you asshole! I shouted in my head.
âYouâve been doing this a whole year, missy, and you almost kept getting away with it. Couldnât quite get you on the murder of Mr. Ortega, but watching you distribute drugs was good enough. And, I must say, using you to bring down such a big operation was lots of fun for us cops,â he said smugly. The look on my face mustâve been one of shock because Boules broke into a full smile, like he was getting a hard-on just watching my pain.
âOh yes, Ms. Vasquez, those packages you delivered today, every one of them was equipped with a nice, government-monitored GPS tracker. Thatâs right . . . so you took us right to every hot spot in town. We even got the bossâwhatâs his name, Lance Baxter or Big Lance. What an ugly fucker he is,â Boules continued. I just hung my head. What a dummy I was for not listening to my own gut feelings. I had probably single-handedly helped bring down Lance and Lucaâs entire Virginia Beach operation.
âYep . . . we followed Lance right to your house immediately after we purposely mixed up your package delivery. We kind of knew that would get him to come out of the woodworkâmissing drugs does it every time. You know these ghetto bosses are so predictable. You were a great target to follow tooâyou never burned us because you are so oblivious to your surroundings. How did you not notice four cars following you for days? Ha! You would think a girl who chose to be a drug-delivery service would be looking around all of the timeânope, not you,â Boules laid it all out. I felt so stupid. Then it happened; I couldnât help it. My stomach had begun to swirl so badly that I just bent over and threw up. The vomit went all over Boulesâs shoes and the bottom of his pants. He jumped so high he looked like he was on a trampoline.
âOh God! What the fuck!â he screamed. I was too sick to smile, but I felt at least a little vindicated inside. Right after that I was forced inside of a waiting unmarked police car. I looked out of the window and watched all of the feds swarm like flies to shit over Eduardoâs spot.
âGet that mail truck. Thatâs one of ours. It has the cameras inside. If that shit goes missing we wonât be able to catch any more postal workers riding dirty. I am not trying to have HQ breathing down my neck about their new toy,â the female federal agent who had searched me yelled out to the other agents who were busy rushing around the truck and the house. I knew I should have never gotten in that truck that day, but what choice did I have? It was either go through with getting arrested, or get killed by Lance or Luca or whomever. I just hadnât realized that it was going to be a little bit of both. The day of the arrest, I had accepted the fact that I might spend the rest of my life in jail. I just didnât anticipate that the drama wasnât over.
CHAPTER 12
COMING TO AN END
W hen I was led into the pale-brick federal building in handcuffs, I was purposely taken past a row of doors with small glass windows. Inside, I saw Eduardo in one room surrounded by two DEA agents, Lance in another sitting alone, Ant in one with two more agents, and Brick in one acting the fool, yelling and screaming about his lawyer.
Boules was telling the truth when heâd said everyone had been taken down from the packages I had delivered. That wasnât a good feeling. Not because I cared about those dudes, but because of the implications it had on me and my family. Tears welled up in my eyes because nothing about the situation could be good. I was put inside of one of the same types of rooms. It was really like some shit I had seen on TV. There was nothing in the room but a metal table, three metal chairs, and the usual double-sided glass mirror. It smelled of fresh paint and Pine-Sol. That didnât sit well with my already fragile stomach.
âHave a seat,
âYouâve been doing this a whole year, missy, and you almost kept getting away with it. Couldnât quite get you on the murder of Mr. Ortega, but watching you distribute drugs was good enough. And, I must say, using you to bring down such a big operation was lots of fun for us cops,â he said smugly. The look on my face mustâve been one of shock because Boules broke into a full smile, like he was getting a hard-on just watching my pain.
âOh yes, Ms. Vasquez, those packages you delivered today, every one of them was equipped with a nice, government-monitored GPS tracker. Thatâs right . . . so you took us right to every hot spot in town. We even got the bossâwhatâs his name, Lance Baxter or Big Lance. What an ugly fucker he is,â Boules continued. I just hung my head. What a dummy I was for not listening to my own gut feelings. I had probably single-handedly helped bring down Lance and Lucaâs entire Virginia Beach operation.
âYep . . . we followed Lance right to your house immediately after we purposely mixed up your package delivery. We kind of knew that would get him to come out of the woodworkâmissing drugs does it every time. You know these ghetto bosses are so predictable. You were a great target to follow tooâyou never burned us because you are so oblivious to your surroundings. How did you not notice four cars following you for days? Ha! You would think a girl who chose to be a drug-delivery service would be looking around all of the timeânope, not you,â Boules laid it all out. I felt so stupid. Then it happened; I couldnât help it. My stomach had begun to swirl so badly that I just bent over and threw up. The vomit went all over Boulesâs shoes and the bottom of his pants. He jumped so high he looked like he was on a trampoline.
âOh God! What the fuck!â he screamed. I was too sick to smile, but I felt at least a little vindicated inside. Right after that I was forced inside of a waiting unmarked police car. I looked out of the window and watched all of the feds swarm like flies to shit over Eduardoâs spot.
âGet that mail truck. Thatâs one of ours. It has the cameras inside. If that shit goes missing we wonât be able to catch any more postal workers riding dirty. I am not trying to have HQ breathing down my neck about their new toy,â the female federal agent who had searched me yelled out to the other agents who were busy rushing around the truck and the house. I knew I should have never gotten in that truck that day, but what choice did I have? It was either go through with getting arrested, or get killed by Lance or Luca or whomever. I just hadnât realized that it was going to be a little bit of both. The day of the arrest, I had accepted the fact that I might spend the rest of my life in jail. I just didnât anticipate that the drama wasnât over.
CHAPTER 12
COMING TO AN END
W hen I was led into the pale-brick federal building in handcuffs, I was purposely taken past a row of doors with small glass windows. Inside, I saw Eduardo in one room surrounded by two DEA agents, Lance in another sitting alone, Ant in one with two more agents, and Brick in one acting the fool, yelling and screaming about his lawyer.
Boules was telling the truth when heâd said everyone had been taken down from the packages I had delivered. That wasnât a good feeling. Not because I cared about those dudes, but because of the implications it had on me and my family. Tears welled up in my eyes because nothing about the situation could be good. I was put inside of one of the same types of rooms. It was really like some shit I had seen on TV. There was nothing in the room but a metal table, three metal chairs, and the usual double-sided glass mirror. It smelled of fresh paint and Pine-Sol. That didnât sit well with my already fragile stomach.
âHave a seat,
Similar Books
