Holding Out for a Hero (Baytown Heroes #9)

Chapter 25

25

FLIP

Flip maneuvered his car off the narrow road and onto the crumbling asphalt outside the garage. His tumultuous thoughts had been on many things, mostly dominated by the ominous warnings he’d received from Baltimore. The directive to avoid sloppiness just served to piss him off since he was never sloppy.

He sighed, thinking about his situation. He’d taken the activities on the Shore, handling the entire car theft and money laundering scheme as a steppingstone to greater power within his chapter of the Bloods. But there were always others pushing for more. And right now, he had a load of cocaine hidden in the back seats of the nondescript vehicle he was driving. He’d met with one of the Bloods, making the handoff with no problems.

He was feeling the heat with the detectives snooping around the old man. In a bid to evade detection and regain control, he’d broached the idea of moving the operation to a different area—maybe just over the state line into Maryland. There were lots of little places where they could run things, and he’d be closer to Baltimore.

As he made his final turn, he spied the garage bay doors open, seeing Jaybird and Babyface inside, working on a sedan.

With a keen eye honed by years of experience in the underworld of gang living, Flip surveyed his surroundings with a calculating gaze. His mind instantly assessed the potential cash value of every car they chopped. They’d just moved two vehicles they’d grabbed after working on them at the garage and determining their value. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to themselves.

Climbing from his SUV, he glanced to the side. Instead of seeing the minivan in the fenced-in area behind the garage, his gaze fell upon a few old cars and straggly grass. His mind raced, and adrenaline pumped through his veins. They had invested time and effort working on the van, meticulously crafting secret compartments under the floor to conceal the cargo of drugs. The drugs he was currently in possession of and needed to get rid of.

The plan was easy—one of the Blood bitches would dress up like a soccer mom and drive the van south to Florida, carrying a million dollars’ worth of cocaine. With predetermined stops along the way at designated garages, she’d get rid of the product, and by the time she got to Florida, she would be ready to load up again, making the same stops as she traveled north.

It was all set up, ready to start as soon as he got back from Baltimore. Tricking out a suburb mom’s minivan for drug running had become his specialty. With almost no eyes on them here on the Eastern Shore, he was becoming invaluable in a group where members lived and died by the code. And he planned on living. Adaptability was the key to longevity, and he was prepared to ensure his own survival.

Slamming his door, he stalked into the office, seeing the old man sitting where he always was. “Where the fuck is the van from the back?”

Artie dropped the newspaper and glared up at Flip. “What? What the hell are you goin’ on about, boy?”

He bit back the refusal of being labeled “boy” and forced his voice to steady. “The minivan in the back. I’d fixed it up and was selling it to someone.”

“Then why the hell did you leave a For Sale sign in it? Huh? I saw it and had someone looking for just that kind of vehicle. So I called… they came… and they took it.”

“Fuckin’—”

“Watch that language you use with me, Flip. You’re doing good here, but don’t forget whose place this is.”

He glanced to the side and saw Jaybird and Babyface staring through the door leading to the garage. BabyFace was laid-back, but Jaybird was itching to take the old man out. Steeling his expression, he slightly shook his head. “How much did you get for it?”

Artie stood and walked over to the counter. “I didn’t get nothin’ yet. She’s gonna drive it a couple of days and see what she thinks. She’ll be back.”

“You let someone just drive off with it?”

“I know her. Know her family. She comes in here.”

A memory hit Flip, and he narrowed his eyes. “The baker. The woman who had her oil changed on the VW bug?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Why?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No problem. Now that I know the van went to someone who really wanted it, it’s all good, man.”

Artie gave him a hard stare, but Flip just threw his hand up and walked into the garage. Once there, he offered another slight shake of his head, and his men returned to work. Pulling up his phone, he searched for the bakery, knowing it couldn’t be hard to find. Sure enough, Bess’s Bakery came up quickly. And it was only a few miles down the road. The van for the Bloods and the vintage VW Beetle that would put money in his pocket were well within reach.

A sly grin moved over his face, and looking at the others, he offered a chin lift. What could have been a complete fuckup was turning out to be his lucky day. And no one would get in his way. Especially not an old man and a pretty little baker.