The Unbreakables (BWHM)

Chapter 11

"I know but this time it's different. By her asking about the Son's, she becomes the Son's business to deal with as they see fit. And nobody makes inquiries into the Son's business without having problems for it."

"Get me the info I need to track this chick down and you can tell your old lady she can add Prada to her shopping list." I replied.

I drained my glass again and slammed it down on the table.

"Alright, I'm on it." He said, with a, it's your ass, shrug.

Tiger called over the Philippine dancer, with a swaying twenty.  I stood as she approached no longer in the mood to be dry humped. I had things that had to be considered so I needed solitude.

"How soon do you think you'll have what I need?" I asked, tossing two bills on the table.

"Meet back here in twenty-four hours I will have something by then. Just make sure you have something too."  Tiger replied and snatched the bills up off the table and slid them into the pocket inside of his coat.

I nodded and then left him at the table to drool over the dancer. After I reclaimed my car I drove around for a while before I finally decided to head home.  About five minutes into my drive I realized that I was being followed by an all-black sedan with limo tint. I changed directions not wanting the person following me to know that I was on to him. I eased into the parking lot of the convenient store. The parking lot was empty and there was only one clerk standing behind the counter.

Before I got out of my car, I opened up my glove compartment. I kept my thirty-eight there. Sticking the gun in the waist line of my pants, slid from the car. As I walked in the store I asked the clerk where the bathroom was. The bored overweight cashier pointed me into the direction of the men's room. I locked the door behind me and climbed on top of the toilet. I struggled with the bathroom window for a minute until the window slid up halfway.

That was all I needed to get my body through the window. Landing lightly on the balls of my feet, I eased around the building taking care to keep to the shadows. I continued forward and crouched in a tiny crawl spot that was nestled between bushes and the side of the store building. It gave me a perfect view of the car that was parked across the street. I remained still while I waited to see what the occupants of the car were going to do when they realized I had been in the store for way too long. The minutes ticked by, but I didn't move. After forty-five minutes passed the car door to the black Sedan slowly opened. I took my gun from the waist band; cocked the hammer back and took aim at the passenger door.

My heart pumped with adrenaline. If I was unseasoned it would have been hard for me to keep my gun steady. Over the years I learned how to channel adrenaline and make it work for me. I watched one leg appear cautiously from the passenger door. When the passenger was sure the coast was clear, the person fully emerged from the car. I readied to squeeze the trigger but released it when recognition flared in my mind. It was Martinez, a detective from the narcotics unit.

What the hell was Martinez up to? I slid my gun back in my waist band. Martinez took his gun out of his holster, crossed the street and approached the store. Assured his attention was on the store, I eased out of my crouch spot and bounded across the street. Continuing to stick to the shadowed spots that the street lights didn't shine on. Once I made it to the Sedan I withdrew my gun, and yanked open the back door on the driver's side. I slid in the seat, and placed my gun behind the right ear of Willoughby, Martinez's partner.

"Willoughby, what kind of dumb fuck leaves the car doors unlocked on a steak out?" I asked.

Reaching over the left side of the driver's seat, I took the gun out of the holster that was strapped to his side. I removed the clip, letting it drop on the floor of the backseat.