Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Preacher Prior rolled into the lot on his DynaGlide. He parked right in front of the main bay doors, smug bastard, and killed the engine. Chris could practically hear Easy groan. “Just finish up on this transmission,” Chris ordered. “It’s due out tomorrow.” He wiped his hands on a rag and tucked it back into his back pocket. He sauntered out to meet the President of the Badlands Buzzards. It was not lost on him that while Hawk and Tex pretended to be engrossed in their work, Hawk moved closer to the doors looking for a “tool” and Tex picked up an order form hanging on the wall and glanced at it.
“Preacher.”
“Shooter.”
Jack looked around the lot. Chris couldn’t tell if he was appraising the place or just stalling to create tension. Probably both, Chris thought cynically.
“Heard you had a nice vacation,” Prior said.
Chris only nodded.
“Well, now that you’re back. I got something coming up. And I wondered if I could get your assistance.”
Chris remained stoic. It wasn’t as though this was actually a request. “What?”
“Got a shipment of merch coming down from the border. Gonna pay for it in hardware. And I’m not sure how well some of my guys can handle themselves in a crisis.”
Chris and Jack spoke earnestly for a few more minutes until Prior nodded. He mounted his Harley again, saluted jauntily, and fired up the motor. As he rode away, Hawk, Tex, Doc, and Easy came up behind Chris.
“So,” Hawk said, “what’s the deal?”
Chris sighed. “The deal’s a deal.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Well, it seems the Buzzards are buying themselves a ridiculous amount of BC bud. And they are paying for it with an equally ridiculous number of illegal weapons.”
“Oh. So nothing hard then,” Hawk countered.
“Are you fucking kidding?” Easy replied. “Caught trafficking guns and drugs? Yeah, the hard part is dodging Bubba in Federal Prison for the next 50 years.”
“What kind of guns are we talking about?” Tex asked.
Chris shook his head. “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Tex?” Chris said.
“Lieutenant?”
“We need to talk.”
********************
Hayley gaped at Chris and the other men and refused to set down the beers on the dining room table. “You’re what?”
Chris grimaced at her. “You heard me.”
She looked around as though someone was going to pop out and tell her that it was all a big joke. “You- you can’t!” she declared.
“It is what it is, baby,” he told her.
“No. No, fuck that!” she cried. “You’re not doing this!”
Hawk scowled. “Starting to see why MC’s don’t tell their old ladies the details of their shit.”
“Well, we’re not an MC,” Chris replied angrily. “And I don’t hide things from my old lady. Just like she doesn’t hide anything from me. She fucking deserves to know, Hawk. It’s not like this is Iraq. No cop’s going to pull out her fingernails to make her give us up. She’d never do that.”
Hayley sighed and set down the drinks. “I’d never turn you in. I’d go to prison first.” She stated it so matter-of-factly that no one dared argued with her. “But I want to be there.”
Chris sighed. “Not happening, baby.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “This is all because of me, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Chris shook his head. “Slick, you have no skills.” Hayley was so surprised she nearly spilled the beers. “Sorry, baby,” he told her. “Now, I don’t have a big problem with women, trained women, in the hot zone, but I’ll be goddamned if my woman is going to put herself in danger. Especially when she can’t handle herself. You can’t even shoot a gun, Slick. I’m sorry but you’re staying home, where you’re safe, and that it all there is to that.”
She sighed. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t either, baby. But it is what is, and we’ll deal with it and move past it.”
********************
Hayley took the empties to the kitchen, which Chris normally told her not to do. But he let it go this time because he didn’t want to burden her with more details of his plan.
“Women in the hot zone?” Easy asked when she was far enough away not to hear.
Hawk rolled his eyes. “They’re getting shot at anyway, kid,” he pointed out. “They might as well get paid for it like the rest of us.”
Easy frowned. Hard to tell whether it was the idea of women getting combat pay or them getting shot at that darkened his mood. Chris wasn’t interested in guessing.
“Let’s go over it again,” he said, just wanting this to be over and done with and he and his boys having come out on the other side unscathed.
The next day, the boys, minus Tex, gathered at Burnout and headed toward the Badlands Buzzards clubhouse across town. Each was strapped with their Desert Eagle .44’s. Chris could almost feel the metal disk of the unit insignia on the grip pressing against his back. The clubhouse was really a warehouse surrounded by a chainlink fence and topped with razor wire. A prospect opened the rolling gates and they motored inside the compound.