“I swear we don’t know where they are.” The guy whimpered.
God ducked his head, and spoke close to the man’s ear, his voice low and full of irritation. “Are you trying to tell me that I just wasted my time coming all the way out here? Hmm? Is that what you’re telling me?”
The other guys had gone pale and silent. They tried not to look at their friend who appeared as if he was about to cry.
“No. I didn’t say that. I meant... what I said was... we don’t know,” the guy sniffed. “They don’t tell us nothing. We looking for ’em too. They owe us money.”
“Well, when you do see them,” God snarled, his grip still punishing on the asshole’s neck. “You tell them God is looking for them.”
“Okay. Okay,” the man said, trying to get loose. He wrenched himself free and scurried away, the other two inching past Day and running behind their friend.
“Motherfuckers.” God pulled his hair in frustration. Day came up beside him and squeezed his arm slightly before he removed his warm touch. It was enough to get him walking towards the truck despite how heavy his steps felt.
“We’ll find something, Cash. We always do. We just gotta keep searching,” Day said, trying to reassure him.
God was getting that heavy, defeated feeling as he glanced up and down the street. There wasn’t much out there they hadn’t already tackled. They’d pulled the Exxon surveillance—which showed nothing—and detectives had spoken with every house within a four-block radius of the Boys and Girls club. No one had seen a thing. Or no one would talk.
“Let’s go to the bar across the street. There’s a few more cars out there now,” Ruxs told him, climbing into the backseat.
“All right.” It was a long shot, but God would keep trying no matter what.
Some older men stood across the street on Lakewood Avenue in front of the Real Deal Sports bar, having a smoke. They didn’t look like Warlords but they also didn’t appear to be anyone they’d questioned before.
God parked the grille of his truck in front of the men, not caring how annoyed they appeared. “Free, these guys checking out? Over,” God asked on the comms system. He knew Lennox Freeman could see the men through God’s dashboard cam and was now running a facial recognition search to see if there was anything he and Day needed to know before they got out of the truck.
Typically, a cop wouldn’t have access to such instant technology, but God’s task force was afforded certain luxuries, like hiring one of the world’s best hackers to work for them. Free could not only search their police database, but his self-built, customized computer system could search worldwide. Not everything Free gave them was obtained legally, but his untraditional set of skills had led them to obtaining plenty of admissible evidence, and had also saved them more than once in the field.
“They’re clear. Over,” Free responded.
God got out first and his men followed. He walked up to them, noting the two white men were standing in a defensive position, but the one black man didn’t appear to care that they were there either way.
“Evening officers.” The one with the uneven goatee and bald head covered in tattoos sneered. “You all slummin’ it today?”
They were dressed in their casual clothes, not uniforms, but unless they were going undercover... they didn’t try to look the part. They had on bulletproof vests and all of their badges were on display, and so were their weapons.
The other one tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it with his boot as if they’d just ruined his good smoke break. He turned up his lip at God. “Or were you all in the mood for soul food for lunch?”
The black guy who was maybe in his late forties and already balding in the center, laughed and nodded towards the end of the street. “Ms. Winnifred sells dinners out of her kitchen until six. But, you gotta be quick. Her chicken and dumplings don’t last long.”
“For real? She got meatloaf by any chance?” Day asked then pointed down the street. “Were you pointing this way? How far down Conrad?”
The black guy’s smile got larger, and a curious frown crossed his face. Then he started to chuckle. “If you’re serious, her house is nine-twenty. She doesn’t mind serving boys in blue either.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious. She got any pies? Sweet potato... lemon meringue, or something?” Day asked, stepping around God and seeming to get into the conversation.
The man stood, his surprised grin firmly in place. “Hell yeah she got sweet potato pie. What you know about that kinda eating... officer?” The guy teasingly stressed the last word.
“The same fuckin thing you know about it... man,” Day countered, making Ruxs and Green laugh.