Unauthorized Affair (Unauthorized #1)(15)
Jerry finished his food, his face still troubled. Jen didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. She hoped he wasn’t planning on doing anything stupid, like having a talk with Sgt. Sadler. Sometimes people were just jerks and you couldn’t do anything about it.
She finished her food and kissed him on the cheek, then went to her room to lay down for two hours before tonight’s activities. She didn’t know how long they would be tonight, or what their schedule would be like for the rest of the week. She wanted to rest while she had the chance. Her nerves grated and jumped but her mind quickly untethered from her body. Her sleep was hard and dreamless, and when she woke, she finally did feel ready.
***
Jen waited outside, looking for her ride. All she knew was that it would be a van of some sort. The night air felt cool on her face and she smiled up at the rising moon, feeling happy at all the newness in her life. Traffic on the street was light, and she hadn’t even seen a minivan, but when a van turned the corner she didn’t believe it at first. It was a dark-blue, full-size van with a picture of a cartoon-lady and a cartoon-vacuum cleaner on the side, with a large logo reading ‘Westwood Cleaners’. It slowed in front of her and then stopped, but she didn’t approach it till the side door slid open and Ryker motioned to her to get in. Then she got it. They were undercover already. She ran and jumped in. Sgt. Foley was driving, a blue cap pulled low over his face.
Ryker pulled the door shut and gave her a pair of blue coveralls. “Put this on over your clothes. And hide your hair in this,” he said, handing her a blue cap like Foley’s. Jen did, then buckled herself in next to Ryker. The seat should have held three people, but sitting next to Ryker meant it only held the two of them. Jen marveled at his bulk. He wasn’t fat. Just big. Huge almost. They’d never had a chance to talk like friends yet, but she couldn’t wait till they knew each other well enough so she could ask how tall he was. Her guess was six and a half feet. Maybe taller. And he probably weighed 280 pounds of pure muscle. But his face and voice were gentle. She felt gratitude that he would be working with them, whatever they were going to be doing. She guessed his sheer size would probably keep them safe in many situations.
“Where’s everyone else?” she asked.
“We’re going to get Ivy right now, then we’ll pick up Sadler.”
Sgt. Foley drove for 10 minutes to a broken-down neighborhood right in town. He cruised up and down Clifton Street, then made a disgusted noise in his throat. “There’s not even a 700 block on this street. Someone look this up on their phone.” He handed a piece of paper backwards and Jen grabbed it. 710 Clifton St.
“Google says there is no such address,” she told him.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Call Ivy. Anyone got her number?” Neither Jen nor Ryker did. “You guys all exchange addresses and phone numbers tonight. It’s important that you can reach each other at anytime. I’ll call Sadler. He’s the one who wrote down the address. He’s slightly dyslexic — he probably got the numbers or the street wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Two minutes later he hung up. “It’s Clifford street, not Clifton street. Jen look it up for me and give me directions please.”
***
35 minutes later, Hunter pulled up in front of their destination and killed the engine. A group of four tough-looking young men shot them appraising looks from the covered bus stop a block away. Hunter wished they would go away, and quickly. The motley crew he had inside the van didn’t look much like a cleaning crew, especially Ryker, who wasn’t even wearing coveralls since they couldn’t find a pair big enough to fit him. Hunter had pulled very close to the door and angled the van so the men at the bus stop couldn’t see them if they all got out the side door. That would have to be good enough for now.
“Take all the equipment inside,” he told the three recruits in the back, hoping Sadler would also follow. He saw all three recruits eying the establishment warily, not quite sure where they were yet. The neon sign was dark, but in the morning they’d see it said Westwood Harbor Pawn and Loan. His eye fell on Jen and he was pleased to see her working quickly and efficiently. And looking cute as a button in her coverall and hat.
He kept one eye on the recruits and one eye on the men at the bus stop, and when the boxes and plastic containers were all inside he locked the van and jumped out himself.
Inside the pawn shop, he blinked at the glaring lights. He looked around at the wall shelves of DVDs and video games, the glass cases full of guns and knives, the shotguns and rifles bolted to the back wall, the glass cases full of jewelry, and the deeper shelves full of power tools. Everything looked great. Briefly he wondered what his recruits were thinking. He grinned to himself and followed everyone else into the very back of the pawn shop, which was actually a modified bank vault. Sadler already had them sitting down at a white, plastic table.
He nodded to Sadler. Sadler tipped his head slightly. OK, I’ll start, Hunter thought. He dug into the largest plastic container and brought out three binders, dropping one of them in front of each of his trainees.
“As you’ve realized, this is a pawn shop. You three will be working here for the next 3 to 12 months. We’ve bought the shop from its former owner and had it out of commission for a few weeks now, with an Under New Management sign out front. Tonight we run through operations, teach you how to run a pawn shop, issue you your guns, and lay out objectives. You need to pay close attention tonight, because tomorrow you are on your own. Sgt. Sadler and I will not enter this building again. We will be doing full-scale observation from a block away.” He pointed out the cameras in the ceiling.