Free Off the Wagon (Users #2) by Stacy, Jennifer Buck Page B

into the supposedly abandoned building next door. Carter peered through the windows one by one, searching for any sign of Barber, but he found nothing. Every window was as empty as the one before it.
    “Damn it,” he said under his breath.
    He just had to be at the right building. He felt like he had turned the city upside down looking for Barber, had searched every corner of every shady, seemingly abandoned, warehouse in the city. Maybe Walt’s nose had gotten rusty from so many years of not sniffing. Maybe Barber had gone on a bender and was actually out having the time of his life. That’s what normal kids his age did right? But Barber wasn’t a normal kid. He was a User and a drug abuser, a lethal combination.
    No, there was something off with the abandoned building that Carter couldn’t quite put his finger on. But what was it? He hadn’t seen any vans coming or going. He hadn’t seen any activity of any kind, despite his watching in the rain for many hours.
    “Get up. Slowly,” a voice said from over his shoulder. “And don’t try any of that fire shit.”
    “What the fuck is this?” Carter asked as he rose slowly to his feet and turned to face the mysterious voice.
    A man dressed in all black with a semi-automatic rifle stood with the gun pointed at Carter’s chest.
    “Put your hands down,” the man said. “I know what you’re capable of. Get them down quick before I shoot them off.”
    “You really think that you can take me?” Carter asked smugly. “Whoever sent you made a big mistake if they think one man with a gun can take me out.”
    “Boys!” the man called, and suddenly men in all black and wearing night vision goggles started coming out of the woodwork. All of them were armed with the same semi-automatic rifles, and all of them were aimed on Carter.
    “Holy shit. Nice work, you came prepared.” Carter congratulated.
    “Put your hands together, palm to palm.” And Carter did as he was told, placing both hands together, palms first. “Now cuff him.”
    One of the other men lowered his rifle and pulled a pair of specialized handcuffs from a pouch on his belt. The man slapped them on Carter’s wrists. The handcuffs were so tight, Carter couldn’t turn his wrists an inch in either direction. His hands were clapped together and any fire he unleashed from them would only burn his other hand.
    “That’s it. Let’s go,” the man said.
    They marched down the fire escape with Carter surrounded in the front and back. Carter considered hitting the jets in his feet and flying away, but without his hands to steer, he’d probably end up going head first into the side of a concrete wall.
    “Over here.” They stopped him in front of a blank wall. “We’ve got him. Open the door.”
    “What door?” Carter asked. “There’s no door here.” But suddenly the wall slid aside.
    What looked like a solid concrete wall was actually a thin panel that only looked like concrete.
    “You clever fucks,” Carter mumbled to himself.
    “Move it.” One of the men behind him prodded Carter forward with the barrel of his gun.
    The moment Carter stepped through the door he passed through some invisible barrier. Once inside, what had appeared to be an empty building, suddenly came alive with action. The bright flood lights blinded him temporarily, but they quickly adjusted to reveal a warehouse full of people hard at work. The layout of the interior was much like any other warehouse, complete with forklifts moving pallets, an assembly line, and an office overlooking the floor, but instead of your typical goods these guys were moving drugs.
    Also, the workers were all women, naked women. Carter had heard of such facilities before, not on this scale, but the women who cooked and packaged the drugs were naked to keep them from pocketing any of the product. Of course, if they were extra courageous and a tad bit fool hardy they could find other, more creative ways of sneaking out the drugs.
    The floor was