Southbound Surrender (22 page)

“Damn,” I mutter as I open the door and scramble out. They don’t teach this stuff in trucking school, but …

It’s the woman I love. Plus, if I’ve learned anything in my twenty-two years of life, it’s that thugs can’t be trusted.

So I sprint around the grill of Cash Money and rush to Piper, pulling at her arms that are stocked full of apples. “Let’s go, NOW!”

“Cash, let go!” she yells back as the apples tumble out of her arms and onto the street. “We’ve got to pick this stuff up so we can go –”

“They’re stealing my load!” I sputter. Then she looks back to the woman who’s sitting on the road, barely pretending to pick up anything. Her legs are splayed wide open to showcase what she’s wearing underneath her skirt: nothing. I pull at Piper’s arm again. “We have to get back in the truck before they steal that, too. NOW!”

“Oh God,” she shrieks as she finally follows me back to the truck. I swing around the front to meet the surly eyes of a thug wearing a black hoodie. He raises his hand to display a switchblade. The blade glints in the sun as he jabs it toward me, but it stops short of my body. I’m not sure if the jab is a threat or a promise. All I know is that this guy looks certifiably crazy, and he definitely has plans to steal Cash Money.

“Back off,” he warns in a thick accent. He’s most likely Cuban.

Welcome to the Gateway of America.

I raise my hands in the air and that’s when I hear a sound pierce the sky that nearly breaks me in two. Piper’s bloodcurdling scream comes from the other side of the truck. The thug inches the blade closer, threatening me now, and I do what he least expects me to do.

I punch him.

Because if I’ve learned anything else in twenty-two years, it’s that I’ve outrun a gun with a punch. I’ll take my chances outrunning a knife.

His face is a mix of pain and shock. It gives me a split second to sprint around the truck to where Piper’s getting dragged by the hair at the hands of another thug. She’s grabbing her head and backpedaling. The terror in her eyes drives a stake through my heart, and I know I’ve got to get to her.

All I can think about is how sorry I am for bringing her on this trip. This beautiful girl that I want to spend the rest of my life with is being held hostage by a thug in the middle of the day in North Miami Beach all because I convinced her to take a ride with me.

I sprint toward her with no other game plan than to get her back. I’m pretty sure these guys have more knives and guns, too, but it’s Piper. I raise my arm to land a blow to the side of the thug’s head. I’m two steps away when I hear the booming yells. They’re coming in all directions, and I react like most normal, law-abiding citizens would react. I do what the voices tell me to do.

“FREEZE!”

I raise my hands in the air. The thug lets go of Piper’s hair like it’s on fire and is gone so fast that I don’t even get a glimpse of his face. Piper staggers back, and I lunge forward, barely catching her in my arms before she almost topples to the ground.

For the record, I scared the thug off first, caught her fully in my arms and swept her off her feet as she buried her head in my neck. That’s how I tell the story later to Big Dave and Hudson, anyway. I guess Piper’s innate “exaggeration” rubbed off on me by the end of our trip.

We’re staggering along the side of the trailer, trying to catch our balance, when a swarm of black uniforms surrounds us.

“PRAISE JESUS ALMIGHTY!” I yell with my hands raised. I nudge Piper with my elbow on the way up. She promptly raises her hands in the air as most of the police officers take one look at us and sprint the other way.

By the time Piper and I get to the end of the trailer, the scene looks like the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse. Most of the thugs took off on foot and a high-speed chase of the marathon variety has ensued. The pick-up truck is gone despite the fact that there’s five police cars surrounding the back-end perimeter.

“No,” I whisper as I look at the cut off trailer handles. The doors are wide open and still swinging. I grab the end of one and poke my head inside even though I don’t want to look at the damage. I see the first pallet cut open and about a dozen boxes scattered on the bottom of the trailer.

“Sir?” A voice pulls my head out of the trailer. “Are you the driver of this truck?”

“Yes, I am,” I reply as I squint in the brightness of the Miami sun. I shield my eyes with my hand before I feel a hard squeeze on my other hand. I look down to see Piper’s hand in mine and follow her arm up to her face. She’s smiling.

And I wonder how the hell can she be smiling after what just happened.

She squeezes my hand again and nods her head toward the man in a black uniform. He’s tall and thin, built like a runner, with a dark crew cut, and his name badge sparkles in the sun. Officer Singh. But he’s not Indian or South Asian like I would expect him to be.

“Officer Singh,” he says his name like “sign” instead of “sing” like I expect.

“Your last name is sign?” Piper asks.

“Yeah, some paperwork got screwed up somewhere down the line. My grandfather’s father or something. Makes my life a living hell. Our ancestors can leave us quite the legacy,” he replies with a smile.

This guy’s last name sounds like sign? You got to be …

That’s when I finally catch what Piper’s been squeezing the hell out of my hand for. His eyes are clear blue. I’m not sure if we should run the other way or record the conversation.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he says as he holds out his hand.

I shake it slowly before I reply. “Cash Rowland, and this is Piper Sullivan.”

“But you probably know that already,” Piper says with a raise of her eyebrows.

“No, ma’am. I did not,” he says as he takes a notepad out of his pocket and pulls out a pen. Consider this your lucky day, Cash Rowland. As far as I could tell, they didn’t make off with any of your goods.”

“Well, no kidding,” Piper whispers.

“We’ve been watching this part of the neighborhood for some time. They pulled off another gig like this a few weeks back. We were a little late to the scene that time. But this time, we were waiting for you.”

“You mean, you were waiting for
them
?” I ask, staring at Officer Singh.

“Yeah, we were waiting for them. Hopefully, it’s the end of the line for these guys. Our team should be able to track most of them down. It’s their last stop here,” he says.

“You got to be kidding me,” I say.

“What?” He looks up from his notepad.

“What is this, some kind of joke?” I ask. Before I can barely finish my question, Piper hits me in the arm. I’m waiting for the sky to break into two and a beam of light to shoot down from the clouds or for the ground to start shaking in the beginning of the apocalypse. But none of that happens.

“I’d like to get your statement so we can file a report,” Officer Singh says with his pen poised above his notepad.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Uh, 12:01,” he replies as he looks down at his watch.

“The delivery was due at noon,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “We’re late.”

“I think they’ll understand,” Piper says. “How can they not? We almost got robbed. They’ll be happy that everything’s still in one piece.”

“What does it take to get a police escort?” I ask, swinging the first door of the trailer shut as Piper moves to swing the other one shut. I’m about to pull the handle to lock it but then realize that it’s broken.

“We should probably spend a little more time detailing the scene…” Officer Singh’s voice trails as he looks around at the police barricade that his partners have made. Two officers are rerouting traffic while a few others are handcuffing the suspects they were able to hunt down. I catch a glimpse of the man in the black hoodie who threatened me with the knife being shoved into the back of the police car. A deep satisfaction rolls over my body.

“Looks like they have things under control here,” Piper says. “Please, this means so much to his boss. This is a huge account, and if we can get the delivery there as soon as –”

“How many blocks do you have to go?” Officer Singh interrupts as he shoves the notepad and pen in his pocket.

“Five,” Piper and I reply at the same time.

“You got it. Follow me.”

Chapter 14

We’re sitting in Cash Money, First Mate and Captain, on our way to the loading docks of HC Material Supply with a police escort. The back doors of the trailer open a bit further, and they gently swing back and forth in my side mirror. We roll slowly through the stoplights, following the sirens and flashing blue and red lights like we’re part of a presidential motorcade.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I reach over and touch Piper’s arm. I can feel it shaking beneath my hand. “Hearing your scream was terrifying. Oh God, I thought…”

“I’m fine, but that jerk pulled some of my hair out,” Piper replies as she rubs her head. “He took home a Piper Sullivan souvenir. I hope they catch him and that he rots in jail.”

“They will,” I say, white knuckling the wheel. My right hand throbs again, and I feel a warm trickle run down my skin.

“Your hand, Cash. It’s bleeding,” Piper says as she bends down and starts digging through her bag. She pulls out a pair of her underwear and before I can say anything, gently holds the fabric on my hand. “Here, hold these. What happened?”

“I punched a guy who tried to stab me with a knife when I heard you scream,” I say proudly. “It gave me enough time to get away and then see you being pulled by your hair. I’m pretty sure I could have lived my entire life without seeing that sight, though. That was horrible.”

“It felt horrible,” Piper rubs her head again.

I wrap the underwear, which by the way happens to be a cotton thong, or at least I think it is because the amount of fabric seems to be miniscule, around my hand and grab the wheel. “I’ve always wanted to be escorted by the police, holding a pair of underwear with my back doors swinging wide open after almost being robbed.”

Piper flashes a hesitant smile.

“Only with you, Piper Sullivan,” I add. “Do dreams come true.”

“You know it,” she laughs before she rests her head back. “God, we’re so lucky.”

“What are the odds by the way? Officer Singh? The universe might as well hit us over the heads with two by fours,” I say. The voice navigation chimes in ‘Arriving at your destination on the right.’

“He’s our fifth person,” I add.

“And the last stop,” she says, pointing to the building. “We’re here, and it’s 12:09.”

My phone rings then, and I don’t need to look at it to know who it is. It’s Viv, and if I answer the call, I’m going to get the world’s biggest ass chewing. I’ll spare you the profanity and screaming.

“We’re late,” I say with a grimace as I swing into the parking lot and crank the wheel to begin my backup to the loading dock. I’ve been at this delivery rodeo more than once, but a bead of sweat drips down the side of my face as I maneuver Cash Money back. I’ve never been late, and I sure as hell have never got hijacked during a delivery. All I can do is hope that they understand. I’m not going to wish because you know what I say about wishing.

I back the truck slowly to the dock and make sure the doors don’t interfere with the opening of the bay. Once we’re in, I turn the keys with my underwear-wrapped hand.

We sit in silence for a few seconds as my phone continues to ring, but I still don’t answer it. I want to talk to the receiving manager before I talk to Viv. I have to give it a shot.

“We’re really lucky, you know that?” I say as I unwrap my hand. I throw the underwear in Piper’s lap, assessing the bleeding that has pretty much stopped before looking at her.

“I know,” she whispers as she reaches out her hand to grab my arm. “Now go convince them to consider this delivery on-time. I didn’t almost lose all my hair for nothing.”

I hold her hand and lean over to give her a kiss. It’s sweet and soft, and she pulls away before I want her to so she can whisper, “Go.”

I grab my paperwork and hop out of the truck to climb the metal steps leading inside the warehouse. Officer Singh follows me up as we duck into the dim lighting and the musty smell of the space.

“Delivery,” I yell as I hold up the paperwork. A head pops out of an office twenty feet away.

“You’re late,” the man says as the rest of his body emerges. He’s stout and dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve work shirt even though it’s about eighty degrees out today. Brisk in his steps, he moves toward us with an efficiency that tells me he doesn’t take any crap from anyone. I groan inwardly.

“Cash Rowland, sir,” I say as I reach my hand out to meet his. But he doesn’t offer his hand, and instead, he folds his arms across his chest.

“I don’t care who you are. All I know is that you’re late,” he says before he lets out a loud whistle. The roar of a forklift sounds somewhere behind us and the beeping ensues. He points to Officer Singh. “Who’s this?”

“Officer Singh, sir. Miami Metro,” he replies without putting out his hand.

“What the hell is this all about?” he asks, arms now folded across his chest again.

“Sir, your load was hijacked five blocks west of here,” Officer Singh replies.

“Hijacked? You got to be kidding me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe – ”

“Sir –” Officer Singh starts.

“It’s Lopez,” the man interrupts. “Call me Lopez.”

“Look, Lopez. All the goods are here. Go check for yourself,” I say as he storms past me and toward the trailer that’s being unloaded. “We were late because we almost got robbed just a few minutes from here. But Miami Metro saved our asses and arrested most of the perpetrators. Have you had any loads stolen in the past few weeks? This doesn’t exactly seem like the safest neighborhood.”

“This is the neighborhood I grew up.” Lopez narrows his eyes at me.

I shove my hands in my pockets. This situation isn’t looking good.

“Lopez, a few weeks ago another truck was hijacked and the perps made off with about two hundred grand in goods. You’re lucky that this load even made it here,” Officer Singh steps in. “All in one piece.”

Lopez stops in front of the trailer, carefully watching and calculating as the forklift maneuvers each of the pallets out. He points to a pallet where a worker is examining the loose boxes that came out from the first pallet. “The boxes over there. Did they make it?”