Page 81 of Diamonds in the Mud

“Shit.” I coughed and rolled over. The bag of drugs I’d brought with me to hand over for the cash was gone. Along with my wallet, motorcycle boots, and jacket. Both of my guns and my knife were gone as well. I’d wager they’d taken off with my bike too.

“Shit.” I groaned and wobbled as I hung out on my hands and knees. Droplets of blood fell from my mouth onto the matted carpet.

I’d let my guard down and it had cost me.

I wiped my mouth with my shirt sleeve and moved to stand up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark figure sitting in the chair across the room and stilled. My entire bruised body went on guard.

Until I saw the kid’s eyes staring blankly back at me and realized his throat had been slashed. He’d bled out all over his football jersey.

“Shit.” I sat down on the carpet, staring at the dead kid.

No doubt, the high school jock had been the one I was supposed to meet.

I closed my eyes and assessed how badly hurt I was. Not as bad as the kid, I thought quickly.

Bruised ribs, black eye, bloody nose. I reached up and touched it—not broken at least. Fat lip. I ran my tongue over each tooth, thankful that none of them wiggled.

I hadn’t even gotten a hit in. I hadn’t seen either man’s face. Hadn’t heard any names or seen anything other than darkness.

Was this a set up? Had Felix and Ben been the ones to jump me? The two men in the room had been roughly their size. Big. Full of muscles. Steel-toed bike boots. Still, something told me it wasn’t them.

It could be another test though. To see how I’d handle waking up in a motel room with a dead kid.

Looking around, I saw a pair of dirty white sneakers. They were a little small, but I pulled them on. Whatever happened next, I wasn’t going to deal with it barefooted.

I walked over to the window and glanced out. Yup, my Harley was MIA. Shit.

They’d taken everything I had, including my phone.

Could I chance making a call on the motel’s phone? I glanced at the thing sitting on the nightstand and knew better.

From what I could tell, the only thing leading me to the scene was a few drops of my dried blood on the already dirty carpet. I’d wager there was a hell of a lot of DNA on the damned thing.

I glanced down at the dirty white shoes and doubted they’d be missed. The kid was wearing what appeared to be a brand-new pair of Air Jordans. Expensive. Why hadn’t they taken those?

Using my shirt sleeve, I opened the door. I pulled my hoody over my head, and stepped outside, making sure no one was watching.

Quickly, I stepped into the alley and walked down a side road. I didn’t see so much as a car or another person for almost an hour. I stopped at an old gas station that had probably closed twenty years before and used the pay phone, which surprisingly worked, to call the emergency number.

Jasmine answered on the second ring.

“What’s wrong?” she said, sounding worried.

Half an hour later, a car pulled up to the back of the gas station and I slid into the passenger seat.

“There’s a fresh pair of clothes.” Jasmine nodded to the back seat. “We done here?” she asked me.

I rolled to the back seat, prepared to change out of my ruined clothes.

“No,” I answered. “I don’t think it was Felix or Ben.” I’d thought about it while waiting. “Not their style,” I mumbled as I switched the ruined clothes for the clean ones.

“Are you sure you don’t need medical help?” she asked as she drove.

“I’m sure,” I assured her and winced as I moved wrong.

“Shit, they fucked you up good,” she said, glancing in the mirror.

“Yeah,” I agreed.