"Diego, what's wrong with you?"
One of the armed thugs scratched his head with the barrel of his gun, looking puzzled at the tattooed man who was pretending to be calm. "Why do you look so flustered?"
"Uh... it's nothing," the tattooed man, Diego, said, making an excuse. "I was getting dizzy from hunger while driving just now. Almost got into an accident."
He would never admit that after more than thirty years of life with blood on his hands, he'd been scared by a so-called ghost at night.
'If word of this got out, would I still have a reputation?'
"Didn't you have dinner?" another man asked. "I think I have some food in my car. I'll go look."
"Go, get me something to eat," Diego ordered. "And while you're at it, recount the goods in front of me."
Li Wei stood right beside them, watching.
Over twenty men were scattered under the moonlight. Some shouldered guns, while others leaned against pickup trucks, smoking.
