, hefted the bag onto her shoulder and sprinted for the front steps. A broken screen door leaned drunkenly on its hinges. Ava flung it open and banged on the heavy wooden front door.

No one answered so she knocked again, more forcefully this time.

“Fuck off!” someone yelled from inside.

“I— ” Ava started to shout back, but hesitated. What should she say? ‘Special delivery’ seemed somehow entirely inappropriate. She banged again on the door. “Hook sent me,” she replied and held her breath.

As she stood in front of the door, she realized that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. It wasn’t exactly bulletproof.

She glanced around nervously. There were cars here and there throughout the neighborhood, but no one out and about. No dogs, either. She raised her hand to knock again.

Before she could, the door swung open. A tall, thin guy with a scraggly beard and matching hair blinked out at her. He squinted, then smiled at her.

“Heeey,” he drawled.

Ava glared at him. She slid the pack down her arm and swung it at him. It hit his chest with a light thud.

“You’re supposed to take this,” she informed him. “And... and...” She glanced around again. This time she lowered her voice, “And give me the money.”

He sniffed and looked down at the dingy backpack. “Well, come inside.”

Ava frowned at him and bit her lower lip.

He rubbed the back of his head lazily. “I don’t keep it all in one place, baby girl,” he told her. “I need some time to get it.”

Ava bristled. “I don’t have time!” she snapped. “I need it now!”

He grinned at her. “You need
something
now. That’s for sure.” He opened the door wider. “Come on in. Hang out.”

Ava didn’t want to, but she realized that this guy needed supervision. If she let him take the pack without giving her the money, she might be here for a long, long time. Too long. Or, she thought with a shudder, he might take the pack and then just lock the door.

Reluctantly, she stepped inside the darkened house.

Once inside, he closed the door after her and locked it. When she looked up at him questioningly, he merely shrugged and grinned. “Can’t be too careful,” he told her.

Thankfully, he wandered away, toward the kitchen off to the right.

Ava hovered near the door, prepared to bolt if she had to. If she didn’t get the money, though, could she risk going back to the warehouse empty handed? Maybe it was better to go the police.

Ava chewed her lower lip nervously as she considered it. The problem was, only a few Buzzards were even
at
the warehouse. She wasn’t sure just how big the MC was, but she knew it was fairly large, having seen them riding as a group around town occasionally. So what if RCPD arrested just those few? There were still a ton more, and who was to say that Hook (or even Clint—dirty asshole) wouldn’t send some guys to her house in retribution?

She glanced worriedly into the kitchen again. She needed this to happen. Fast. Not making the delivery simply wasn’t an option.

In the dim light, despite the dark sheets hung over all the windows in place of actual curtains, she could make out the messy kitchen table. There were baggies strewn all over it and even a scale in the middle of the flat surface.

She stifled a groan. She couldn’t even be surprised, really. She’d known she wasn’t delivering Girl Scout cookies.

Ava watched in horror as he opened the pack and pulled out a huge block, saran-wrapped. The glint of green through the clear plastic was unmistakable. She had just delivered a block, or a ‘brick’ she supposed, of weed.

Make that two, she realized, as he pulled out a second.

Ava shuddered. If she’d been pulled over, or been tagged by that SUV, where would she be right now? Handcuffed and waiting for Pop and Adam to bail her out, that’s where. Would they, even? Or would they leave her in jail indefinitely to teach her a lesson?

She watched as he rifled through cabinets, drawers, and even the damn refrigerator, gathering up wads of cash. He grinned at her. “Green for green,” he told her.

Ava couldn’t manage a smile.

He counted, slowly, as she danced back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I’ve got to get back,” she declared, inching toward the front door.

“What’s the rush?”

She didn’t answer, preferring not to think about the image of Hook holding a knife to Clint’s throat. Or the fact that her throat might be next on the man’s To-Do list.

He re-packed the bag, carefully, which was almost comical given the Disaster Area-like status of the rest of the house. The living room was littered with beer cans and overflowing ashtrays. Ava chose not to look too closely at what kind of cigs had been stubbed out.

He came back out of the kitchen, holding the pack out to her. She tried to take it but at the last second he pulled it away playfully.

“I have to go,” Ava told him, more than a little irritated.

“Stay a while. Got some Kush, just cleaned my bong. Take a load off,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “Take a toke.”

Ava reached for the money but again he moved it out of her reach. She glared at him. “
Hook
wants the money.
Now
. And if I don’t get right back to him, he’s going to come looking for me.” She looked at this scrawny, dopey dude and figured his association with the MC began and ended with what he called ‘green for green.’ This guy couldn’t handle himself. Hell, even Ava could bring him down with a well-placed kick and a couple of jabs.

She leveled her gaze at him. “Do you
want
Hook to show up here?”

Her impression of Dopey was that he was an idiot, probably just trying to earn enough to cover his own habit. It probably just so happened that the MC had access to Dopey’s product of choice. Ava’s first impression of Hook, however, was that he was more than a little bit unstable and definitely violent. He was a creepy douchebag, too. She hated even saying the man’s name, but she hoped it was enough to convince this guy to give her what she came for.

Dopey hesitated, then shook his head vehemently. It was the first time since she’d knocked on the door that he looked actually concerned. He finally held out the pack. “No,” he grumbled. “Definitely not.”

Ava slung the backpack onto her shoulders as she whirled for the door. Without waiting for Dopey’s assistance, she flipped the deadbolt and surged out of the house. Her boots thudded on the warped boards of the porch.

“Next time you’re staying a while!” Dopey called after her.

The screen door banged behind her. She hopped back on the Honda and brought the engine to life. She didn’t have time to count the money, which didn’t really matter since she didn’t know what the going rate was for that much weed anyway. She sped off, back the way she’d come, and prayed that it was all there.

A
va skidded into the small lot outside the warehouse and nearly overturned her bike trying to jump off. The heavy pack slammed against her back as she sprinted for the front door. She twisted the knob and yanked hard. Inside, she was relieved to see that Clint was still in one piece. So were Tweedledee and Tweedledumb, though neither one looked particularly comfortable. Clint actually sighed loudly as she stumbled inside.

Before she could say anything, Haze grabbed the strap of the pack and lifted it off her shoulders. Ava didn’t struggle. She was glad to be rid of the damn thing. In fact, she’d have liked nothing more than to turn around and leave all these assholes far, far behind. One look at Hook’s face told her that wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re a minute-and-a-half late,” Hook announced as Haze rifled through the pack.

Ava bristled. “Traffic in midtown is horrible!” she argued. “I nearly wiped out getting back here! I hit a parked car! And you should tell your dealer to just hand over the money, not waste time making small talk!”

Hook paused and cocked his head at her. “Dealer,” he repeated slowly.

Ava pressed her lips together for a moment. Clearly, she wasn’t supposed to know too much. Hook hadn’t even told her what she’d been carrying. “He invited me inside,” she replied. “There was shit all over his place.”

She felt a large hand on her arm and she jerked her head around, startled. The largest one, Haze, was glaring down at her. He raised his other hand, finger in her face. “You don’t ever go inside,” he growled. “You got that? You stay outside, make the delivery, get your ass back.
Do not go inside
.”

Ava raised her chin. “I— ”

“Late is late!” Hook declared loudly. As everyone watched, he grabbed Clint and raised the knife.

“No!” Ava screamed. She started to move forward, but Haze grabbed her from behind.

“Stay back,” the large man whispered in her ear.

The knife sliced through the air and then through Clint’s pasty white skin. He doubled over, bellowing in pain. Blood splashed onto the concrete floor. “Fuck!” he yelled, clutching his cheek. He struggled to right himself. “What the fuck?” he shouted at Hook.

Hook merely shrugged and wiped the dirty blade on his jeans. “Just showing you, all of you,” he said, glancing around the warehouse, “that I’m a man of my word.” He looked back at Clint and grinned. “You needed a little edge anyway. This is a tough business. It’s not for pussies.” He jerked his chin at Ava. “Even the pussy’s not a pussy, are you, peaches?”

Ava was pressed against Haze as his large arms were wrapped around her. She couldn’t move. She could barely catch her breath.

“Here,” said Haze as he pressed something into her hand. It was a wad of bills. He pushed the stack into her palm and closed her fingers over it gently. “It was a good run,” he told her.

“She’ll do,” Hook declared as he put away his blade and started for the door. As he passed Haze, he took the rest of the cash and pocketed it. He winked at Ava. “Rest up, peaches. We’ll have another run for you soon enough.”

Ava watched as the Buzzards filed back out of the warehouse as quietly as they’d entered in the first place. The last one, Haze, glared at her, though, on the way out the door.

She frowned back at him.

What the hell was his problem? If he wanted someone else for the job, he should just fucking
hire
one. She didn’t want this job, anyway. She’d never asked for it. She’d had it sprung on her with no possible way to say hell no.

She couldn’t rail against the Buzzards. That was most likely a one-way ticket to the hospital, or maybe even a shallow grave. She loved the Badlands, but she didn’t want to end up getting her bones picked clean by
actual
buzzards. When the door clicked closed, Ava turned instead to the one person she
could
blame. The one who’d set her up for this bullshit.

She whirled and glared at Clint. Fury rose inside her as she looked at his bloody face. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted as she picked up a wrench and hurled it at him.