CHAPTER 38
Maverick
“Why don’t we stop for burgers on the way?” Dom says.
I shake my head. “I want to get back.”
“Well, I’m fucking hungry. We’ll hit a drive-through.”
I follow him out of the lot. Twenty minutes later we pull into a McDonald’s to grab some food. We can eat while riding so my plan is to grab a few plain cheeseburgers, nothing with lettuce or extra bullshit that will make a mess while cruising.
We end up just going in to order because the place is completely empty. While standing at the counter, Dom pulls out his phone. A strange look crosses his face. He meets my eyes. “We gotta be quick.”
I don’t ask questions while inside. Our business is nobody else’s. We each order five cheeseburgers and sodas, and thankfully the service is lightning fast. As I set my soda in my cup holder I turn to Dom. “What’s going on?”
“Pop says he wants us to go past the original meeting point.”
“Why?”
Dom shrugs. “He didn’t say. Just said Brennan called him and said that if we were still in the area that we should go by.”
I finish one burger before even getting back on the bike. “Let’s go then.”
Pottstown is about ten minutes back the way we just came from, which sucks. I don’t want to be going backwards, but Brennan must have a reason for the request. We pull out and head back toward the abandoned warehouse. As we ride by, Dom and I exchange a glance.
Feds.
Cops.
And a shit ton of action.
Black SUVs line the road. Uniformed officers move around the warehouse lot while agents in blue windbreakers with very distinct yellow lettering are standing together talking.
Holy fuck! If Brennan didn’t change locations, we’d be in cuffs right now.
Dom and I drop the hammer and speed down the road.
I pull out my phone and check the time. 12:32.
I wonder if they were lying low waiting for noon and when we didn’t show, they decided to pull in with lights on. What the hell?
We both keep checking our rear views making sure we aren’t being followed. We aren’t. For the rest of the ride, we keep exchanging glances and shaking our heads. We both know what it means. There’s only one thing it can mean. We have a fucking rat.