¶𝗥𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 [H.S]

2.3

𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢

It was in the middle of the night when I got the first call.

Supposedly, Louis had caught the neighbors being noisy around the half-constructed property we recently bought. The stuck-up neighbors had called the cops on us a few times before, so of course, I didn't make a big fucking deal of it. Then, Louis called again, telling me it was serious this time, and they had phoned the cops with evidence in their hands. I wouldn't have even picked up the phone if it was nothing more than some property. But it was so much more, and I had invested a shit ton of money in that stash house. The green farm was hidden all nice, but that didn't mean I was going to risk them finding it out. There was no chance I was getting caught when I had everything planned to get ahead of the curve. 

"How long have they been here?" I asked Louis after I rolled down the window of my car.

He smoked a joint in his trashy golf, watching the house a few feet down. The summer rain wasn't helping us pick on the conversation, even though the women seemed to be yelling in distress. I could also catch dog barks, which was never good, especially if it was the cops' dogs. This neighborhood was gated, and strays weren't welcome around, but there were always a few that made it through. I hoped that was the case. 

"Oh, since— Do I look like a fucking camera?" Louis spat as I turned the engine off, "Dude, I told you to get this place covered in cams, but of course, you had to pull something stupid like have us look after it!"

The place was basically in ruins, and it would've woken even more suspicion if there were cameras. Plus, I liked torturing Louis by giving him the night shifts. 

"Do I look fucking reliable to you?" Louis was making a point here, but I didn't have time for his bullshit. 

"I'm paying you to be," I told him, pulling my hood over my hand before stepping out of the car.

Louis rolled his eyes, closing the door with a loud thud, "Not your bestest investment, boss."

Sighing, I pushed my hands deep inside the pockets of my leather jacket as we walked around the cars. "We should get rid of them," I pointed out.

"They're basically bags of bones... Let's feed 'em to the cop's dog!" he laughed, punching my shoulder with his fist. 

"Or slip some Viagra in their afternoon tea? That should be fucking easy for you, right?" I raised my brows at him. If I gave him anything that involved spilling blood, he would've gotten caught. He was shit at hiding his traces. And overdosing with Viagra wasn't going to leave anything that would point at us - Just two elders who still wanted to hit it. 

"Mine was more creative," he complained, making me roll my eyes. 

We walked to the police car, which was parked beside the open part of the construction. The cop was unfamiliar, and I had seen a few too many for my own well-being. He was probably new to the position, and was he an unlucky bastard to be called here? He might have the sniffer dog and all, but with no experience on his lane, this was going to be a child play to me.