Green Ice: A Deadly High by Christian Fletcher Page B

to tell him about it but then she just woke up and went all crazy. She was trying to scratch my face and bite me and shit so I locked her in there. I called Luiz again and then you guys showed up.”
    “Are her eyes all like black and shit?” Trey asked , waving his finger around his own face.
    “Yeah, her eyes are all kind of weird,” Jorge said, nodding excessively.
    “It’s the fucking ice that’s making these people react like that,” Trey hollered. “Did you sell any more samples to anybody else?”
    Jorge looked a little sheepish . “Yeah, Ernesto sold a few samples on the road on the way down here. Nothing substantial, just a few small bags.”
    “I fucking knew it,” Trey barked. “I thought there was something badly wrong with those guys we saw. And that girl…Jesus.”
    “Shut up, Trey,” Mancini growled. He didn’t want the death of the girl to be known to anybody else. “Where is Ernesto now?”
    “He’s still in his room, as far as I know,” Jorge said. “We had a heavy night last night. Luiz had told us not to go out but Ernesto said it would be okay.”
    “Did he take any of the green ice himself?” Mancini asked.
    Jorge shrugged. “I don’t know. He still had a few of the small sample bags with him. He went into his room late last night with a chica from the bar we were drinking in.”
    Alarm bells rang in Mancini’s head. “And how much of this shit has Luiz got with him?”
    “Around twenty pounds of the product.”
    Mancini groaned and covered his mouth with his hand.
    “Fuck, man,” Trey spat. “Dude, that stuff is a ticking time bomb.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
    “Get dressed, Jorge,” Mancini barked. “You need to tell us exactly where Luiz has gone to in La Paz.”
    “Where the fuck is La Paz, man?” Trey asked.
    “A long way from here,” Mancini groaned. “Way down the bottom of the Baja Peninsula. Keep him covered while he gets dressed, I need to make a call.”
    Trey stepped forward, nervously raising his handgun and pointing it at Jorge. Mancini marched to the front door and moved out onto the balcony. He dialed a number on his cell phone and waited for the call to be answered.
    “Yeah?” Eddie Reinbeck grunted.
    “Eddie, we got a real fucking problem down here,” Mancini hissed.
    “I don’t want to hear about problems, Marco,” Reinbeck barked. “I only want to hear – Yes, Eddie, we’ve got the stolen merchandise and the cash back , understand?”
    Reinbeck could have had the word ‘ stress ’ tattooed on his forehead. He was a big guy, both in stature and weight and looked as though he was ready for a heart attack. Several ex-wives had prematurely aged him, with deep worry lines creasing his face and a shock of rapidly graying hair. He’d fled his native New York City to escape from divorcee number three, several years back. Eddie had come to work for Oreilles in LA, with the offer of employment passed through mutual acquaintances.  He’d wasted no time in shacking up with a woman named Brianna Mantra, a blonde wannabee actress, who had subsequently fleeced Reinbeck of all his savings and absconded to Las Vegas with a young male model.   
    “Listen to me, Eddie,” Mancini growled into the phone, turning his back on the line of apartment doors. “That shit that Luiz has cooked is poison. It’s killing people on the first hit. He’s all the way down in La Paz with most of the gear trying to do a deal with the cartel. So far, he’s left a trail of death in his wake.”
    “So, who gives a crap? He’s made a bad batch, is all. Even more reason to shoot the motherfucker.”
    “It’s not that straightforward, Eddie. This green ice, or whatever the fuck it is, is turning these people into some sort of fucked up wrecking machines, who want to kill everybody.”
    “Just get the fucking stuff back, Marco,” Reinbeck sighed. “If you have to go