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Wade flashes his usual smug grin, except it’s not. He’s nervous, but trying to hide it. “Thought you were gonna ghost me.”

Silence.

The buyer stops a few feet away.

“Got it?” he asks.

Wade taps the backpack. “Right here.”

“How much?”

“Depends how much you want.”

“All of it,” the man says.

Wade hesitates for a heartbeat, then grins. “All of it’s gonna cost you a pretty penny, bud.”

“I know.”

“You got the cash?” Wade gestures at the sedan. “Show me. I want to see what we’re working with.”

“Show me the product first,” the man counters coolly.

Wade grits out, “You can check it after I see the money.”

“Open the bag, Wade.”

My breath catches. The buyer knows his name. These things are supposed to be anonymous and stuff, right?

Maybe that’s just in movies…?

Never mind. The way Wade’s entire body stiffens tells me I’m right. The man shouldn’t know his name.

“How do you know my name?” Wade demands.

“Open the bag.”

“Nah, man. I think we’re done.” Wade steps back, turning for his truck.

“Mercer Street.”

Wade stops abruptly.

The man’s voice is quiet, but it carries as he says, “Storage unit fourteen. You broke the lock at 2:19 Tuesday morning.”

Wade answers nervously, “I ain’t been on Mercer.”

“The cameras disagree.”

“What fucking cameras? I ain’t been anywhere near Mercer.”

“Six packages,” the buyer says, ignoring Wade.

Wade’s skin turns to ash. He swallows, then stammers, “I—I bought these from a buddy. Don’t know what you’re on about, man.”

“There’s no use in lying, Wade.”

“I’m not lying!”