Right. He didn’t like cold coffee. Lyndon felt like an ass for forgetting. He took a deep breath and tried to settle himself, pissed that truck had rattled him so much. Just a few more hours of this…Curtis yawned, glanced at him, and Lyndon followed him out the door.
Lyndon had parked a small distance from the building, but they both could tell the moment they stepped outside someone was at the van. Two someones, actually. Somehow they had the doors on both sides of the vehicle open and were unloading the containers directly into a beat-up looking four-door.
Both Lyndon and Curtis froze. The person closest to them, a white man probably in his fifties, looked up and noticed them. The expression on his face indicated he knew who they were—or at least who Curtis was—and he grabbed the last
