The sun had just started its long climb into the sky. A chill still lingered in the air. We were in an empty parking lot behind a building I didn’t recognize. In fact nothing about the place was familiar. Two doors rolled up on the building. A box truck that matched the one we’d driven in rolled out. This one had small windows placed strategically in each side and in the back doors. We moved quickly. The man who’d pulled the truck out said nothing to us as we climbed inside. He climbed into the empty truck and pulled it into the building. The doors rolled back down and the transaction was complete. I played my part and kept watch around the area with my weapon ready.
Seconds later we were on the road in the matching truck. Only this time, the box wasn’t empty. Dozens of large wooden crates were piled in the center. The wood smelled moldy as if the guns had traveled a good distance.
I sat down on a crate and watched out the back window of the truck. Keeping an eye on all three sides wasn’t going to be easy, but it was still early enough that the highway was mostly deserted. The main scenario that had played out in my head during the ride over was that the feds or ATF agents would be on the trail of these weapons. It would be a fast way out of this whole thing, but I would be leaving Angel behind. And once I left, it would be hard to get back to her. She might even be swept up in the whole damn thing. Dreygon was a fool, and he took way too many chances with her life.
I glanced through the slats on the crates. It looked like there were two submachine guns in each container. I was sitting on about a hundred weapons with a street value of a hundred grand, a sizeable haul for someone like Dreygon, but not necessarily big enough to get the attention of the feds.
Lack of sleep, a long night and the rhythmic movement of the truck made my lids heavy. It was a struggle to keep my attention on the windows.
Jericho slid open the door between the cargo space and the front seat. “How’s it going back there?” he asked.
“It’s going. How much longer? I’m fucking starved.”
“We’ve got about ten more miles until we hit the turn off to the compound.”
“I wasn’t given a lot of details about this. Are we worried about cops or something else?”
“Dreygon’s usually pretty thorough and clean when he does something like this, so we’re not too worried about cops.” I smiled thinking about the fact that he had one guarding his valuable cargo. “Rival clubs get wind of this though and they try to sweep in and reap the rewards without doing any of the leg work . . . “ He looked back into the box. “Or up front costs. Pure profit if they can get their hands on it. Dreygon put just about everything he had into this load. Hopes to double his money.”
Gunner laughed but stayed his eyes on the road. “There aren’t too many banks that can give you that kind of return on your investment.”
“Unless you’re robbing it.” I glanced out the back and side windows. There was a small trail of dust kicking up in the empty landscape outside the side window, which could have been caused by any number of things. I kept my eyes on it. After a few minutes the stream of dust subsided. A gust of wind or a coyote running through the shrubs, no doubt.
Jericho left the sliding door open, and I was thankful for the flow of air. “So what did you say to Belkin last night?” he asked. “Cash said he looked as if he was about to have a stroke after you leaned over him.”
“I take it Belkin is the jerk with the skeleton hand tattoo?” I stalled for time on my answer.
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s a real asshole.” He laughed. “But you gave it to him good. What did you say to him?”
My mind had drifted away from formulating an answer to a new unexplained cloud of dust in the landscape. I went to the window and peered out.
Jericho glanced back. “You see something?”
“Don’t know. It’s weird but I keep seeing trails of dust being kicked up out there, and I can’t figure out what’s causing them.”
“Probably just some animals,” Gunner said. “This time in the morning they’re all out hunting. What the hell?” He slowed the truck. I leaned down to look through the front window. “Is that that fucking chicken farmer?” Gunner sneered.
The pick-up truck was sideways across the road, and there were empty animal crates strewn across both lanes.
Jericho shook his head. “Stupid old fool.”
My mind raced. I was a mess that day, the day the chicken farmer had yanked me out of his truck and dumped me to die, but chances were he would recognize me. Then two pieces of a puzzle came together, and I was stunned I hadn’t seen it right away. “Don’t stop,” I said quickly.