street and watched the house for awhile. It was still really early in the morning. The sky was clear and the air crisp. I'd known many dealers in my time and he was most likely asleep right now. Most dealers didn't do business until the late afternoon and stayed open late. If I was lucky, I'd catch him off-guard in bed.
I walked to his front door and tried to look through the side window. The blinds were closed and the view blocked. I quietly tried the door handle but it was locked. Some dealers were stupid enough to keep their doors unlocked. My only way in was the old-fashioned way. I looked around carefully down the street. Any witnesses could easily put a wrench in my plan. But nobody was out this early.
I curled my hand into a fist and smashed it through the side window. The dealer would probably be awake by now. But I still had time. I reached in through the broken window and felt around for the deadbolt. My fingers barely grazed it but I was able to turn the lock and open the door.
The living room was completely empty. Not usual with a drug dealer. Most of them made a lot of quick money so that meant lots of high-end electronics: big screens, sound systems, and video games. But this house was barren. Something was wrong. I could sense it.
The back bedrooms were empty too. Not even a mattress was in there. If a drug dealer lived here, there was no evidence of it now. Or that bitch, Erica, was lying to me. That sounded more likely. In her messed-up state I took what she told me as the truth. Why would she lie to me when she needed drugs so badly? She had to of known that I wouldn't bring any back when I found out she was lying.
Or what if she was just trying to get me out of the house? I quickly checked my car keys and noticed the handcuff keys were still on there. She could break apart the bed if she really wanted to. I had to get back home.
I rushed back to the living room and to the front door. I almost opened it when I heard someone knock from outside. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. Could be the police or a concerned neighbor. I'd have to run out the back in a hurry. I looked through the peephole and saw a skinny guy shaking and constantly scratching his arms. Definitely not a neighbor or a cop. I opened the door.
“Hey man, is Jenkins around? I know he's not open yet but I just really need my fix. I'll pay whatever he wants.” The guy looked around nervously. I pulled him inside by his shirt, closed the door, and slammed him against it.
“Where the fuck is Jenkins?” I growled. My patience was already wearing thin.
“Dude! What the fuck? Just chill out.”
My fist sank into the junkie's stomach and he collapsed to his knees, his breathing turned to rasps. “Tell me where Jenkins is or I'll have to hurt you more.”
The druggie put his hands up in surrender. “I don't know, you psycho! I just came to his house looking for a fix.”
The rage told me to hit the guy one more time for good measure. But he didn't know jack shit. Getting my hands dirtier wouldn't get me any closer to finding the dealer. But it would damn well make me feel better. I threw a right hook at the junkie's face, snapping his head back and knocking him unconscious. The boiling anger subsided and I really did feel better. I opened the door, pushing the druggie's limp body to the side.
I put my sunglasses on and realized that Erica wasn't lying to me. This house was Jenkins' but he had already skipped town. He either ran after the stealing the drugs or heard that the Kellys were on to him. Either way, it wasn't looking good for me. The Kelly brothers expected results and I always delivered.
On the way back to my apartment, I got another call from Damon. No way I could dodge it this time.
“I need a fucking update, Brody. You've been gone too long. Where the fuck are my drugs?” Damon was already furious and I needed to play this cool.
“I got the
I walked to his front door and tried to look through the side window. The blinds were closed and the view blocked. I quietly tried the door handle but it was locked. Some dealers were stupid enough to keep their doors unlocked. My only way in was the old-fashioned way. I looked around carefully down the street. Any witnesses could easily put a wrench in my plan. But nobody was out this early.
I curled my hand into a fist and smashed it through the side window. The dealer would probably be awake by now. But I still had time. I reached in through the broken window and felt around for the deadbolt. My fingers barely grazed it but I was able to turn the lock and open the door.
The living room was completely empty. Not usual with a drug dealer. Most of them made a lot of quick money so that meant lots of high-end electronics: big screens, sound systems, and video games. But this house was barren. Something was wrong. I could sense it.
The back bedrooms were empty too. Not even a mattress was in there. If a drug dealer lived here, there was no evidence of it now. Or that bitch, Erica, was lying to me. That sounded more likely. In her messed-up state I took what she told me as the truth. Why would she lie to me when she needed drugs so badly? She had to of known that I wouldn't bring any back when I found out she was lying.
Or what if she was just trying to get me out of the house? I quickly checked my car keys and noticed the handcuff keys were still on there. She could break apart the bed if she really wanted to. I had to get back home.
I rushed back to the living room and to the front door. I almost opened it when I heard someone knock from outside. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. Could be the police or a concerned neighbor. I'd have to run out the back in a hurry. I looked through the peephole and saw a skinny guy shaking and constantly scratching his arms. Definitely not a neighbor or a cop. I opened the door.
“Hey man, is Jenkins around? I know he's not open yet but I just really need my fix. I'll pay whatever he wants.” The guy looked around nervously. I pulled him inside by his shirt, closed the door, and slammed him against it.
“Where the fuck is Jenkins?” I growled. My patience was already wearing thin.
“Dude! What the fuck? Just chill out.”
My fist sank into the junkie's stomach and he collapsed to his knees, his breathing turned to rasps. “Tell me where Jenkins is or I'll have to hurt you more.”
The druggie put his hands up in surrender. “I don't know, you psycho! I just came to his house looking for a fix.”
The rage told me to hit the guy one more time for good measure. But he didn't know jack shit. Getting my hands dirtier wouldn't get me any closer to finding the dealer. But it would damn well make me feel better. I threw a right hook at the junkie's face, snapping his head back and knocking him unconscious. The boiling anger subsided and I really did feel better. I opened the door, pushing the druggie's limp body to the side.
I put my sunglasses on and realized that Erica wasn't lying to me. This house was Jenkins' but he had already skipped town. He either ran after the stealing the drugs or heard that the Kellys were on to him. Either way, it wasn't looking good for me. The Kelly brothers expected results and I always delivered.
On the way back to my apartment, I got another call from Damon. No way I could dodge it this time.
“I need a fucking update, Brody. You've been gone too long. Where the fuck are my drugs?” Damon was already furious and I needed to play this cool.
“I got the
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