Page 134 of Dock

The driver keys in the code allowing the gate to begin moving when all of a sudden, loud sirens invade the area distracting random onlookers who may have been clocking our behaviors instead of minding their own business.

We use the passing firetruck and ambulance wailing to disappear onto the property, them unaware that the noise from both provides cover to the bikes of my fellow Misfits.

Beauty of having someone with a patch in every aspect of community service.

We both park in the employees only lot – far enough away to avoid immediate betrayal – prior to me being given an irrefutable hand signal to leave my weapon behind.

It sits on my seat along with the helmet while the duffle makes its way into my arms.

Our trek is longer than expected leaving me to calculate that they’re doing this to lead me into a more secure location – with heavy backup – or one with less cameras that will need to be scrubbed.

Either way, they’re banking on an ambush.

Though.

Is it really an ambush if I can spot your bullshit coming?

Once we arrive in the middle of the manicured playground area, the man I’ve been primarily dealing with stops, spurring me to do the same.

He turns so we’re face to face.

I maintain my distance.

The asshole motions his chin towards the ground and commands, “Show me all the money.”

“Show me my woman.”

My rebuttal prompts his driver to aim his loaded weapon at my head; however, it’s my lack of fear as a response that pushes him to summon additional reinforcements.

Glancing over my shoulder reveals to me two more men with their weapons drawn, ready to fire on their boss’s word.

Yet again, I don’t wince.

Show weakness.

I merely ask, “That it?”

Amusement returns to his arrogant expression. “That not enough for you?”

“Since none of them have my woman in tow,” another brief look at the dudes behind me is taken, “no.”

A step forward precedes him stating, “Show me the money or I’ll show you her in chunks.”

Keeping my composure is difficult but not impossible.

I grit my teeth.

Grind them and drop the bag at my feet.

“Kick it closer.”

I nudge it forward just enough to indicate I’m not trying to lure him in for an immediate attack.

“Still fun,” he nefariously chuckles under his breath in tandem with dropping down to open the bag. “I’d recruit you if my men weren’t likely going to have to shoot you.”

Big assumption they’ll get a shot off.

“We’ll have to count it,” announces the man directly across from me prior to unzipping it. “And if you’re a penny short, you’ll be using it to pay for her funeral arrangements.” His hands dive into the bag to grab a group of bills. “I’ve got a great mortician on speed dial.” Over confidence clouds his face upon picking up a stack to thoroughly count. “I’ll give you his-”