Smash_ A Stepbrother MMA Romance(130)
“Probably. Not sure.”
“Can I do anything?”
I walked over and kissed her softly on the lips. “No. Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be waiting up.”
I laughed. “Don’t wait up. You probably need the sleep.”
She frowned. “You don’t want to finish what we started?”
“Fuck, girl,” I growled. “Of course I do.”
“Then I’ll wait up.”
“Sleep. I’ll wake you.”
She sighed. “Fine. Just be careful.”
I grinned. “I always am.” Without another word, I slipped out of her room, my hard on pushing up against the mesh of my shorts. I stood with my back to her door for a minute, breathing deep as my dick slowly relaxed.
Blood diverted from cock to brain as I went back into my bedroom and changed. Just before I left, I grabbed my gun, slipping it into my jeans.
Just in case. I had no clue what I was walking into.
The night was quiet and cool. The car started on the first try.
I was nervous as I pulled into the place where we usually did the drug exchanges. I wasn’t used to being there in a car, and so the place looked a little spooky, like it shouldn’t have existed.
There was nobody else there. I checked the time on the dash and I was ten minutes late. Either Thom got nervous and left, or he was even later than I was.
I could feel my pulse ripping along at my throat. I was on edge, worried about why Thom had called me out here. If he had rolled over on me, then I had just walked right into a trap.
At least I got one last blowjob before I got a bullet in the skull.
And what a fucking blowjob it was.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard another car pull up next to mine. It took me a second to adjust, but I realized that it was Thom.
I climbed out. “What’s going on, asshole?” I asked as he cut his engine.
He opened his door. “What?”
“I said, why did you call me out here?”
“Shit, man.” He looked nervous and kept glancing around. “I found something big.”
That made me pause. “Something big?”
“Yeah, man. Something big. Something we can maybe use, I don’t know. But I’m fucking terrified that they know, you know?”
“Slow down. What are you talking about?”
“The other day, you came to me.”
“Yeah. What did you find?”
He took a deep breath and held up a packet of papers. “I found these.”
I reached out and took them from him. He leaned up against the hood of his car, practically shaking like a small dog.
“Okay, some papers. Great. Why are you so nervous?”
“I’m afraid they caught me, man.”
He was talking fast and twitching slightly. I knew right away that he was on something, though I wasn’t sure what.
“Thom. Start from the beginning.”
He took another deep breath. “Okay, shit. I got a text about some meeting going down at their usual spot, this shitty bar outside town. I usually don’t go, but they keep me in the loop, just in case.”
“Why don’t you go?”
“I’m small time, you know? I don’t want to bring attention.”
“But you went this time.”
“Yeah, man. You told me to get you something. Anyway, I showed up, and it was just the usual bullshit. I hung out, said my piece, you know, gave my little report on the dealings, and that was that.”
“So where did you get this?” I said, holding up the papers.
“Everyone started getting fucked up, right? Doing blow and all that shit, drinking a lot. I partook a little bit, as usual, but then when things started getting really fucking nuts I snuck into the back room.” He paused and looked around again. His paranoia was beginning to make sense: he was clearly more messed up than I’d realized.
“So I snuck back there and started going through their shit. I found those papers, thought they looked important. I was gonna grab more but someone saw me. I don’t think they realized what I was doing, I made some excuse up or whatever, but fuck, man, I stole those papers.”
I looked down at the stack in my hand and started to read through them.
“Am I totally fucked?” he said after a minute.
“Shut up. I’m reading.”
It began to make sense, why he thought the papers were important. The more I read, the more my heart started beating harder, excitement beginning to rise.
On the surface they were normal papers. It was a deed of ownership, plus some expense reports, for the Blue. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about them.
Except the fact that they were in some gangster’s private office. Why the fuck would mobsters from Canada own some shitty diner in Ridgewood?