“f**k you say?” Chance looked away from the slip of paper.
“What? You deaf, too? I said you blind mothafucka.”
Chance held up a middle finger and allowed it to linger.
“Sorry, but you aren’t my type.” He smirked and opened the glove-box, pulling out two ski-masks. He kept one and passed the other to his partner in crime. “That’s the right address?”
“Yeah, it’s the right one.” He removed his glasses and folded up the slip of paper.
The men pulled the ski-masks over their faces and adjusted them so that they could see out of the eye holes.
“Come on.” Ralo made to hop out of the truck.
“Hold on. Let me hit this nigga Don up and let ‘em know we got this fool in our sights.” Chance withdrew his cellular and sent a text to the man that had put the contract out on the Super Thug. He deposi
