KILLIAN'S MOON (BOOK 12) (RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES) by Jodi Vaughn

Author:Jodi Vaughn [Vaughn, Jodi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jodi Vaughn
Published: 2019-09-07T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Lilliana’s mouth dropped when Killian took off toward the warehouse, leaving her alone in the woods.

“He’s crazy if he thinks I’m just staying behind,” she muttered and ran toward the building.

Killian stopped at the first van. He crouched and pulled something out of his jacket and then put his hand underneath the back bumper. He moved to the other van and repeated the action.

She wondered if he was putting some kind of tracker on the vans. He stood and ran to the back door. He slowly opened the door and eased inside. She skidded to a stop and looked around. She didn’t hear any cars coming or see any movement from the shadows. Confident she was alone, she reached for the door and opened it.

She heard faint voices coming from inside. She peeked inside. The hallway was empty. She stepped inside and eased the door behind her so it wouldn’t slam shut.

The inside of the building had a weird scent. She expected it to smell old from being unused. But instead it smelled of cleaning product.

She glanced to her right and her left. She rubbed her hands on her jeans. She had no idea where Killian had gone. She tried to smell his scent, but that cleaning scent hung heavy in the air and covered up any trace he might have left behind.

She grimaced and turned to her left. She slowly made her way down the hallway. The voices were becoming more distinct.

She froze when she heard footsteps headed toward her. She glanced to her right. There was a door. She tried the handle. It gave and she hurried inside and quietly shut the door behind her. She pressed her back up against the wall and held her breath. The voices and footsteps grew louder until they echoed in her ears.

She blinked in the dark, letting her eyes adjust and trying to slow her breathing.

“I told you I need more cakes,” a male voice said angrily. He had no accent, not even Southern. “How can I move more meth with only twenty cakes a day?”

“I told Reece. He said he was already pushing that female baker to just do twenty. He thinks she will refuse any more orders after that. Plus, he told her she could have Saturday and Sunday off,” the second man spoke. His accent was different and sounded more like he was native to the South.

“Saturday and Sunday off? What the hell? It is not up to him to be handing out days off. I’m running a fucking business here not a daycare.” The first man hit his hand against the door. She froze.

She held her breath until her lungs ached.

“I get it, Ringo. I get it. Maybe we need to get a different supplier. I mean, why can’t we just stuff them in some Twinkies?”

“Twinkies? Do you know how many fucking Twinkies we’d have to fill to move all that meth?” Ringo growled. “Plus, we have a method and a system that’s working. I don’t want to fuck that up.

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