Blood Thief Box Set(13)

I wrinkled my nose. "You mean Eres? Isn't he just a real estate guy?"

Simon chuckled. "Yes, and far more."

The car slowed to a stop and in a few seconds Certus opened the door. Simon slipped out, being careful to keep his head low and shadowed by his large hat. I followed and blinked against the bright light of the sun. We were parked close to the rear of one of the yards that was surrounded by a chain-link fence. A rusted old gate and assortment of trash told me this wasn't used very often. The smell of the river, the sounds of men yelling, and the groaning of machinery bespoke the rough occupation.

In his elegant attire Simon stood out like a sore thumb in the dingy. He turned to Certus. "Remain here. This may take a few minutes." Certus closed his eyes and bowed at the waist. Simon glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. He gestured to the gate. "Ladies first."

I shook my head. "Hell no. This is your show, you go first."

He bowed his head. "As you wish."

Simon led me through the rusted gate and into the yard. Half a dozen metal warehouses stretched length-wise from the fence to the docks along the river. Stacks of wooden crates and lines of metal cargo containers filled the narrow space between the buildings. Small walkways allowed one to reach the front of the warehouses that looked out on the docks. The rear of the warehouses had doors, but they were as rusted as the gate behind us.

I looked around us. The sunlight glistened off something small and round above us. I followed the light and noticed a camera and its lens pointed down at us. The rear of all the buildings had cameras pointed at the space between the fence and the structures.

I pointed at the camera. "Do you-" Simon put a finger to his lips.

"Shh."

I frowned and opened my mouth to ask why, but my question was answered when a man with a gun stepped out from the shadows of one of the paths. He wore a dark suit and black sunglasses. In one hand was a pistol. The barrel was pointed at us, and there was a glare on his face.

"What the hell do you want?" he growled.

Simon grasped the top of his cane with both hands and bowed his head. "We're merely sightseers curious to have a view of the docks."

The man took a step towards us. His finger on the trigger tightened. "Then you chose a bad spot 'cause now I've gotta take care of ya."

Simon raised his head and looked into the man's eyes. "Must you? We really meant no harm."

The man's eyes widened and took on the familiar haziness I recognized as the same as those of Gemmarius from last night. When the gunman spoke his voice was devoid of emotion. "No. It's fine. Please look around all you want."

Simon tipped his hat. "We're much obliged, and would be more so if you remained in the shadows until we left."

The man nodded. "As you wish." He slipped back into the alcove from which he appeared.

Simon strode on ahead with his cane at his side. I glanced between Simon and the camera, and hurried after him. "What the hell are you doing? There's a bunch of cameras around here!"

He smiled. "I'm well aware of that."

I waved my hand in the direction of the limo. "Then don't you think we should be getting out of here?"

"In due time," he assured me.

His long strides and quick step meant we covered the hundred and fifty feet of warehouse in a short time. More wooden crates covered all but a narrow path to the open area in front of the warehouses. Simon took one side and I took the other so we both looked out on the busy docks.

Forklifts and cranes worked away at loading and unloading the cargo from a couple of flat-decked ferry boats. Men hefted small boxes onto pallets that were then taken away into the gaping mouths of the warehouses. The operation was like any other except for the armed guards stationed here and there along the docks and the front of the buildings. Their black sunglasses hid their eyes, but they turned their heads slightly to and fro as they inspected the area.

I glanced at Simon. "What's the deal with the guards?"

Simon's gaze lay on the men who stacked the smaller boxes. A sly smile slipped onto his lips. "Watch."

I followed his gaze. One of the men lifted a box and froze. His eyes widened and he slowly opened his arms. The wooden box fell onto the hard pavement and cracked open. Bags of white powder spilled onto the ground and over his feet.

One of his loading mates shoved his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing? Pick it up!"

The man shook himself and clutched his head in one hand. "What? What happened?"

His mate jabbed a finger at the broken crate and contents. "That's what happened, now pick it up!"

The pair of them stooped and shoveled the contents into the crate. I glanced at Simon and jerked my head towards the men. "What's in those things?"

His eyes remained on the men and his lips were pursed. "Cocaine. High-quality, from what I hear. The human's version of blood."

I turned back to the men as they finished their stuffing of the drugs. "So why show me this?"

"The warehouses are owned by Eres, and knowingly rented to the drug dealers," Simon told me.

I cringed. "How could he-" I glanced at Simon.

He was gone.

My heartbeat quickened. I spun around and looked down the narrow path. The way was empty. I was alone.

"Simon?" I hissed. "Where the hell-"

"Hands in the air! Now!"

I stiffened and slowly turned towards the docks. One of the gunmen stood in the entrance to the path and had his weapon pointed at me. I cringed and slowly raised my hands.

"I-I can explain," I stuttered.

The man strode up to me and pulled out a stick. "You'll explain, all right."

He raised the stick and brought it down on my head. A hard knock and I was out.





CHAPTER 4





Loud noises and a throbbing headache brought me around. I felt like I'd been hit by a train and there was something tight around my hands. My eyes creaked open and I beheld the interior of one of the steel warehouses. The large door was shut and there were no windows, so the large space was lit with long florescent bulbs that hung from the curved ceiling. The walls were so well insulated that the roar of the machines outside was more like a whimper. No one would hear me scream.

Around me were stacks of crates and wooden boxes. They all looked like the crate that broke open on the dock. I sat in a wooden chair in an open spot on the floor. My feet were bound at the ankles and my hands were tied together behind the back of the chair. I squirmed, but the knots were good and tight.

The noise that helped wake me up came from two men who stood in front of me. They were two of the glasses gunmen. One held a camera and the other tried to get the camera from him.

"Lemme try it!" the one without the camera demanded.

His friend held the camera out of his reach. "I tell ya it ain't gonna work!"

His buddy dove for the camera and managed to grab it. He stepped back and clasped the camera in both hands while he glared at the other guy. "You probably just had the lens shut."

The former owner of the camera frowned and jabbed his finger at me. "I tell ya she's just not showing up on the recorder."

His friend scoffed. "Like some ghost? Yeah, right." He turned and pointed the camera at me. I winced at the bright flash. The guy grinned and showed his buddy the screen on the back.

"Read 'em and weep," he bragged.

His friend leaned forward. A smirk lipped onto his lips and his eyes flickered to the man who held the camera. "She ain't there."

His friend's smile slipped off his face and he whipped his head towards the screen. His eyes bulged out of his head and his mouth dropped open. "What the hell? I got her! I know I did!"

"You got the chair, but she ain't in it just like my pictures," his friend pointed out.

"Will you two shut up?" a voice growled.

The men stood at attention and stepped aside. I glanced past them and into the face only a mother could love, and only if she was blind. The man was all fat and wrinkles, and his beady dark eyes glared down at me from his full five-foot height. He wore a white suit that did nothing to hide the sweat under his armpits and his black shoes shuffled along the floor as he walked up to me.

The man leaned down so our faces nearly touched and glared at me. His putrid breath ghosted over my face. I cringed and turned away. "Who the hell are you?" he questioned me.

I shrugged. "Just somebody's who's lost."

The man pulled a pistol from his pocket. He pointed the weapon upward and jabbed the cold barrel under my chin. My heart skipped more beats than it should have as his finger inched close to the trigger.

The man lowered his voice and his words were delivered in a deadly-calm whisper. "I don't think you quite know the trouble you're in, miss. You see, I called the boss and he's interested in seeing you. Real interested." He glanced over his shoulder at the men. "You got that picture yet for him"

They both shook their heads. "No, Boss. She won't show up," the one with the camera told him.

The pudgy man's eyebrows crashed down and he straightened. I breathed a sigh of relief when the barrel was removed from my flesh. "What the hell does that mean?"

The man stepped forward and placed the camera between the fat man and me. "See, Boss? There's the chair, but she ain't in it."

The fat man grabbed the camera and shoved the gun into his lackey's hand. "You idiots probably didn't set it right." He played with the settings, raised the camera to his face, and I was once more blinded with the indoor flash settings. The pudgy man flipped into the picture folder and frowned. "What the fuck?"