Chapter 163: The Girl Selling Cupcakes 2
The DEA team members were armed with various weapons, and the agent in front was holding a shotgun. They swiftly shot open the door lock next to Caroline, then kicked the door open.
"Federal agents! Nobody move!" Under his tactical mask, Hobbs yelled at the two women beside him without any mercy.
"I don't know anything! I don't know what's going on! Whatever happens in there has nothing to do with us!" Caroline was terrified and quickly stepped aside with her hands raised, nearly scared out of her wits.
"Easy, easy," Max said while trying to calm Caroline down. She positioned herself with Caroline and stepped out of the way with practiced ease: "Don't worry, it's just a routine raid. This kind of thing happens all the time in this neighborhood."
"Who are you?!" Hobbs blocked the two women like a massive wall.
"Hobbs, you're scaring them! They have nothing to do with the drug dealer you're raiding. They're just two broke girls selling cupcakes."
Walking behind the team, unarmed and wearing only a half-face tactical mask, the "DEA officer" was casually eating a Tootsie Pop.
Even without hearing his voice, Caroline and Max recognized him by his jawline alone, and simultaneously exclaimed in surprise, "Ron! What are you doing here?!"
"Ron, I've told you a hundred times, you have to use code names when we're on operations!" Hobbs turned around and glared at Ron furiously.
"Okay, Buzzard, whatever you say, Buzzard," Ron said nonchalantly.
"It's Eagle One. My code name is Eagle One."
"But you're completely bald. I think Buzzard suits you better." Since they were all acquaintances, Ron simply pulled off his mask, casually ran his fingers through his thick hair, and looked at Hobbs innocently: "I mean, there's not a single hair up there. I've got a buddy named Arthur who's got the same situation, but he won't try the home remedy I suggested—rubbing Rogaine on his scalp twice daily. You want to give it a shot?"
"I shave my head by choice, I'm not naturally bald!" Hobbs was so furious his eyes bulged. If there weren't so many people around, he really would've pulled his sidearm and put a round in Ron's head.
"Okay, if you say so," Ron said, not bothering to argue about hair growth anymore. He turned to Max and Caroline. "What are you two doing here? Does the bakery offer late-night delivery with pretty waitresses now? Trust me, that's not a smart business model."
"A beautiful woman walking alone on the streets of LA after dark is basically asking for trouble."
"Well, it's not as dangerous as you think," Max said matter-of-factly. "Those lowlifes only target people like you who look like they've got money. Nobody's gonna mess with a waitress just trying to make ends meet."
"Those guys just want quick cash to score their next hit and get back to their high."
Max, having grown up in the projects, had a perfect understanding of street criminal psychology.
Ron believed that even if she did run into someone with bad intentions, Max would know how to handle herself.
"I'm not worried about you. I'm talking about her—Caroline," Ron said, his tone more serious. "Do you honestly think you can handle the LA streets at night?"
Ron wasn't being harsh without reason. Caroline was different now. A week ago, besides her good looks, she wouldn't have been much of a target.
Plus, Caroline's appearance didn't match the typical preferences in the hood. The guys around here usually went for curves—women built like Max.
But now things were different. Caroline had $10,000 in her bank account, and it wasn't just a one-time thing; she'd be pulling in thousands to tens of thousands almost every month.
That kind of money was enough to keep a junkie supplied indefinitely.
"Hey, I'm not the same person anymore, okay?" Caroline protested. "I've been living here for a while now. I'm basically the same as Max, who was born and raised here!"
"Oh my God," Max said, holding her head. "How can you be so clueless?"
"No, there's a huge difference. If Max were walking these streets alone, I'm sure she'd have plenty of ways to handle any situation. But you're different."
"The next morning, sanitation workers would find pieces of you in different dumpsters across the city. Even if they searched everywhere, they'd never be able to put you back together—because there's always some rich person on a transplant list who needs whatever good organs you've got left."
Caroline was stunned by Ron's brutal honesty.
"Bring him out! And get that evidence to the lockup. Don't lose it this time like you did last month!" Hobbs shouted, and DEA tactical officers escorted a long-haired man out of the apartment.
It was the same guy Caroline had mistaken for Max in the hallway earlier.
The evidence bags the officers carried contained seized drugs and a Glock 19 they'd confiscated from his place.
"Boss, this guy tried to resist, but I immediately disarmed him with a tactical maneuver and a takedown. Pretty slick, right?"
The officer, speaking with a slight Southern drawl, approached Hobbs. If Ron hadn't known he was Hobbs's old college roommate, he'd be in for a surprise.
"Hobbs, you guys finish up here. I'm taking the ladies out of here." Ron waved, then left with Caroline and Max.
Some things couldn't be discussed in front of Hobbs. With his experience, he'd definitely figure out there was something suspicious about Caroline's crowdfunding operation.
"Max, why are you still doing late-night deliveries? Isn't the money Caroline raised enough?" Ron asked as they exited the building. "You're not still working at that diner, are you?"
"Sure, that money's enough, but it only covers rent and renovation costs. The location you found us is great, but the rent isn't exactly cheap."
"If this one hadn't accidentally destroyed our original oven, the foot traffic at that location would've been enough to break even within the first few months."
"So the oven I got you is broken again? How'd it happen this time?" Ron looked at Caroline, who hung her head in shame over her mistake. "Never mind, I won't ask. But I think the money you're making from late-night deliveries is still pretty small change."
"How about this—I'll buy you another oven. Don't refuse too quickly. Consider it my investment in your cupcake business. If you ever decide to franchise or go public, just remember to count my shares as founding investor stock."
(End of Chapter)
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