The Hard Way by TJ Vargo

Author:TJ Vargo [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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PART TWO

Lazarus rises. Bad men call for blood. Beautiful girls dance. David fights Goliath.

Chapter Twenty-Five

He opened his eyes. Couldn’t see a thing. It was dark and cold. He shivered, breathing through chattering teeth. A hand pressed over his mouth and someone whispered in his ear.

“Don’t make a sound, Curtis. They’re here.”

It was his dad’s voice. He tried to get his bearings. His clothes were wet. The air smelled of oil and gas and he was lying on an old, roughed-up leather couch. But where was he? And how did he get here? He racked his brain to get a handle on the situation. Who was his dad talking about—who was here? It was all a confusing blur.

Deep, muffled voices broke the quiet. A strip of light glowing from under a closed door was broken by the shadows of approaching people. Curtis looked around. He was in a small room with a desk, the chair his dad was sitting on and an easy chair in the corner. Wall shelves over the top of the desk were filled with catalogs and other books. The men outside the door raised their voices.

“I told you, if I see him, I’ll let you know.”

“You better—unless you want to get buried with him.”

He tried to sit up. There was something he had to do. Somewhere he had to be. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it was important. His dad pushed him down, whispering, “Shh.” The men outside the room walked away, their voices receding into murmurs. It didn’t take long before a door banged shut in the recesses of the building. Footsteps approached. The door swung open and a tall figure entered the room, switching on a light.

Curtis shaded his eyes. The guy stood about six two. Clean shaven with long, straight black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Blue coveralls. Broad cheekbones and eyes with a slight Asiatic tilt. It was Angel. So that’s where he was—in the back office of Angel’s garage, where he’d worked as a mechanic for the past seven years. Angel eyed him.

“So he finally woke up,” said Angel. “How’s he doing?”

“Seems okay,” said Curtis’s dad. “How you feeling, Curtis?”

“What’s going on?” asked Curtis, still feeling like he was late for something.

Angel walked over to a green metal desk pushed against the wall. He reached under it, dragged out a muddy black garbage bag and turned it upside down. Water splashed on the cement floor, then a pile of money slid out of the bag. Twenties, tens, ones and fives—a muddy, sopping wet lump of cash. Angel waved at the money.

“Where’d you get this, Curtis?”

Curtis eyed the cash. His memory clicked. That pathetic pile was what was left from three years of robberies. It had once been over thirty grand. Now, maybe five was left. His teeth chattered and his dad covered him with his dirty old navy blue suit coat.

“I found you and that bag of money lying on the edge of the creek at Fox Glenn Park,” said his dad.

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