CHAPTER 107: CHAPTER 55: UNDERCOVER? LET ME TEACH YOU

Eat dinner?

Are we really eating? Not fucking?

This invitation is full of temptation and excitement.

Of course, there’s also danger mixed in.

I never expected Amy to be this bold, inviting me over to her house for dinner again.

Is Johnny home? I don’t want to guess the answer, and I don’t know how to respond to her.

"Don’t worry, Johnny won’t find out."

This sentence exposed Amy’s real intention—she wants my dick.

Won’t find out? That means Johnny’s at home! Fucking dinner!

Some people just like to seek thrills, and Amy is one of them.

She’s a gentle, proper wife, but Johnny’s indifference makes her life miserable.

The idea of revenge has started to grow inside her.

Fuck!

"Can I refuse?" I know I’m still weak now; I need to be careful.

Amy got down in front of me, licking my cockhead with her tongue. "Do you want to refuse?"

"I need to think about it."

"If you come, I’ll let you fuck my ass."

"WHAT?"

"Do you want it? I’ve never let Johnny touch it."

Fuck!

"I need to think about it!"

"Then I’ll tell Johnny from now on we have to exercise every day, and you’ll have to pick me up every day."

Goddamn! I don’t want to be a fucking driver.

"Fine. I’ll accept your invitation."

Amy grinned in satisfaction, making a victory sign with her index and middle fingers. Faced with my compromise, she was like a victorious general. "You won’t be disappointed!"

"Should I look forward to it?"

"You definitely should!"

After a rinse, I drove Amy back home.

It’s now 5:01 PM.

I planned to find a fast-food joint, fill my stomach, and start tonight’s job.

Driving around looking for a parking lot, I noticed two maintenance workers standing outside my usual spot. They stopped me.

"Sorry, can’t go in right now."

"No way. I parked here yesterday. No one notified about any maintenance."

I looked at the two workers, pissed off. Their expressions turned a little odd.

One of them walked to the sidewalk. I could see him whispering to himself.

No phone, no cell, no walkie-talkie.

Talking to himself?

I was sure about their identities now—cops, or agents.

What the fuck did I get into?

I gripped the gearshift with my right hand, thinking about leaving this fucked up place. As a gangster, the only cop I want to deal with is Stella.

"Doghead calling command, Doghead calling command, there’s an antelope passing the parking lot." The worker watched my movements.

"This is Nest, let the antelope in."

"That’s dangerous, might trigger unexpected shit." The worker expressed concern, turning sideways to hide his motion.

But that move already gave away his identity. Real maintenance workers don’t act that shady.

"Doghead, if no cars come into the lot at all, it’ll just make them more suspicious. We gotta act natural. Notify Hyena, other animals coming in, keep it chill."

"OK! Hyena good?"

"She’s had pro training, top grades, we gotta trust our people!"

"OK."

The worker waved me through. "You can go in now!"

"WHAT?" Let me in? I was about to leave.

Seeing him wave, I stepped on the gas and gripped the wheel, pulling into the parking lot. This indoor lot has three levels, and the third is open air.

Reached the rooftop. In the distance, a man with binoculars was cursing, pounding the windowframe hard with his fist. He’s rocking a vest with three letters printed: DEA,

United States Drug Enforcement Admin!

This guy is a DEA agent, and the parking lot workers are his team.

"Shit, antelope entered the hunting ground, everyone heads up, antelope in the hunting ground. Hyena, copy, answer!"

Southeast corner of the top deck, beside a Chevy SUV, stood a tall woman. Black hair tied in a ponytail, black baseball cap on her head.

Wearing a tight black tee, draped with a sky-blue denim jacket.

Why the jacket?

Easy. You can’t let your gun out in public—jacket hides the pistol!

Stella frowned and surveyed the area. "Hyena, copy!"

"Is it dangerous?" The white guy next to Stella asked, nervous. He’s Jack, one of Stella’s informants, standing right beside her, working his fingers nervously, scared as hell.

If his cover gets blown, he’s dead meat.

"Don’t worry!" Stella patted Jack on the shoulder to calm him down. DEA agents are all around this place. "When’s the seller showing up?"

Jack eyed his phone, nervous. "They’ll be here soon. Those Mexican guys are stone cold. You gotta keep me safe."

"I will. You got your twenty grand as a snitch fee—do your job."

"I will." Jack spread out his hands, showing he’d do his best!

A black Mercedes van pulled up right in front of Stella, four Mexican dudes jumped out.

One man stood by the driver’s door, using it as a shield. Two others positioned themselves at the rear, popping the trunk.

But the two guys didn’t do shit, not like in the movies.

No backpacks, no reaching in pockets.

Just standing at the trunk.

From another angle, you could see inside: no drugs, just two M870 shotguns!

The door guy’s right hand was on the seat, and resting there was an MP7 submachine gun!

These dealers were seriously packing.

Only the dude in the suit walked out into the lot’s lane.