Page 60 of Double Shot
“Lach got up fifty-three minutes ago, he went to get us coffees and maybe a spot of breakfast, I told him a box of bagels, or donuts; whatever he found that wasn’t a franchise offering.” I gestured for her to take a chair. She did so, almost insolently. It was a good thing Lach was away, there was a very definite charm she had, half asleep and sitting at the table in nothing more than a tight-fitting shirt and panties. He would have her over a chair or the table in a moment, if she were ready or not.
“He’s coming back?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s coming back, why don’t you take a shower and wash your hair?” I suggested. The apartment would need to be neat when we left, and I had no desire to clean up any messes I didn’t have to. I would rather our Poppet be dressed when he arrived.
“K,” she grumped, before getting up and shambling to the bathroom. She was adorable. It was easy to forget that so much of this was new to her, and it wasn’t that long ago that she was living in a pile of boxes and never traveled farther than she could easily walk.
Lach returned while she was showering. “How long?” he asked.
“Fifty-three,” I replied. “You owe me.”
“Fuck all, I was sure she wouldn’t sleep more than forty-five after I got up.” He dug in his pocket and handed me a crumpled wad of cash. “I got you a regular coffee, cream and sugar, and a box of assorted bagels.”
“How do you assort bagels?” I asked.
“Fucking hipsters, there’s a green one; they said something about bacon avocado, I don’t know. I just got an assortment,” he said. “She in the shower?”
“Yeah.”
“You have any fun?” he asked.
“Let her shower. She can’t seem to take off her clothes without one of us fucking her,” I gave him the sternest look I could. He shrugged and went and knocked on the bathroom door. I felt my jaw tighten in slight annoyance, but rather than enter the restroom, I heard him tell her something about vanilla macchiato something or other. I relaxed some. I was beginning to quite prefer the Lach who listened and wasn’t quite so insolently defiant on every small thing.
When she finally came out, I was done with one of only two of the plain bagels in the box while Lach was picking at the unhealthy green shaded bagel. He wasn’t enjoying it, but he also seemed to refuse to be bested by a strange piece of bread. Sadie picked up her coffee, a towel wrapped around her head, and one around her chest, and she smiled at the taste.
“Are you just trying to bait him?” I asked, but I wasn’t annoyed in the slightest with her.
“Maybe you?” She gave a flippant laugh.
“You seem to feel better this morning,” I said. She shrugged, looking a bit guarded, and took a bite of the other plain bagel, casting a curious look at Lach and his green one.
“Oh, no, Prince Charming, you don’t eat the food if it’s green, you throw it back in the dumpster,” she said. He tossed it down on the table, and stood to face her. I could see his eyes on her, I knew what he was thinking, because on some level, I was certainly thinking the same thing. What would happen? We would fuck, the three of us, and then half of the day would be gone, or longer.
“Not now, not now,” I said. “We need to make a plan, there will be plenty of time for all of that later. Come now.”
“Fine,” Lach said, sounding a little cross. She wasn’t even dressed and hot out of the shower, the thought was damned appealing. I couldn’t fault him.
“So, what now?” Sadie asked.
“The best news is that we have plenty of room right now. Everything we did in Oberhausen has completely blown up in the Cartel’s face. If you didn’t see the news, there are multiple agencies who were suddenly pulled in to deal with them, the DEA apparently didn’t even have them on their radar despite them being in the billion-dollar club for heroin.”
Sadie’s eyes bulged. “Billion?”
“Yes, billion. Looking at what parts of their portfolio I could find, the Escadrille is somewhere in the vicinity of ten billion euros a year in heroin trafficking.” Even Lach’s eyes grew large at that.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“Yeah, but now they have half a dozen agencies with letters for names on their arses, and it looks like the French have seized Mont Saint Chauvignon as a drug forfeiture. The DEA and State department have jumped on the bandwagon hitting their financial assets in the US, France, and Pakistan.”
“Why Pakistan?” Sadie asked.
“That’s where the poppy fields are,” Lach answered. “That’s where the tribal warlords are usingtwenty-first century slavery to harvest those flowers to make opium and push it out onto the market. Pakistan, Afghanistan, that entire part of the world is the Poppy Basket.”
“Poppy, not poppet?” she asked with a wan smile. I stood up and went to her, putting an arm around her.
“Poppy, like the flower, no relation to ‘Poppet,’ I promise.” I smiled.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, looking at me curiously.
