Trees hated doing an op so blindly. Normally, he and Zy would case the place, get schematics, do hours of legwork, and plan for every possibility. Then they would go in, using whatever tactic made the most sense. This fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants shit felt reckless, and he hated that the urgency of the situation didn’t allow for strategy. Rushing was often a recipe for disaster.
Zy answered his call. “Talk to me, buddy.”
“Why don’t you cruise past the entrance? This is a mobile home park. A small one apparently. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve gone in and scoped around. Hang tight.”
“You got it.” Zy overshot the entrance, pulling under a big tree to wait.
Trees turned into the neighborhood full of newish mobile homes and modest cars, searching for Hector’s place. He found it—one of the twenty-something unremarkable residences in the community. It was still early, barely past eight. With any luck, he could catch Hector half-awake and unaware.
He cruised to the far side of the neighborhood, parked, then started trekking back to the target’s location, dialing Zy again along the way.
“Whatcha got?” his buddy answered.
“Nothing visible from the street. House looks closed up, like maybe they’re still asleep.” He no sooner got the words out than he saw movement in the kitchen. “Wait. I spoke too soon. The front blinds just opened. I see someone in there. There’s too much glare to a make out a face or an outline, but the place isn’t empty. And there’s a truck in the carport. I’m running the plate now.”
“I don’t want to know how you’re doing that, buddy.”
“You don’t; it’s illegal as fuck. Gimme a second. And what do you know? The truck is registered to Hector Johnson.”
“So he’s probably there.”
Oh, yeah. And the son of a bitch probably wasn’t braced for the fact vengeance was coming to his door. Anticipation zipped through Trees’s veins.
“How do you want to play this?” Zy went on.
Normally, Zy would go in one side, Trees from the other. Together, they would flank the target so there was no escape. But they didn’t know this place, and Zy had Tessa tagging along because she’d refused to stay home.
“I cased the perimeter of the mobile home park. It’s enclosed inside a brick wall. The only way in or out is the entrance you’re parked next to.” Meaning Johnson couldn’t sneak out the back.
“Excellent. That simplifies the situation.”
“Yep. I should approach from the front. Neither Cash nor Hector knows me. I’ll draw their attention while you slip around back.”
“With Tessa.”
Trees didn’t like that at all. “I don’t suppose she’d wait in the car.”
Zy snorted. “Negative.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep.” Zy’s tone sounded almost apologetic. No doubt, he’d tried—and failed—to reason with her.
“Then put her behind you. Sneak in the back. See if you can find the baby while I keep whoever’s inside occupied.”
“You going to read their meter? Or sell them insurance?”
“I’ll wing it. Something will come to me.” It always did.
“You got everything you need?”
“Yep.”
“Where should I roll in?”
Good question. They had to make sure Hector couldn’t spot them. “The mobile home park is shaped like an O, so it’s a curved street on each side, bisected by a long, straight drag of homes in the middle.” Trees told Zy where to leave the sedan to best remain hidden. “From there, walk toward the left side of the park. Johnson is along that wall, in the middle. You should be able to pass yourselves off as a couple taking a morning walk.”
“Roger that.”
Once they hung up, Trees found himself approaching Hector’s place. His blood pressure surged. His lust for revenge roared as he knocked.
Open the door, motherfucker, so I can rip off your head and shit down your throat.
While he waited for someone to answer, he caught sight of Zy and Tessa turning into the development. They rolled to the far side of the community, then disappeared behind the row of mobile homes across the street.
He was getting fucking impatient before a short man with dark hair, a stained wifebeater, and a glower finally answered. “Yeah?”
Hector fucking Ramos. He looked enough like Victor that there couldn’t be any mistake.
Trees gave him a shark’s smile and forced himself to dial back his fury. “Hi there. I’m Scott from Pest-Away extermination services. I’ve been servicing some of your neighbors and they’re really pleased with the results. So I came to talk to you about an amazing opportunity.”
As Hector scowled at him, Zy and Tessa strolled by, hand in hand, heads bowed. Once out of Hector’s view, the pair veered around the side of the house to wait for his signal.
Trees scanned the empty room over Hector’s wide shoulder. The place was messy, but they didn’t look braced for battle. Perfect.
“I’m not interested,” Laila’s tormenter groused.
“Your neighbors, Jessica and Bill, across the way”—he gestured vaguely as he gave Zy a barely perceptible nod to indicate this op was a go—“you know them, right?”
“No,” Ramos grumbled.
“Oh, you should meet them. Nice folks. They started our service last month. Jessica swears nothing else worked before, but their roach problem is practically nil now, and she’s seeing far fewer spiders.”
“We don’t have an insect problem.”
“You do. You haven’t been here long, right?”
“A couple weeks.”
“Then trust me, you do.”
Zy and Tessa appeared at the back of the mobile home, through the glass slider. He managed to work the lock free, then motioned Tessa inside, nudging her behind a big leather sofa on the left, where she shouldn’t be visible if Johnson turned.
Trees rushed into a sales spiel to keep Hector distracted. “Did you know roaches will consume anything? Sweets, meat, and beer—for starters. They’ll also eat book bindings, wallpaper glue, pet fur, dead skin, and soap. If that’s not enough to unsettle you, they’ll actually gnaw on your toenails and eyelashes in your sleep. They’re tenacious little pests. Hey, they’re over 350 million years old, so they even predate dinosaurs. But the worst thing about them is that they carry thirty-three kinds of bacteria, six different types of parasitic worms, and seven pathogens—that we know of. Having roaches in your house isn’t simply a disgusting inconvenience. They can be dangerous, especially if you have asthma or allergies.”
As he droned on, Zy eased the sliding door shut. It squeaked, forcing him to dive behind the sofa.
“What the hell was that?” Hector tried to turn around.
Trees grabbed the man’s arm, as if this part of the pitch was urgent. “See? Insects. We’re half swamp out here, so they’re big. If you weren’t used to that where you came from… Um, where was that?”
“I didn’t say, and I’m not interested.”
“I don’t want you to regret passing up this deal. Have you asked the missus if she’s seen any insects? I’ll bet she has.”