10. The Car Wash
the car wash
. . .
Davian
Nothing made me feel older than a bunch of snot-nosed gangbangers thinking they could run shit when their balls had barely dropped.
Sadie had no idea how far below my pay grade this was.
It didn’t help that the kids had chosen one of the worst spots in the city for their headquarters. The foreclosed car wash had a huge overhead garage that took up half the parking lot, but the tiny shack of an office in the middle was falling apart at the seams. A dozen garage openings on both sides of the building allowed way too much visibility, and the boys were just asking to get ambushed.
Malcolm and Shane hung back a few meters while I rapped my fist on the office door.
The muffled voices inside went silent, but I hadn’t made out how many there were. There was no way the small box could fit more than five people comfortably.
“Who is it?” a young voice called through the door, making me sigh.
“Davian Reed,” I called back while signaling my men to retreat to the openings of the garage.
“ Reed? ” he squeaked before clearing his throat and attempting to lower his voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I just want to chat. There’s been a misunderstanding, but it shouldn’t take long.”
A bunch of shuffling broke out behind the door, and I moved my hand closer to my gun.
“Are you alone?”
My eyes briefly closed. They didn’t even have cameras watching the place? “I have some friends with me. Again, this is only a chat.”
“Okay, well… Back off a bit, man. Take twenty steps back, and we’ll come out.”
…Twenty steps? Did they think we were about to duel?
I sighed again and backed up to the edge of the garage. Sadie would never know the shot to my pride I’d taken just by being here. “All right. I’m back by the entrance.”
The door creaked open until a dark-haired teenager in a red basketball jersey and baggy shorts stepped out. Six more of similar dress and age followed him out, and they fanned out around him.
Not a single one appeared to have a weapon on them, and Malcolm snorted softly behind me.
“Whatchu want?” the leader asked, jutting his chin out. The kid was a mess of gangly limbs, with twigs for arms.
I held in another sigh, but Malcolm and Shane no doubt found this amusing.
“I’ll make this quick. You took a dog from the Happy Tails shelter last night. This is your first and final warning to give the dog back and never go within ten blocks of that shelter again. Understand?”
They all stared back blankly.
But their leader squinted as he gave me a once-over. “Yo, are you really Davian Reed? Old Seb’s son?”
“Is it true Old Seb is missing an eye?” another boy with shockingly red hair asked. “Fessy said it was gouged out during a fight.”
“I never said that,” their leader snapped back.
“I heard he pulled it out himself,” the boy beside him added.
“Why the hell would he do that?”
“The dog,” I repeated with a flat stare. “Where is it?”
Fessy looked around the garage before shrugging. “What dog? We don’t have a dog. You see a dog, Slim?”
“I don’t see no dog. You see a dog, Andre?”
“No dog here. Maybe Mr. Reed needs his eyes checked.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and prayed for patience. This was a favor for Sadie, and she probably wouldn’t want me capping a kid while I was here.
Think of Sadie.
Don’t shoot the kid.
Remember Sadie.
It took effort to force the words out instead of reaching for my gun. “Listen, kid. Trust me when I say it’ll be better for all of us if you just give the dog back. Now.”
Fessy scoffed and looked around at his crew. “What does this old man think he’s gonna do? Count to three and ground us?”
Screw it.
My hand went to the gun tucked into the back of my waistband, but the frantic beeping of a car horn made us all freeze.
Words failed me when a familiar yellow Bug came careening around the block before speeding into the parking lot.
Red clouded my vision, and my hand fell away from the gun. What the hell was Sadie doing here? How’d she gotten out of the compound? Vince was supposed to be watching her.
The car swerved to a sudden stop, and Sadie popped out of the driver’s side with both hands gripping a large broom. I watched—dumbfounded—as she charged toward the garage with her weapon held high and pink hair tousled by the breeze.
“I’m not leaving here without my dog!” she yelled at Fessy and his crew, brandishing the broom. “Where is he?”
A determined scowl pinched her face—more endearing than intimidating—and I swear my goddamn soul floated out of my body.