Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
My fists clench at my sides as I stand ramrod straight behind the couch, fresh anger surging through me all over again, even though I knew this was coming. This fucker is just the fucking worst.
Steph rests a gentle hand on my back, a silent reminder to breathe, and that she’s here. I’m not alone. I reach for her hand, grateful for the anchoring feel of her fingers threading through mine as we watch Dan take a leisurely sip of his energy drink, letting the suspense build before he answers. “Yeah. I might be familiar. If I were, what would you want to know? More importantly, how much are you willing to pay for the information?”
“I’d be willing to let you name your price,” Garcia says, gaining confidence. A hint of his usual cockiness creeps into his voice as he adds, “But only if you bring me hard evidence. I’d need you to film him paying you for drugs. Or at least get it on audio or something.”
“Oh, the irony,” Justin mutters, “it burns us…”
“It really does,” Steph whispers, shaking her head. “Who knew hockey players were so devious?”
“Hush,” Stone says, leaning in. “We’re close, people. I can feel it.”
Dan laughs, a harsh burst of sound that echoes in the empty warehouse. “Well, then I can’t fucking help you, dude.”
Garcia frowns. “Why? You wouldn’t have to show your own face. You could blur it out or film it so you’re not in the frame or whatever.”
“Nope.” Dan shrugs. “I don’t sell to that guy. Or any NHL players for that matter.”
“But your friend said that you said sold to pro athletes all the time.”
“I lied,” Dan says, draining his energy drink before crushing the can in one strong hand. “Saying I sell pills to pro-athletes gives me legitimacy. Makes me the kind of thug you can trust to get you shit that isn’t laced with garbage that’s going to kill you. But I don’t actually sell to any.” He turns to throw the can, but pauses, glancing over his shoulder at the last minute. “I mean, unless you’re looking to score. My supply is as clean as they come, man. Whatever you need to take the edge off, I—”
“No, I don’t want drugs,” Garcia cuts in, scowling hard enough that his eyes are in shadow. “You’re serious? For real? Did your friend show you the picture I sent?”
Dan pitches the can, making Garcia flinch slightly as it skitters across the floor, into the corner. “Sure did.” Dan ambles back toward the table. “But I’ve never met that guy. Or, I don’t think I have…” He rests a hand on the duffle bag. “Though I guess you could convince me different. If you really wanted to.”
Garcia’s expression shifts, calculation replacing confusion. “What do you mean?”
Dan’s lips curve in a hard smile. “I mean I could say I know him. I could even say I sell him pills on the regular. Hell, for the right price, I’ll say he gave me a blow job for coke and begged me to take his ass in that corner over there.”
Steph’s head rears back beside me with a soft, “ew.”
“Told you he was good,” Stone says, taking another tense pull on his beer.
“He’s going to go for it,” Cruise whispers, knee jogging with an anxiety I feel echoed in every whip-tight muscle in my body. “This is it. Just take the bait you shitty little shit fuck.”
Garcia shifts his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’d have to come to a meeting. Like, at the stadium, with the coach and whatever staff members they want there to hear your story. And you’d have to be convincing. If we don’t have video, it’s on you to sell it.”
“I can sell it,” Dan says without hesitation. “For two grand. Cash. Half now, half when it’s done.”
Garcia props his hands on his hips and all of us lean toward the screen, tension crackling through the room as we hold our collective breath. Part of me still doesn’t believe Garcia will actually go through with it—that even he has limits to how low he’ll sink.
And to how stupid he is.
After all, without a positive drug test, even an alleged “eye witness” to my illegal drug use isn’t going to get him anywhere. It’ll still be one person’s word against the other, and everything from a blood test to a piss test to hair analysis is going to come back clean.
Either he really thinks I’m using and this gamble is going to pay off, or he’s dumber than I thought.
But then…he pulls out his wallet. “I’ve only got five hundred on me. So, five hundred now, and the rest after? I’m good for it.”
Dan nods. “Sure. You’ve got a trustworthy face.” He smiles. “And if you try to fuck me over, it’s not like I don’t know where you work.”