“There’s these narcotics detectives that’ve been leaning on me a while. They’re some real scary motherfuckers,” Worm said with his voice lowered. “Everyone knows I was picked up by two of them. If I’m seen back out on the streets in a couple days, free as a jaybird, then God’s team makes a huge bust, everyone will know it was me. And then… I’m a dead man walking.”
Jesse ran his hands through his hair, grimacing at the texture. He wished he’d been able to use his shampoo and conditioner, but he didn’t want to wet his hair and step back out into the cold. The last thing he needed was a cold or worse, the flu. “So what’s the plan?”
“I need you to just stay in the neighborhood a little while longer. Don’t go far. Don’t venture into downtown, and please, whatever you do, stay away from the fuckin’ westside. I know I can cut a deal with God; it just has to be enough to get me out of here but not enough to make me look like a snitch.”
“Holy shit, Worm.” Jesse’s knee began to bounce, and he was already dreading going back out into the cold morning air with a plan as shaky as this one. “How long are you thinking? Two… three days?”
Worm sighed, appearing uneasy.
“How long?” Jesse asked more firmly.
“Three weeks. Tops.”
“Damnit!” Jesse hollered.
Another female guard opened the door and barked a sharp “Time’s up!”
“Be careful, Worm,” Jesse said softly.
Worm stood with a phony grin on his face that he used to paste on when he was trying to convince Jesse that everything was all good. “Don’t worry about me in here. You be more careful out there. I’m gonna make the deal, okay? I just need a little time. I swear.”
Jesse watched the guard take his best friend away and lock him back behind bars. Great. Happy freaking New Year to me.
Jesse
Jesse quickly walked through the crowded lobby of visitors, hoping he’d never have to come back again. Outside, he hauled ass around the corner, holding his breath until he saw his book bag and duffle still lying intact against the side of the building. But his smile dropped faster than a tramp’s drawers when he noticed it was surrounded by at least six men. Six very intimidating men.
Jesse approached as non-threateningly as possible and pointed to his guarded belongings. “Um, excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation, but that’s my bag. So, if I can just…” Jesse inched forward, but the tallest of the group with the long blond ponytail brought his heavy black boot down on top of it.
Jesse blinked at the man as he eyed him right back twice as hard through sharp green eyes. He had on dark denim jeans and a midnight-colored ribbed turtleneck under his knee-length leather coat. A gust of wind whipped around the building, raising one side of the jacket, displaying a formidable chest and a gun holster that held not one but two mini hand cannons. Jesse swallowed down a lump of fear when he noticed the gold badge suspended from the man’s neck. Not another cop.
“I found this,” the man said, his voice deep and gravelly enough to give Jesse goose bumps along his arms. He spoke in a tone that sounded as if his every sentence, his every thought was final.
“I was visiting a friend—I didn’t particularly have a choice but to leave it out here?” Jesse eyed the men standing around, each of them menacing in their own right. He didn’t know why he kept attracting trouble.
“Well, I just found an abandoned bag in a county jail parking lot. It needs to be checked for ID.” The officer reached down with one swift, fluid movement and flung Jesse’s duffle—as if it weighed less than a newborn—toward one of the other men, who caught it effortlessly.
Jesse scowled at the one rummaging through his bag. He had on skinny jeans, a parka, and a goddamn bow tie peeking out the top. A bow tie. Though he looked like any other nerd with his black-framed glasses, and parted hair, there was something oddly dangerous about him.
But I got caught and damn near strangled by a detective in a bow tie.
Jesse gasped, his eyes widening. These were the narcs. The men standing around, each with their badges visible, wore street clothes that would make them blend easily into any gang. Typical bad boys in all-black gear, ass-stomping boots, and leather coats.
“Nothing in there, God, but clothes, books, a laptop, and toiletries,” the geek said and placed the bag at Jesse’s feet.
Oh God… not the God. Jesse scooped it up and tried to leave, but they’d somehow—without him noticing—formed a tight circle surrounding him enough to where he’d have to physically move one of them to get by. The big one they’d called God closed in until Jesse had to tilt his head back to hold his gaze. Unable to do so for long, he eventually dropped his eyes to the thick butt of God’s gun handle under his armpit.