“Lynch won’t lay a finger on me.”
Professor steps closer now that I’m out of the way. “That so?”
“We should get out of here,” Zoe whispers.
Kai’s hand is already back in the waistband of his jeans.
“Professor!” Jade squeals, running from the back room in his direction.
Confused looks mark all of our faces as she jumps into his arms and wraps her colorfully-tattooed limbs around his neck.
Dawson grins as Professor tries to free himself from the woman’s clutches.
“What the fuck?” Kai whispers more to himself than anyone else.
When Jade is back on her own two feet, she steps out of the way. What I thought was going to be a gun battle moments ago has somehow transformed into two big ass guys hugging each other. The back clapping echoes around us, and I don’t even know what to feel. My heart is still racing from the adrenaline that shot up when Professor walked up, ready to confront Dawson.
“Kai.” Professor waves in his direction. “This is Viking, the guy I told you about.”
“One of your friends from Cedar Junction?”
“That’s the one,” Professor answers, and then they all start talking.
Cedar Junction happens to be the prison Lynch spent five years in, and the place he also met Professor.
My night out having tattoo fun has suddenly turned into a fucking prison family reunion.Chapter 22Briar
“Well this place will never be featured on a ‘Visit Richmond’ advertisement,” Hornet mutters as we climb off of our bikes.
Lynch and Luis discussed our drop-off point, and the abandoned industrial site seems the perfect place. It’s a barren wasteland, forgotten by the blueblood aristocrats of Virginia. Hell, I imagine even the bums and vagrants don’t come down here. There’s a sinister cloak over the entire area as if the lost souls of murder victims are still floating around and unable to escape.
“It’s far from prying eyes.” Lynch points to the one way in and one way out design of the decrepit buildings situated in a massive rectangle of weathered concrete and broken glass. “We won’t be snuck up on.”
“Unless they got here before we did and are already training their fucking guns on us,” Ronan warns.
My eyes, already on the half-broken windows on the second and third floors, double their focus. Nothing seems amiss, other than the lurking unease and shiftiness of the air, but that doesn’t stop the thrum of caution pumping through my veins.
“Just be vigilant guys,” Lynch says. “Luis benefits from us more if we sell the drugs than if he does a one-off rip.”
I’m on pins and needles to the point my hands are shaking when the murdered-out Escalade pulls into the small opening the buildings create. It seems like the type of vehicle members of the cartel would drive, but we can’t ever be too sure.
Each of us is standing behind our bikes, even though they don’t offer much coverage if bullets start flying. We’re carrying an ungodly quantity of cash because Luis insisted on small bills as his form of payment. We had to split the money between all eight members’ saddlebags, much like we will have to do with the dope to get it where it needs to go.
The SUV rolls to a stop, too close to be anyone but the cartel, but we don’t calm even the slightest. Especially not when that big scarred faced motherfucker climbs out from the backseat. He glares at us from about twenty yards away, his face hard and menacing.
“And I thought I wore a lot of black.”
I sigh at TJ’s ability to spew bullshit even in a moment like this.
“That’s the fucker I was talking about the other day,” Ronan says on a hiss. “Gives me the chills just being this fucking close to him.”
“Chill out,” Lynch grits through his teeth.
“I kind of want to pick his brain,” TJ says.
“Sick fuck,” Chains replies, but there’s laughter in his voice.
The driver doesn’t exit the vehicle, but the front passenger side door opens, and a man I’ve never seen before steps out.
“El Presidente,” the passenger greets as he walks toward us. “I pray your ride here was safe and without adversity.”
“It was fine,” Lynch replies. None of us have taken our hands off of the butts of our weapons, but the Colombian in front of us doesn’t seem worried in the slightest.
The big guy goes to the back and lifts the hatch before angling his head around to stare in our direction.
“Your guys will need to get the merchandise out of the back. El Asesino doesn’t lift his hands for anyone but Sen?or Jiménez,” the guy in front of us instructs.
Lynch nods, and Hornet, Ronan, and TJ make their way to the back of the vehicle.
“Is this for me?” Jiménez’s mouthpiece points to the bag at Lynch’s feet.
“It’s all there,” my president says as he slides the bag of cash toward the man with his foot. “Count it if you like.”