#Grudgegirl by Sean Cummings

Author:Sean Cummings [Cummings, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780978381783
Publisher: Sean Cummings
Published: 2017-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

18

Jia didn’t like the idea of leaving her gun in the pickup truck, but she knew that if she walked into Cool Customs and they found out Jia was carrying, she would never walk out of the shop alive. If she were going to pull this off, she’d have to come off as nothing more than a courier. In fact, the best thing to do would be for her to take the large manila envelope stuffed with a thousand in cash and the three sentence note and tell the rival biker gang that if they wanted to take down Eddie Ford, they should meet her in front of the Carleton Region Police Station at 9 PM sharp. She could then hand him the envelope and leave the building as fast as her legs could carry her.

The plan was for Izzy to park a block away from the shop but close enough to keep an eye on Jia as she headed down the street and into the store. Then as soon as she emerged from the building a few minutes later, he’d burn rubber down the road, pick her up and hope like hell there weren’t any Corps hanging around outside the shop smoking and joking because everyone in the Coffin Corps Motorcycle Club knew what Izzy looked like.

It was just past 3 PM when Izzy parked the old Dodge pickup about three hundred yards away from Cool Customs front entrance. Jia took a last drag on her cigarette, and she grabbed the manila envelope from the dashboard. She turned to face Izzy and stabbed the cigarette butt in the ashtray, “As soon as you see me come out the front door, haul ass over to get me. I don’t plan on being inside that place for longer than two minutes.”

Izzy nodded as he glanced up the street. There weren’t any bikers parked out front. Yet.

“Just walk in. Hand the envelope to whoever is behind the counter. They’ll make sure Sylvain gets it.”

“Fair enough,” Jia replied as she opened the door and stepped out of the truck. “Showtime.”

Izzy left the engine running and watched as Jia strode along the sidewalk with a quick, confident pace. He timed her journey on his watch – it took her four minutes to reach the front door. He wiped at his sweating brow with a forearm and cranked the fan onto full, and all that it did was blow hot air inside the cab of the pickup. He glanced at Jia’s SIG lying on the seat next to him and covered it with a plastic bag.

Inside Cool Customs, a blue haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air at shoulder height as the high-pitched shriek of air powered tools rang out every few seconds from behind a shop door that Jia assumed led into the service bay. She walked up to the counter knowing full well the two burly looking men staring back at her were Coffin Corps. They weren’t wearing their colors but they

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