Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“I didn’t land shit.”
“You convinced a beautiful, smart, blazing hot woman to move in with you, brother, when she didn’t even know you. And even crazier, was you convincing her to take care of your damn kid! So yeah, I might be a bit envious.”
“You get plenty of women. You just grease yourself up first so they don’t stick.”
“Despite my good looks, high intelligence, excellent charms, and impressive career, if you haven’t realized it yet, women take a lot of fucking work. Especially when trying to avoid ones like my ex-wife. I don’t want to repeat that fucking mistake again. I just need to find some sort of sweet arrangement like you have.”
“Good luck with that. But wait, did Sloane tell you about our arrangement?”
“Just that you’re keeping an eye out for her sister. She didn’t say why.” Crew’s silver eyes met his. “I can guess, though.”
“By using your special agent spidey skills?”
“They do come in handy.”
“Can we get past you busting my balls and get to why you’re here?”
“If we must. But a good host would’ve offered me a beer already and not made me get my own.” Crew groaned as he stood and headed into the kitchen. “So damn rude. No hickey and I have to help myself.”
A minute later, a beer appeared in front of Decker’s face. He grabbed the already opened bottle and stared at it. “You didn’t spit in it, did you?”
“What’s a little shared DNA between brothers?” Crew flopped back onto the couch and kicked his boots up onto the coffee table. He took a long swig of beer and then sighed. His gray eyes landed on Decker. “Okay, go.”
Decker took a tentative sip first but when he didn’t taste anything foul, he took a longer chug before saying, “Okay, so… That trip was a fucking blast. I hope I never have to do that shit again.”
“I’m sure you’ll put all the details in your report, but… Talk to me.”
“Well, first… I have to say I have more respect for long-haul truckers now because that really fucking sucked. Though, I’m sure they have better setups than Chewie did with his rig.”
“Chewie?”
“Yeah. The man chews tobacco non-stop except for when he’s sucking on a cigarette.”
“Sweet,” Crew responded dryly. “Hope you didn’t have to make out with him to keep from blowing your cover.”
Decker fake-gagged. “I would’ve quit on the spot.”
“Yeah, well, you did quit on the spot. About five thousand times until I blocked your number.”
“Anyway, I tried to get as much info out of him as I could without making him suspicious.”
“What d’ya learn?”
“Besides that trip hammering home the fact I despise country music? That they’d like to cut out the Russos from the equation and buy directly from the cartel.” He lifted his palm. “Wait, not the cartel, the Los Malos MC. The man never slipped once with that fake name.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know who they really are.”
“Could be. It’s not like he’s as smart as a DEA senior special agent,” Decker razzed.
“Yeah, well, everyone can’t be so damned blessed.”
Decker shook his head while biting back a laugh. “So yeah, sounds like once their club coffers get fatter, their ultimate goal is to cut out the Russos. However, at this point, the cartel won’t deal with them directly. Could be a trust issue or a financial one. Who knows.”
“Damn. Russos aren’t going to like that shit.”
“Fuck no they won’t. We were worried about war breaking out between the Demons and the Angels or Knights, but if the Russos declare war on them, instead… Christ!”
“It’ll be quick and bloody,” Crew stated the obvious.
“Yeah,” Decker agreed, “it won’t last for decades like the Angels and Warriors, that’s for damn sure. The Russos won’t hesitate to chop those fuckers off at the knees and do it quickly.”
“Along with chopping off their hands, their tongues, their heads… It might end up a massacre.”
“Well, at least our Demon problem would be solved.”
Crew pursed his lips as he considered that possibility. “Yeah, the Demons, but it won’t stop the flow of meth into the state. It’ll just knock out one of the major players. The Russos will still get the product, they would just find new mules.”
“And for the type of scratch the Demons are making for being the Russos’ bitches, somebody else won’t hesitate to take the job.”
“Fuck no.” After taking another swig of beer, Crew swiped a hand over his mouth. “What about the lab house?”
“It wasn’t an actual house. It was a trailer.” That probably was someone’s house at one time before it was turned into a temporary meth lab.
“Of the mobile home or travel trailer variety?” Crew asked.
“A double-wide located out in the boonies near the Las Palmas area. Once we pulled up to it, I dropped a pin on the map on my phone to document its exact location.”