No one left the Reapers easily. It could be done; hell, we weren’t some gangbanging fucks. But it wasn't easy. Because once you left, you couldn’t come back. We needed to not only get the okay to get out, but we needed to leave in good standing or we’d be fucked. A good way to do that was money. Buying our out. To do that, we needed cash. A lot of it.
The run with the cartel, it was pretty profitable. I had to give Marcus that much credit. The last payday dished out twice as much cash as what went into my pocket the month before. A few more runs and I’d be able to start thinking seriously about my future. Lucy’s future.
That pixie wouldn’t get out of my fucking head, and I was starting to resolve myself to the idea she wouldn't be going anywhere either. Did I want her to get out? Not one girl in my life ever stuck around in my mind long enough to get to know her, but Lucy was different. Could I see myself settling down, having a wife, a kid or two? Fuck, would I even know how to be a dad? I never had one. My mom did well enough, tried as best she could, but I had nothing to compare to.
Hell, Lucy deserved better. She didn’t come from this life, this was just a pit stop for her. A stroke of bad luck landed her where she was, and I couldn’t pretend that didn’t matter. It did. For both of us.
After rolling for over an hour, Tick motioned for the next turn off. We had to pick up the truck and get back on the road. Three more hours at least until we made the pick up, and the Disciples were riding ahead to keep the passage safe. Jasper was stuck with the Disciples while Tick and I joined the small handful of our own guys on the exit ramp. I didn’t like the increase of the load without the increase in protection any more than Tick did, but we had to make do with what we were given. It wasn’t like we had many choices at the moment.
“This is the place?” I pulled my bike up to Tick.
“Yeah.” He looked at his phone again, then up at the sign on what looked like an abandoned building. “This is it.”
“It’s right on the highway.” I jerked my thumb. The building could be seen from the main road, and it didn’t look like there were any back entrances. “Let’s go round back.” We rode through the lot and rounded the building. No access roads, just more empty land.
Tick parked and started looking around. “There’s no one here.” He checked his phone for the time and then cursed. “Where the fuck is the truck and Bernardo’s guys?”
I grabbed my phone and dialed Marcus.
“Was the bbq cancelled?” I asked, rolling my eyes at Marcus’s code words.
“No. Did you get the address wrong?”
“Fuck no. We’re here, no burger grilling though.”
“Fuck. Give me ten.” The click of the line echoed in my ears. I looked between Tick and Burner.
“Get Jasper and tell them to turn the fuck around.” I tried to get Marcus back on the line while Tick started to do that. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Nothing. Voicemail.” Tick shook his head. “He knows to keep his shit open while he’s with those assholes. We should have sent two of our guys. Who gives a fuck what that Bernardo said, he’s not running this shit on this road.”
My phone vibrated in my hand and I answered right away. “Marcus?”
“Get back on the highway. Three exits down, then get off. The party was moved. Once you're off the highway, go three miles down the dirt road, house on the left.”
“Got it. Have you heard from Jasper?”
“No. Get going.” He hung up again.
“Looks like they moved the pick up.”
“Right. Just happened to move it since we talked yesterday.” Tick revved his bike. “Fuck those guys. Who’s fucking with us, Disciples or the cartel?”
“Does it really matter?” I snapped my helmet strap and rode off around the building, heading back to the highway.
I didn’t trust the Disciples, and I sure as fuck didn’t have any love for the cartel bastards, but throwing us off schedule didn’t serve anyone’s purpose as far as I could see. Why was the pick up changed?
When we finally arrived at the new location, the truck was sitting pretty waiting for us. The
driver sat in the cab with the door open and a handful of his buddies stood outside the truck glaring at us as we rode up to it.
“Sorry, the location was changed on us,” I greeted the men. The driver nodded, but the others said nothing. I doubted they spoke much English, and I spoke about a word in Spanish.
“We’re late now. Let’s go.” The driver wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and stuffed it back in his jeans. He looked down at his men and rattled off some instructions in Spanish.