Page 23 of Fight or Flight
I almost jump when he suddenly stops and laughs at something he sees on the screen before surprising me when he points his finger directly at me.
“You, tall one. We’re gonna have company soon. Take care of the guy and bring him here,” his eyes look clear at the moment, and his tone is back to normal, but I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I don’t...” I start, but Saint cuts me off.
“Hey, man. I don’t think Aidan is the best option...” but Wallace is already waving him off.
“It can’t be me, and our guest is a big motherfucker. No offense, but all of you wouldn’t even reach him to knock him down.”
“But-...” Saint tries again, glancing at me nervously, probably scared that I’m going to blow it.
It pisses me off, so before I can think better, I step forward and state, “I’ll do it. Tell me what to do.”
Pleased, the Sheriff smiles and gives Saint a look before instructing me. The rest of the guys listen intently, too, before Saint’s closest friend, Frisco, frowns.
“I don’t get it. Is it a guy from the other rival gang you told us about, or what?”
“It’s a rival, alright. That’s all you need to know for now. It’s important for our business to go smoothly to get him out of the equation. Do what I tell you, and you’ll see how great things will be getting soon in Bell Ridge.” Wallace waves for me to get to it, and I climb on the wooden construction prepared to lift the heavy crates to later put them on top of the giant containers we usually store them in.
The thing was actually my idea, not that anyone thanked me for it. So I know exactly how to get to the window that opens to the rooftop of a small shed. It's high enough to hide me well and covered from two sides but also low enough for me to jump down to surprise whoever will be coming here. There’s a lonely plank laying by the leftover pieces of sheet metal, and I grab it in case I need a weapon.
And then I wait. And wait some more.
When I’m actually starting to think the guys pranked me, I see movement coming from the bushes just by the broken fence. And sure enough, a guy big as a fucking house moves quickly toward the warehouse. He looks uncertain, but his moves are smooth and calculated. A zip of adrenalin goes through me as I wait for him to get closer. I watch him checking out the windows, and when he turns away, I realize that this is my moment.
I slip down soundlessly, knowing exactly where to step and how to land, and swing the plank at his head. The guy falls down, and blood starts oozing out of his head. I don’t care; too surprised that I actually managed to get rid of the threat.
Letting go of the now bloodied piece of wood, I crouch to check on his pulse and glance up when I hear steps coming closer.
Saint and Frisco see the man laying unconsciously at my feet, and both simultaneously lift their eyebrows before grinning at each other.
“See, man, told you, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Our little Aidy is growing to be a man,” Frisco jabs my brother with an elbow before glancing at me with pride.
Saint looks less impressed but still smiles at me with a shrug. “Let’s get him inside then.”
It takes three of us to lift him, and I feel my back protesting under the weight. Jesus Christ, who let the Incredible Hulk out in the public?
When we grab him, I notice something falling out of the inside pocket of his jacket and stop my movements.
“Wait! Let’s not get sloppy,” I groan and let go of his legs to lift what happens to be a wallet. I check out the content briefly and then regret I did. I almost drop the goddamn thing.
“Fuck. He’s fucking FBI, dude,” I almost yell at Saint.
“What?” He shakes his head and lets go of the unconscious man, too, making him fall to the ground without a flinch. “The fuck he is.”
“Check it out,” I pass him the wallet and watch his reaction, on the verge of panic. “What if there’s more of them, Santiago? We’re so screwed. I told you not to listen to this maniac. Gang rivals. Gang rivals, my ass.”
Saint blinks twice, his jaw working before his head snaps up from the wallet, and he pockets it. “Doesn’t change anything. We have work to do, so we’re doing it. FBI or not, he’s clearly a guy threatening everything we built so far with the Sheriff.” I grab at my hair and eye the body at my feet. “Hey, Aidan! You hear me? Get your shit together and help us carry him in.”
I glance at Fresco, who doesn’t look pleased but, without a question, grabs onto one of the agent's arms to lift him again. Reluctantly, I grab his legs and wait for Saint to join us.
The chair and ropes are already prepared in the center of the warehouse, and a shiver runs through me. Fuck, if he’s set on torturing the man now, I’m out of here. No matter what Saint says about it.
This is already getting out of hand. It’s different from being the gang's courier or staying on watch as they are beating some disobedient lowlife dealer for not paying up. But I just assaulted an FBI agent. In fucking broad daylight. This is not what I signed up for.
Cold sweat collects at the collar of my shirt, and I look away from the scene in front of me when the rest of the guys help out situate our victim on the chair.
It takes some time before he wakes, and I see the sheriff brewing with excitement as he glances at the lump-immobilized man sitting in front of him. The maniacal glint in his eye doesn’t go unnoticed by me, although I seem to be the only one. The rest of the guys just wait patiently for further instructions, looking at Wallace with a weird kind of respect as if the fact that he was brave enough to go after a federal agent is so admirable.