We waited for Jake to pick out some new clothes before leaving the mall and driving to the address that Matt had sent us. I drove and Mouse sat in the back with Jake.
Every time I looked back in the mirror, there was some little gaze or lingering touch. It was sweet—Mouse deserved to have someone look at her that way—but it scared me to think about how she'd react if something happened to him. She seemed to be getting attached way too quickly.
Pulling up to the pavement outside the address, we found an apparently empty warehouse. The number twelve was painted at the top right-hand side of the enormous shed. No cars were parked outside, but the thrum of activity came from within. I pressed my foot down on the accelerator and parked about a block away then walked back through the alleyways.
A giant roll-down door sat at the front of the warehouse, the sort that would allow a big truck to drive right in to load up. Circling the building, we found a pedestrian door at the back, almost obscured by graffiti. The alleyway t squeezed between the hulking box of a building we were here to visit and the one that was almost identical behind it.
I rapped my knuckles against the door, listening intently. Footsteps neared and it opened a crack.
I found myself looking down the barrel of another assault rifle. For goodness sake, didn’t they think for once they could just have a hand gun? All this ‘my gun is bigger than your gun’ crap was getting to me.
“What do you want?” the guy asked gruffly. He wore jeans and a sports jersey, but he handled the gun like he knew how to use it.
“We’re here to see Matt,” I said with a scowl. In the past week I’d had more guns pointed at me than I had in my whole life and I was sick of it.
He sneered at me. “Matt’s not here.”
My eyes didn’t leave the man’s face as I tugged the phone out of my pocket, unlocked it and pressed call. The sound of a phone ringing erupted inside the building. The place must be one huge room; the sound reverberated from wall to wall.
The ringing stopped. I cocked an eyebrow at the guy holding the gun and held the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” Matt said.
“Apparently you aren’t here?” I let a hint of a question slip into my voice. If he was planning on wasting my time, he was sorely mistaken.
The phone clicked and the end-call signal sounded. More steps crossed to the door and a hand emerged, pushing the barrel of the gun high.
“Come on, Harvey, stop being a dick,” Matt said, obviously tired. He nudged the other guy to the side and waved a hand to invite us in.