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)
Only he didn’t have to wait, which surprised the fuck out of him.
“Gettin’ it from the Los Malos. An MC you don’t wanna fuck with.”
The intel was right. The Demons used a fake MC name when discussing the cartel to cover their tracks. “Los Malos? Never heard of ‘em. They outta Mexico?”
“Yeah.”
“So, Viper struck a deal with a Mexican MC?”
Chewie slammed his palm on the steering wheel and groused, “Ain’t that what I just said?”
Careful, Decker. Don’t piss him off or he’ll clam up.
The Demon might be spilling info the task force already knew but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t slip and give Decker a little golden nugget they could use in their investigation.
“They bring it across the border in liquid form, hidden in shit like gas tanks. Once it makes it into Texas, they got a house where they turn it into shards.”
Those yellowish shards were… “Ice,” Decker muttered.
“Yeah. That’s what we’re gonna be haulin’ back. Then we break down the kilo we take in payment for street sales and deliver the rest to the buyer.”
“Damn. And then rake in the dough.”
“The best part is we ain’t payin’ for shit except the cost to haul it.”
“Why’s our club the middle man? Why not sell it all and keep all the fuckin’ profit?”
“First off, dumb fuck, that’s a fuckload of scratch to pony up at one time and us tryin’ to cut them out’s gonna cause some problems.”
“Who’s them?”
“Nobody you want to fuck with.”
“Russians?”
Chewie spat into the can. “Ain’t the Russians. No need to know who the buyer is. But yeah, Viper’s been talkin’ about either cuttin’ them out completely or buyin’ some extra keys from Los Malos to pad our coffers.”
On what planet would La Cosa Nostra just let the Demons cut them out and then take over selling drugs in the greater Pittsburgh area? None. At least not without bloodshed.
That also didn’t take into account that the second the Demons started selling meth, or even weed, in Dirty Angels or Dark Knights territory, it wouldn’t only be the Russos out for blood. They’d have the Angels and Knights, a united front, after them. Possibly starting an MC war.
Five kilos went a long way once broken down and mixed with filler for street sales. To sell it all, they’d have no choice but to expand their territory more than they had already. And doing so would step on a bunch of toes.
Toes that would stomp them into the ground.
“Why cilantro?”
“Hides the scent. And transportin’ it’s a good excuse to head to the border.”
“Makes sense. Figure Mexico’s the largest exporter of cilantro. Can’t stand the shit myself. You dump the load, then?”
“Fuck no. It’s delivered to a warehouse. Gotta make it all look legit. Plus, that puts extra scratch in our pockets.”
Chewie reached over and turned up the radio, causing Decker to grit his teeth. One, because he really did hate country music and two, the man was making it clear he was done answering questions.
But still… He got more out of the biker than he expected.
He settled in for the rest of the long, boring ride and hoped Chewie gave him more openings to ask more questions. He just needed to remember to document everything he learned in his daily report.
A few hours later, at one of their piss breaks, Decker checked his phone and saw a text from Crew: Report back ASAP. Houston DEA on notice. Won’t interfere unless you need them.
He responded with a thumbs up emoji.
A glance into the passenger side mirror on the truck tractor showed Chewie pissing on one of the trailer tires while a lit cigarette dangled precariously out of his mouth.
Him taking that time to smoke gave Decker an opportunity to shoot off another quick text. This time to Rez.
Brother, need a favor.
Decker kept his eyes glued on the Demon as the biker tucked away his dick and zipped up his fly. With hands on his hips, the man turned to stare into the wooded area that hugged the parking area as he took a few more long hits off his cigarette.
Then he flicked the lit butt out into the brush.
Asshole.
A majority of the brush fires Decker responded to along roads and highways were due to someone tossing their damn lit butt out of the window. Not only was it littering, it could leave behind devastation.
But he doubted Chewie would give a shit.
His phone vibrated with Rez’s response. What.
He quickly typed: Need you to keep an eye on Sloane and Val. She’s got your number but would rather you check in with her daily.
Who the fuck is Sloane?
Decker had purposely kept Sloane under wraps because he didn’t want to deal with the bullshit from his brothers. And he wasn’t sure how long Sloane would be around, anyway.
However, he did give her his fellow Blue Avengers phone numbers, so it would be smart to advise them of who she was in case she needed them. He’d get that done when he got back from Texas, if Rez didn’t run his mouth first.