Run Bad Boy Run

Chapter 19

He always wondered why they chose such horrible places for their meetings. He always hated doing their bidding in the early hours of the morning, driving in an expensive car through a town where it was rare to find a home that wasn't marked with at least one bullet hole.

Now, he wishes for it.

He wishes for the dark and it's eagerness to snatch up secrets. He wished for the chipped houses and eyes that pretended he didn't exist.

Here, every eye was on him. Here, there were too many people, too many familiar faces, to stay under the radar.

You're the one who agreed to come back, he reminds himself as he pulls into the parking lot of Uncle Billy Bob's Breakfast Bar. He'd been regretting that decision the second he stepped foot into Valleyfield.

It didn't take him long to find them. Shoved to the very back corner of the rundown family diner, they sat in waiting. For a minute, they looked like normal friends getting together for a bite to eat: laughing and smiling, talking as though they had no care in the world. He might have believed it if it weren't for the bag sitting on the table. He might have believed it if he couldn't see the silver glint of the steak knives arranged in a line right where he was supposed to sit.

"We thought you'd never show," one of them says the moment he approaches the table. He recognizes him as an agent from another chapter from a city he doesn't quite remember. Williams? Watson? The man extends a diamond-encrusted hand. "Raymond."

"I'm still in school," he reminds him, eyes flickering to the two men sitting across from him. "I can't just get up and leave."

"Do you think I care?" Raymond spits. "Never mind. Do you have it?"

He pulled the little black memory stick from his pocket. That damn thing had given him too much trouble. He was glad he'd finally get rid of it.

"Good," the man nods. One of his friends pulls a slim silver laptop from the bag on the table. "We just need to make sure nothing has been corrupted."

"I don't see why it would be," he responded in a cool voice.

The older man's eyes briefly meet his, but the venom they inject into his veins is enough to quicken his breath. He knew why they didn't trust him. In this world, blind trust in the people who were not signing paychecks meant a signature on one's death certificate. Shifts in power did that.

Soon, he wouldn't have to worry about that. Soon, he'd be unstoppable.

He watches Raymond plug the memory stick into his computer, newfound tension turning his insides into mush. "You never know with people—What the fuck is this?"

His breath stops.

"What?" he whispers.

Raymond's murderous, dark eyes move from the computer screen to him. His body coils. He's ready to make a run for it.

"Do you think this is some kind of joke?" Raymond snarls. His men lean forward. He can see the bloodlust in their eyes as well.

"What?" he demands. "I did what I needed to do."

Raymond's fists slam into the table with enough force to send the steak knives into the air. "No!" he whirls the computer screen toward him. "You didn't!"

He stares at the filtering blue screen in silent shock and every molecule of his being begins to boil in absolute rage. His bloodlust was ready to take over.

There was only one document pulled up on Raymond's computer. A single document that had nothing to do with him or his mission.

This memory stick didn't belong to him.