Chapter 8 #3
“How did you know she was selling coke?”
“The emojis she used. Snowflake for coke. Bomb for high potency. Cash for—” He shrugs. “I’m sure you know what that’s for.”
“So you responded to her post? How did you know it was legit?”
“When I responded, she sent me a picture of the product.”
“On the app?”
Margolin looks at me like I’m an idiot. “No. Not on the app. Do you think I want to go to jail? I gave her my burner number. And I’m assuming she sent it from hers.
Then she gave me her address. Told me to pay half up front, and she’d give me a deal on the rest. Late bills, and all that.
So I agreed. Sent her the money and headed over to her house to pick up the product. Except the bitch never gave it to me.”
I’m stunned by his stupidity on so many levels.
First, agreeing to a drug deal based on an anonymous post that might or might not be from undercover police.
Then sending money blindly, based on a photo that could have come from anywhere.
And finally, breaking into a strange woman’s house because he thought she stole drugs from him.
“Fuck,” Webb mutters. “What a moron.”
“Did you ever consider that the post didn’t come from her?” I ask. “That someone gave you the wrong address because they never had any intention of handing the drugs over?”
“And how did you know the police couldn’t track the post?” Indy asks.
Margolin turns to look at Indy. “The posts disappear after an hour. So the police couldn’t find it.”
After a few seconds, I lower my gun so it’s aimed at his chest. “Alright. You’ve done a decent job answering my questions so far. But I want to know something else.”
Desperate hope lights his gaze. “What? Anything.”
“Did the person who made the deal tell you their name? Or did they just give you an address?”
“She said her name was Melissa. She even described herself, so I’d know it was her. Curly hair. Short. Nice tits—”
This time Webb punches Margolin in the stomach. “Shut your mouth,” he snaps.
As the newest information sinks in, a sick feeling churns in my stomach.
This wasn’t a case of mistaken identity.
Or someone giving a random wrong address because they had no intention of selling anything to this asshole.
No, Margolin was sent there intentionally.
And whoever did it had to know it wouldn’t end well.
“Are you going to let me go?” Margolin asks. He shoots a pleading look at me. “I told you everything. I’m sorry I hurt your girl. I just got so angry...”
My muscles shake from the effort of restraining my rage. Part of me—the vengeful part—wants to tell Webb and Indy to leave me alone with him.
But he’s restrained. He gave me the information I asked for. I already broke his nose. And willingness to break the law or not, I’d rather not get into the habit of beating the shit out of helpless people.
Plus, I have things to do back at Melissa’s. Things like meeting with the team and planning our strategy from here.
And seeing her. Making sure she’s okay. Even though Levi stayed back to protect her, I know she won’t tell him if she’s in pain. If she’s scared. Has she even slept, or has she been lying awake, worrying?
“Please be careful,” she told me before we left. “I know you’re this badass Special Forces guy and all, but you could still get hurt.” Then she hugged me hard. “Just be careful, Tyler. Okay?”
Suddenly, I want to be done with all this.
I want to get back to Melissa.
I want to hug her. Sit beside her in bed until she falls asleep. Stroke her hair when she has a nightmare, because I’ve found it soothes her. And once I’m absolutely sure she’s okay, then I’ll deal with the rest of it.
Lowering my gun to my side, I meet Margolin’s frightened gaze.
“I’ve got good news and bad. The bad news is, the police are going to hear about everything.
They’re going to receive a recording of your confession.
They’re going to find out about the drugs you have in your house.
And the illegal shit I found on your computer. ”
Margolin gasps. “No. You can’t.”
“I can. And I will. You’re going to call the police and tell them you want to turn yourself in. Remorse for what you did, and all. And you’re not going to bring us into it.”
“No. I won’t,” he retorts, shaking his head. “You can’t make me.”
“I can, because you haven’t heard the good news yet. Do you want to know what it is?”
Margolin hesitates. “What?”
“The good news is, I’m not going to kill you. If you do what I say, that is. But if you don’t… I’ll find you. And trust me, I’m very good with computers. No matter where you hide, I’ll track you down. Then I’ll kill you.”
He gulps. “How do I know I can believe you?”
I flash him a predatory smile. “I found you once already. Do you really think I won’t find you again?”
He stares at me for a second before shaking his head. “No. I’ll go along with it.”
“Good,” I tell him. “That’s the first smart thing you’ve done.” Then to Webb and Indy, I add, “Let’s wrap this up. I’m ready to go home.”
It’s only when we’re on the way back to Melissa’s—after anonymously sending all the evidence to the police and leaving Margolin trussed up in his house, waiting for them—that I realize something interesting.
When I said home, I wasn’t thinking about my apartment at HQ. I was thinking about getting back to Mel.