Open Wounds (Harbour Bay #2)(27)
It wasn’t a lie; he had decided to run halfway through his regular drops and still had a shitload of product sitting in his Saab. Hell, he could easily sell that later when he was out of danger, and he would probably need the money.
He stepped out of his apartment, shut the door behind him, and started down the stairs. He hoped Toby wouldn’t comment on the backpack. He wasn’t sure what he’d tell the teen, and right now his brain wasn’t functioning properly enough to come up with a lie.
He heard Toby behind him as he descended the stairs.
Relax, he’s probably just going out. Don’t freak out or you’ll tell him you’re hiding something.
Toby was the kind to report on his own mother, if he had one.
The kid was on his heels as he walked over to his car, dropping the backpack on the passenger seat. He’d rounded the hood and opened the driver’s side door when Toby suddenly touched his arm, startling him.
Michael glared at him. “You want something?”
“Not me. Coleani. He wants to see you right now.”
Oh, shit. I’m a dead man.
“Can’t it wait? I don’t want to disappoint Coleani’s customers.” That was the last thing he cared about, but it amazed him how scared he could be. Hours ago, being stuck in an interrogation room at the LAC had seemed like the worst thing imaginable. The prospect of confronting Coleani was much worse.
Toby shook his head. “Boss wants to see you now.”
Michael let out a deep breath, appearing outwardly calm but shitting bricks on the inside. “All right. I’m on my way.”
“I’ll drive with you.”
Michael clenched his hands into fists. He knew what Toby was doing—making sure he did what was requested of him.
Think, damn it, think. Maybe Coleani has no idea. Maybe he wants to commend you or even throw you an initiation party. That was feasible, right? After all, technically he had passed the test.
He started up the car and drove out onto the street in the direction of Coleani’s restaurant.
“So, do you know why Coleani is so anxious to see me?” he asked, hoping for something to calm his frayed nerves.
“Nope. Just that he expects your arse to be in his office pronto.”
Oh, f*ck. This could very well be his last day alive.
Chapter 13
Nick jumped out of the car as Dean radioed the accident in. The scene around him was a chaotic mess that reminded him of a war-zone. The intersection of Howard and Evans wasn’t usually a high accident zone. Named after the founding father of the town, George Howard and the once infamous convict escapee John Evans the two streets created a T-junction dead centre of town.
Two crumpled cars lay slightly off to the side, having spun around after the initial collision. The traffic light embedded in the side of one vehicle seemed like a permanent feature, the car curved around the thick steel pole. The other car’s hood had been crumpled like an accordion. It was hard to determine who’d been going in what direction.
The shrill whine of a siren told Dean the first responder was on his way. He and Doyle would certainly need all the help they could get. Traffic continued to pile up, and it was only three-thirty in the afternoon. It would be a nightmare come rush hour, since the Howard-Evans intersection was the most frequented in town. Over seventy percent of Harbour Bay citizens used it on a regular basis.
Nick rushed over to a late model Ford and took a quick inventory while Dean moved towards the other car, which resembled something out of a Bathurst 1000 crash and quickly assessed any possible danger as he approached.
He glanced through the tinted window at the driver and knew without opening the door and feeling for a pulse that the driver was dead. He shouted at a few bystanders to stay the hell back as they inched forward, and prayed the uniforms would get here soon to control the masses. For now, his authoritarian voice would have to do.
He pushed back his suit jacket to expose his gun holster and badge, informing the crowd that he was in charge before checking the other windows for other possible passengers. As far as he could see, the driver was alone and therefore the only casualty. He eased open the passenger door with a great amount of difficulty, the interior of the car resembling a sardine can as both sides compressed internally, crushing the life out of the driver as the external walls pushed into each other, fighting for dominance.
Dean prepared to lean over the centre console to remove the driver’s wallet and hopefully his ID, which would make informing the next of kin easier, hopefully before they learned about the accident from the media and saw their loved one’s car on the news.
With one knee on the passenger seat, he reached across and stopped dead.
Shit! In the centre of the back seat, he discovered a child’s car seat, placed so the child could look out the front window. It sat on an angle, the sides cracked as it couldn’t hold off the excessive force. He hadn’t seen the child from the window since the tint was so dark.
He navigated through the small confines and checked the small body for a pulse. He let out a relieved breath, feeling the light throb beneath his fingertips.
He wasn’t sure how he would get the kid out. The little boy was unconscious, for which he was thankful. No child should see his father dead, and Dean had no idea how much pain the child might be in. The safety seat had taken the brunt of the accident, protecting him like it was designed to, but had also tightened around the child so that it was possible the kid had a broken rib or something just as worrying.