Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I reach out and drag my finger over the cold steel. “You’re working with the cartel moving guns?”
He shrugs, and for a moment I see the smallest flicker of unease in his gaze. “We run guns. That’s our legacy. Might as well make it count. With these shipments, we triple the bankroll. That means better everything for you, for me, for the whole crew. Only thing I need? Make sure the product isn’t shit.”
I almost laugh. “You want me to quality check the sniper rifles you’re moving across the damn country for criminals who could kill you without a second thought?”
He leans in, closing the gap between us. “That’s exactly what I’m doin'. I want to make sure everything I’m bein’ told is legit. You know guns better than anyone I know.”
I study him, searching for anything that’ll let me off the hook—guilt, hesitance, even a single hairline fracture in his confidence. But it’s not there. He’s all-in, and by showing me this, he’s dragging me under the current, expecting me to swim.
“You think this’ll end well?” I ask, voice tight. “One fuckup and we’re all dead.”
He doesn’t flinch. “That’s why we don’t fuck up.” He gestures at the warehouse around us, the skeletons of old cars, the rust and dust and the chemical tang of gasoline. “This is the future, Sable. We either get ahead or get chewed up.”
I want to protest, to tell him that “future” is a stupid word when you’re dealing with men who cut out tongues for fun, but I bite it back. I know I don’t get a choice here, and he knows it, too.
“Fine,” I say, snatching the rifle. “But I’m done with this once I have checked these guns. I want nothing to do with this crap you’re pulling.”
“Got another problem first.”
I shoot him a look.
“We got competition. The Fallen Sons hit one of the routes last night. They torched a whole shipment. They don’t want us runnin’ guns, and they’re makin’ sure we know it.”
Oh, shit.
The Fallen Sons are a bigger MC, and they’re slowly taking over most of the territory around these parts. I know Gage is hoping this Cartel business will boost their protection and status, but if the Sons don’t allow them passage, then they have a bigger problem on their hands.
“What has that got to do with me?” I mutter, flipping the gun over, trying to not gasp at how fucking incredible it is.
“They’re goin’ to be the reason we get killed.”
“And?” I snap.
Gage growls, low. “You’re not hearin’ me. The Sons have it in for us, but you, you could walk in there, talk to the right idiot, and maybe get them movin’ in a different direction.”
Oh hell no.
That is not something I am willing to do.
“Fuck that,” I say, voice hard, and I mean it. “You want me to play diplomat, seriously? After you flipped a switch over the very thought of me going near anyone from that MC?”
He narrows his eyes. “You got a better shot than any of the assholes we got on payroll. The Sons, they seem to like you. Especially your little hero.”
“I don’t have a death wish, and that’s exactly what will happen if I do this. No. I’m not doing it. You’re going to have to find another way, or, you’re going to have to kill me, because I refuse.”
I place the rifle down, not wanting to continue this conversation any further. “Product’s exceptional,” I say. “You will all be happy.”
Gage’s mouth tips up on one side. “We’re not done with the conversation, Sabie.”
Asshole.
“Oh. Yes, we are.”
He grins. “No. We ain’t.”
I turn and walk out, effectively ending it.
Deep inside, my stomach twists, because I have a bad feeling that he is going to make me do what he wants.
That is a terrifying thought.
Gage doesn’t play clean, even with me.
He’ll do whatever he needs to get what he wants.
No matter the cost.
I HATE THIS FUCKING town. Hate it so much that I curse Gage in my head as I speed past the same run-down bars and stores. Overpriced gym, pawn shop, three vape stores in a row, all staffed by clones of angry, underpaid twenty-year-olds. It is a shit hole, and if it wasn’t for the club, I wouldn’t be here.
I need to get out for the day.
It has been three days since Gage threw me into the deep end with the Cartel weapons. Three days since I told him to go to hell and stalked out. He has been on a run, which has given me some peace and quiet, but they get back today, and I don’t want to be there when they do.
So, I decided I’m going to go shopping in the town closest to where the Sons’ compound is.
It has more, and I’m in desperate need of a few new outfits.