The Blueprint (The Upgrade Book 1) by Wesley Cross

unhappy about the secrecy of his employer, and the jobs became progressively more dangerous in nature. The last operation was the first time he lost a crew member.
    “Warehouse number seven” was a small parking lot next to a grocery store with a big name, The Bronx Food Emporium. As Johnny got off the road, he saw a sleek black Mercedes SUV with tinted windows parked all the way in the back. He parked his old truck in the front of the lot, got out, and walked to Latham’s car.
    “Get in,” said Latham, lowering the tinted window just long enough to let Johnny see his face.
    “I need a new favor,” he said without looking and dropped a small card onto Johnny’s lap as Johnny situated himself in a passenger seat. “Here’s the name and address. I think he’s shopping for a new job. Scare him but don’t actually harm him. I want him to stay where he’s at.”
    “Great,” said Johnny without moving or picking up the card. Typically it was his queue to leave the car.
    Latham turned his head and quizzically looked at Johnny.
    “What’s his name?” said Johnny, still not picking up the card. “I did a few favors for you and your boss for the past two years. I need to know who I’m working for.”
    “And you will, if you have patience,” said the balding man, “when the time is right. We talked about it.”
    “I lost a man this time. I need to know who I’m working for. Now.”
    Latham said nothing and simply stared at Johnny.
    “I need to know his name,” repeated Johnny, his cheeks getting flushed, his hand looking for the handle of the machete.
    “Just so we’re clear,” said Latham, touching a button on the steering wheel, and Johnny felt a small prick in his lower back, “you work for me, and not the other way around.”
    A warm wave radiated from Johnny’s lower back in all directions, paralyzing his muscles and making breathing difficult. He tried to pull out his machete, but his body refused to cooperate.
    Latham reached out and roughly slapped Johnny across the face.
    “As you can see, the paralysis doesn’t take away your sensitivity,” Latham said, a thin smile appearing on his lips, “we don’t only make pills that make girls experience mind-blowing orgasms. We also can make you feel as if you’re being burned alive while unable to move. Not something you’d like to experience, is it? Now listen to me, you little piece of shit. I don’t like you, and I don’t care about what you’re trying to do. The only reason I’m even talking to a low scum like yourself is because my boss thinks you’ll serve a purpose yet.
    “Now, I’m going to let you move again, and next time we meet you don’t act like a little child, alright?”
    The man pressed something on his steering wheel again, and Johnny’s entire body tingled as muscle control started coming back to him.
    He struggled out of the car almost falling over and watched as Latham lowered the window to drop the card onto the asphalt.
    “Don’t disappoint me, Johnny,” said Latham closing the window as the black SUV started rolling away, “or else next time you won’t be able to walk away.”
    Johnny stayed still for some time, swaying on unsteady feet and gathering strength. When he felt confident enough, he picked up the card off the ground and shakily walked back to his pickup truck.
    In the truck Johnny pulled out his cell phone and clumsily dialed a number.
    “This is Dan,” said a young voice after a few ring tones.
    “Hey, Danny,” he said hoarsely. “I need you to run the plates for me.”
    “You okay, boss?” the voice said. “You sound a bit off.”
    “I’m fine,” said Johnny. “Ready for the plates?”
    He dictated the license plate number that he memorized to Danny and waited as the other man hacked into the DMV’s database.
    “Here you go, boss. The car is registered to someone named Latham Watkins, but the title and insurance are under a corporate name.”
    “What name, Danny?”
    “GNM