Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
No matter how much of a lone wolf he was, every time he visited the Smokeys, a longing deep inside reared its head. A strange creature trying to tell him he didn’t want the retirement in the Caribbean, but instead craved a whole crowd of people he knew and loved, eating dinner together and playing cards at cookouts.
Which made no sense, because Zolt had no family, didn’t want one, and knew better than most that what families appeared to be on the surface was usually nothing like their true colors.
Jack, the oldest of the brothers and tattooed up to the neck, greeted Zolt with a pat on the back. “That’s one hell of a machine you’re sitting on.”
“Still, it’s been acting up lately. Need to have it looked at by someone who knows their way around a beast like her. That’s why I came straight here,” he said to tickle Jack’s pride.
Jack smiled and pointed to the open garages beyond the dusty yard. “Sure, Rain and Leo are working over there, go have a chat with them, I’m sure they’ll offer you a fair price.”
“That’s what I was counting on. Thanks.”
Zolt was about to drive along, all the way to the garage in the back of the courtyard surrounded by buildings made of concrete slabs, when the familiar silhouette of the club president, Hank, emerged from a nearby building, which had a sign with the club symbol above the door.
“Wait! Did you really think you could come over and avoid shaking hands with me?” Hank asked, approaching Zolt with a wide smile. The man was youthful beyond his age despite deep wrinkles and longish hair that was completely gray. The signet rings on his fingers dug into Zolt’s flesh as they greeted one another.
“Always a pleasure.”
Hank pointed to the building next to the garages. “Spare me a sec, Zolt. I’ve got a business opportunity for you.”
Zolt’s brain lit up like the gold tattooed into his skin would have if it weren’t black and white. “You know I’m always eager to listen to lucrative propositions,” he said, leaving his emerald green Harley at the back of the gas station, by the staff entrance.
Hank led him through a bar area where a young woman was cleaning the carpet, and to a small office with not much more than a desk and a few large filing cabinets. Hank pointed out a chair and locked the door.
“You know about those Jackal sonofabitches, don’t you? They’re cooking meth in the area, and it’s creating tensions with the cops.”
Zolt frowned, uncomfortable in the plastic chair. “Shouldn’t you be glad the cops are interested in them? Might get them out of your hair soon.”
Hank sighed, walking around the room and gesturing animatedly. “No, it means the cops are putting heat on everyone, because the Jackals can’t handle their shit, and they’re pushing their product too hard. Which brings us to my proposition. I have a small shipment coming next week. Nothing crazy, but I can’t store it in the club or with any closer associates. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Jackals tipped off the cops and got us raided. I need a trusted man to safely store our coke until we’re ready to move it.”
Zolt’s mouth twitched, but he kept the smile down. He couldn’t show all his cards just yet. “You know I’ve done time already. If the cops found the drugs at my place, it might not look too good.”
“You’re an industrious guy, I’m sure you’ll find a good hidey hole.” Hank leaned against the wall, and despite all of Zolt’s focus being on squeezing as much as he could out of this deal, his brain stalled at the sight of the framed photo behind Hank.
It showed Leo with his dad and must have been taken a good ten years ago, because Leo was wearing a high school varsity jacket. Of course he was. When Zolt had been that age, he was already supporting himself through burglary. Leo wasn’t a saint, and neither was his family, but they did have a support system to keep the illusion of normalcy.
He wondered if Leo still had that jacket. Zolt would so love to fuck him in it.
“I might, but it’s gonna cost you.”
Hank nodded. “We’ll talk details within the next few days when I know the exact size of the shipment.”
Zolt licked his lips. The money might be good. His savings were constantly growing, and if he was lucky, he’d get the early retirement he wanted. The blue waters of the Caribbean, drinks, and hot men. No more danger or worries.
But if he agreed to this, it would take him another step away from the Jackal Brothers. It was dangerous to keep another club’s merchandise with those vultures staking claim on his business, and even more dangerous to guard it on his own.