Page 157 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
A humorless laugh leaves my lungs. The situation might be funnier if I wasn’t still so damn hung up on her.
My phone buzzes.
A bubble of hope expands inside my chest for a brief moment until I see Orrin’s name pop up.
“Hey. You’ve got plans tonight?”
I drag my fingers through my hair. It desperately needs a wash. “Yeah. It involves a bottle of scotch and a greasy pizza from the place below where I’m staying.”
“Christ. I will say, your honesty is refreshing. Well, if you feel like doing something less depressing, something that might get your spirits up, I need an extra man tonight.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Just a few friends of mine bringing gifts from abroad. They’re generous. We could use some help carrying the presents.”
I read between the lines. It’s some kind of a heist. Knowing what I know about Orrin, he’s probably taking imported crap off a truck.
Life is just a nasty fucking cycle, isn’t it? To go from underboss to a damn foot soldier…
Whatever. It’s work, and I could use something to keep my thoughts off Gemma for a few hours.
Rubbing my forehead with the heel of my palm, I mutter, “All right. Tell me when and where.”
* * *
Orrin and two of his guys pick me up at midnight in a cargo van and take me to an industrial area on the bank of the Hackensack River. Rows of ugly gray warehouses line the empty street, and when we get out, I press my fist to my nose.
“What the fuck is that smell?” It smells like a rotting carcass.
“Landfill.” Orrin looks to the right. “About a kilometer that way. Don’t worry, this won’t take long.”
There’s a truck being unloaded ahead of us, and I have a feeling that’s what we came here for. Jesus. I haven’t done this kind of shit since… Well, I’ve never done this kind of shit. By the time I linked up with Damiano, he was already running more sophisticated schemes.
“I know the night supervisor,” Orrin explains. “He’ll make sure the cameras are off. Only thing we need to do is get a handle on the driver.”
He turns to his guys. “Fill the van as fast as you can. I’m going to explain the situation to the driver and make sure he understands. We don’t want any trouble tonight, got it?”
“Sure, boss,” the one that goes by “Speedy” says.
“No problem,” the other guy, Chris, adds. “Easy peasy.”
Orrin nods before moving his attention to me. “Ras, you’re on lookout.”
“Sure.”
For the first five minutes, everything goes according to plan. After a small scuffle with the driver, Orrin handcuffs him to the side of the truck and slaps some tape over his mouth. The man makes some noise for a bit before he comes to terms with the situation.
Speedy and Chris load the cargo inside our van. It’s a bunch of high-end computer monitors. I’m doing the math on it in my head when the back of my neck tingles.
My eyes narrow. I’ve learned to trust my gut in these kinds of situations.
A black car turns into the lot, its headlights on full beam. I shield my eyes with my palm, squinting against the light, but it’s hard as fuck to see anything.
“Who is it?” Orrin calls out. “We’re almost done.”
“Pack it up and get in the van,” I yell over my shoulder. Whoever it is, they clearly knew we’d be here, and something tells me it’s not the cops.
The car stops twenty feet away from the truck, and four men spill out of it.
