He’s also the last person that I shared this bed with.
Chapter Two – In Too Deep
Blake
Two years, two months, and six days.
That’s how long I’ve been submerged in the Hernandez operation. My younger brother, who is also my handler, Luke, has been my only contact with the outside world in the past five months. Six long months since I’ve seen my parents. I’m in too deep now. We’re too close, and I can’t risk my family’s lives if I were to be discovered by the Hernandez clan.
For two long years, I’ve worked my way up from a regular mechanic for their front business, First Class Auto Repair. Two long years I’ve worked hard to prove myself as a part of their team, earning their trust. For two long years, I’ve wormed my way within the ranks of their organization, been given more responsibility as lead mechanic at the shop. But, most importantly, I’ve built enough trust that I’m also one of their prime heist men, preparing cars for sale with their overseas buyers.
I’m close. Damn close. The final step in this operation is to find out how they arrange for the buyers. It’s not enough for the bureau to just take down this organization in the U.S. We want to know their overseas contacts. We want to know who’s pulling the strings and arranging the buys. We want them all to go down.
Which is why I’m sitting on an immaculate white leather sofa in the large den in the home of Roman Hernandez. Jimmy Mo next to me is receiving orders and directives for his first solo heist: an Adventador LP 700-4 Pirelli Edition Lamborghini. This car is fucking sweet. With over seven hundred horsepower, this baby will go from zero to sixty-two miles per hour in two point nine seconds flat.
I did all the prep work for this job, gathering up location, prime heist timetable, exit routes, and security codes. It’s a simple job. The owner is out of the country, leaving a small security detail of three men on the fortified property. There’s an eight-minute window to get through the back gate, inside the garage, extract the high dollar car, drive out the rear entrance of the garage, and out the back gate. Eight minutes is a lifetime in this world.
“You understand all of the key elements to this job, right, Jimmy?” Roman asks from behind his massive desk. His right hand man, and brother, stands just off to the side behind him, throwing hard eyes directly at Jimmy Mo.
“Yeah, yeah, I got this one, boss. Simple grab,” he says. His cocky demeanor makes me want to punch him square in his scrawny little face.
“Just stick to the plan, Jimmy,” I add, locking eyes with the man behind the desk.
“Go get ready, Jimmy. You leave in one hour,” Roman says, dismissing the man at my side. Since he didn’t say my name, I stay seated and wait for my next order.
“Do you think he can do this?” Roman asks after the door shuts securely.
“He trained with Styx, and he’s the best. As long as he keeps a cool head, he’ll be fine.”
“And this car? The buyer is ready to take delivery?” Roman asks, directing his question over his shoulder at his brother.
“Yes. There’s a shipping container waiting at the airport. We have a small window to get the car on board. My man on the inside is being paid well to make sure we don’t run into any problems,” Mattias answers.
“Good, good. I don’t want any problems with this job. Jimmy Mo’s old man was a master heist man, but something about that boy rubs me the wrong way. Like he’s entitled to something just because of who his pop was,” Roman says with a thick Hispanic accent. Decades in the United States still haven’t lightened his accent much.
“Me, too, if I may say so myself. But Styx vouched for him and says he’s ready for a solo run. Let’s just hope he doesn’t fuck it up,” I say to the two men before me.
“And if he does, Mattias will take care of the problem,” Roman adds with a predatory smile. I nod my understanding and head towards the door.
Outside of the large den, I stand in the hallway in the mansion dwelling of the man I’m trying to take down. I’ve been inside this house more times than I can count, reporting back intel to Luke through the small agency-issued phone I carry in my front pocket. To the naked eye, it appears to be a regular phone, but this little device is something completely different. Every time I sit down and play Angry Birds, the device is activated, recording audio and video completely oblivious to the unsuspecting men around me.
In the last few months, I’ve gotten closer to taking this entire operation down. Closer than any other agent before me. I’ve learned their shipping patterns and methods, building a solid case against this entire organization. The final piece is to locate the scumbags overseas. The entire organization is like a huge Jenga game. Each piece I uncover makes the foundation that much more unstable. It’s teetering dangerously right now, on the verge of collapse. One sneeze in the wrong direction and the entire thing is fucking coming down. I just hope that when it falls, I’ve got enough.