“How did you know I was ‘otherwise engaged’?” I use air quotes for emphasis.
Dart chuckles. “Seemed likely. Patsy wasn’t in her room, Dan couldn’t find her, and you overslept. Thought it might have been because you overexerted yourself. You’ve got to be careful at your age, you know.”
“My age?” I growl menacingly. “Could still whip your fuckin’ ass.”
He laughs, “Sure, old man,” then ducks to evade my playful fist. He walks off to his seat leaving me mock glaring at him. See? This is why Dart and I make a good team, the ability to joke with each other without causing offence.
He’s not the only one. As I make my way to the head of the table, Salem, who’s already in his seat, leans back on his chair balancing with one foot against the table and calls out, “We gonna discuss this, Prez?”
Puzzled, I tilt my head to the side and pause my step.
“If you’re proposing taking an ol’ lady… Ouch.”
The last is in response to my playful slap around his head.
I take my seat and wait a moment for the table to settle. Waving the gavel rather than banging it, I kick off, not with my request to hear Token’s news, but something else instead.
“Seems I can’t have any privacy around here. Yeah, Patsy and I are getting into something, but it’s too soon to say where it will go. I’d appreciate some respect.”
“Aw, Prez.” Pennywise doesn’t look as contrite as his words suggest. “We don’t mean anything by it.”
“Yeah, we do,” Salem objects. “Prez doesn’t spend the night with a woman, so I’m guessing he’s serious about her. If they get together, she’ll be our first lady. If we vote her in that is.”
She’d make a fucking amazing one, I’m sure of that. And just why is what I tell them. “If that happens, she’d do great. She’s already brought up two moody teenagers, I’m sure she’ll be able to handle you assholes.” Now Salem’s given voice to it, I decide I like the sound of the handle ‘ol’ lady’ being applied to Patsy. But to make that happen… This time I do bang the gavel. “Token, what you got?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lost
“Got locations from the coordinates,” Token begins. “One’s in Tijuana, and the other is this side of the border.”
“Where?” Salem butts in.
“A fuckin’ Mexican restaurant.”
“I could eat Mexican,” Bones suggests. “Should we go check it out?”
“Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “No one’s just running off. We need to discuss this. First, that info is twenty-plus years old, and second, if the drugs are delivered to those premises, it’s unlikely they’ll be in plain sight. Can’t search while they’re open for business, and they’re unlikely to offer to show us around.”
“Still, it might be worth checking out,” Dart suggests. “If it’s a front, we might be able to gain some info without giving away our suspicions.”
“According to Trip Advisor, it’s good, but not fantastic. Top marks for service and value for money, as for the food itself the reviews are a bit mixed, but nothing more or less than most other restaurants,” Token enlightens us. “Some folks love it, some hate it.”
“So they’re doing what they can to appear legit,” I surmise. “How long has it been in business?”
“Twenty years.”
“Exactly? Or thereabouts?”
“Exactly,” Token confirms.
Hmm. Two years later than our information was dated. Still, it had been just plans. Maybe Alder took time to get his shit together.
“Has it always been in the same hands?” Dart poses his reasonable question. I tilt my head.
“Family business,” Token replies. “Looks like a son runs it now. Maybe the father retired.”
“Any police interest?” Scribe comes up with a good question. We all look to Token expecting him to already have the answer. While I was enjoying myself with Patsy, he’ll have been up all night digging deeper and deeper. I notice his eyes look red and tired.
“No. The only unusual thing is zero reports. Even the best run restaurants have problems in that length of time. Someone leaving without paying, or a brawl in the parking lot. There’s zilch from this place though.”
“They’d handle that shit themselves if they were into something shady,” Snips observes, scratching an itch on his nose.
Brakes looks at him sideways. “Or they’re lucky and haven’t had trouble.”
“In twenty years it would seem unlikely,” I suggest. “What’s the locale like?” I raise my eyebrow at Token.
“Not the best area, a Hispanic enclave for the most part. The businesses around are nine-to-five, nowhere else that would be open into the night. There is an auto-shop just behind it. Let’s just say, from the reviews, it wouldn’t give our shop a run for its money.”
Interesting. A place with an excuse to have activity after hours, and no one around to question it.
“I still say we need to go check it out,” Bones insists, sniffing loudly.
I don’t disagree, but I’m doubtful whether we’d find anything useful. If they’ve been running a drug trade through the restaurant for two decades, they’ll be polished as fuck. I wait for the treasurer to blow his nose, then address him. “And I still ask what would that give us? Okay, so you’d get fed, maybe visit the heads. But they’re not going to have shit out in the open, and I doubt there’d be a trapdoor in plain sight.”
Bones bristles a little at my dismissal.
“You just want a free meal,” Pennywise observes.
“Bones would do anything for a good chili.” Brakes and Pennywise exchange fist bumps.
Snips snorts.
Strangely, it’s Smoker who raises his hand. “I’ll go.” He might have been going to say more but is overcome by a bout of coughing. As Pennywise opens his mouth, Smoker recovers, holds up his hand, and continues, “I’ll dress as a homeless man, hang around their dumpster, maybe even beg for a few scraps.”
I stare at Smoker. It’s not a bad idea, of anyone he pulls it off. He’s got grey shaggy hair that never looks styled, a long beard that’s always plaited and hangs down to his paunch. He’s pale and thin, which I now know is from his illness. “It could be dangerous,” I warn.
“Look,” Smoker’s husky voice deepens, “let’s not beat around the fuckin’ bush. I won’t be around much longer. Let me work for the club while I can. My lungs are fucked, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight and hearing. As for danger? I’ve got the least to lose of anyone.”
There’s a second of silence while we digest that. It’s hard hearing.
“But your cough…” Pennywise observes.
“If anyone was sending someone in incognito, they wouldn’t send someone with a fuckin’ hacking cough. It will add to the authenticity. Might even get me a bit of sympathy.”
“I don’t like anyone going alone without backup,” I object.
Smoker turns his red eyes to me. “I gotta get used to it. Where I’m headed, I won’t have company.”
Another reminder that Smoker is dying makes brothers shift awkwardly. I realise my resolve to talk to the man about getting treatment would probably just be wasted words. He seems resigned and resolute that he’s not going to extend his life laid up sick with radiation treatments, or surgery which might not even work. Maybe I’d be the same, wanting to do something useful rather than just sitting around waiting.
My lips press together. “Okay,” I say at last. “You go in, Smoker. See what you can pick up. But,” I point my index finger toward him, “you don’t take risks, you don’t draw attention to yourself.”
Smoker nods. “I know Token’s probably seen images from Google Earth, but there’s no substitute for checking shit out on the ground. This auto-shop might be a cover for shifting the shit that comes through the tunnel if it’s close. It’s a way of storing transport at least. I’d like to check out the access points.”
“We don’t know, Smoker, if anythi
ng’s coming through the tunnel, or even if the tunnel is actually there.” Dart is talking sense. “Just keep your eyes out for anything suspicious.”
“I’ll go in tonight.”
“I’ll drop you off in a cage,” Pennywise, now on board, tells him. “You going to be able to walk a block? Won’t be able to take you to the front door.”
“I can do it,” Smoker insists. “And yeah, didn’t want to take my bike. Might be a bit of a giveaway.” He winks, then coughs.
“What are we going to do if we find there is a tunnel?” Grumbler, quiet up until now, asks.
Niran jumps in. “There’s a tunnel task force. Could report it anonymously, then sit back and watch Alder’s operation take a big hit.”
It’s an attractive option. Border control would be all over that shit, but it wouldn’t serve my purpose. “I want Alder,” I tell them straight. “Niran’s suggestion has merit, but unless Alder’s there at the time of a raid, he’ll get away scot-free yet again.”
“Getting Alder off Patsy’s back is what we are doing this for.” Dart backs me up, his eyes roaming the table in challenge.
Blaze is shaking his head. “How do we get from finding his tunnel to taking out Alder? That’s what I can’t understand.”
That’s the part I haven’t quite got yet.
“We find out if there really is a tunnel they’re transporting drugs through. Then, I say we question the staff.”
Salem’s made a good point, but it’s Kink who points out the flaws. “What if they are paid to turn a blind eye? The staff might not be involved at all.” He gestures at Token. “From the reviews, they run a business most people like. The motherfuckers involved in drug smuggling are unlikely to be able to carry that off.”
“Then I say we stake the place out,” Snips offers. “After hours, when the staff go home.”
“I can check for vantage points we could use when I go tonight.”
I nod at Smoker’s suggestion and take it up myself. “We wait for Smoker’s report. We can learn a lot from how he’s treated, what he can see, and how we might get eyes on this place. If they are running a second business, they might just run him off.” My eyes flick to Smoker’s in warning. He nods back. If challenged, he’ll leave it. “As for Alder, I need something to get his attention and smoke him out.”
“Threatening to blow up his tunnel might do that.”
“Or just the suggestion of involving Border Security might get him moving.” I exchange a glance with Dart. “Dan fucked up one of his routes. If this is his backup operation, doubt he’ll want the feds to close this one down.”
“But would he appear in person?” Dusty challenges clasping his hands and placing them on the tabletop. “Even if you threatened him? He’s not stupid, else he wouldn’t have remained hidden this long.”
“And what if he’s hiding in Mexico?” Scribe asks, looking around.
“We could use the tunnel to go to him,” Reboot pronounces, then swings around at the snort from beside him. “What?”
“You’d crawl through a tunnel? Not me, man.” Keeper shudders.
“I have enough problems riding in a cage.” Deuce also looks dubious.
I have to admit, the claustrophobic idea doesn’t appeal to me either. I eye the table, realising we’ve got off topic a tad, and unproductive discussions are just going to go around and around if I don’t bring a halt to it. “Right, let’s cut to the chase. Token will keep doing what he does, digging into the data and the background of this Mexican eatery.” An idea comes to me. “Hey, Pennywise. How about you eating out tonight? Then you’ll be close by if Smoker hits any problems.”
Our expert sniper shakes his head. “Can’t stomach Mexican food, Prez. It gives me the runs.”
“I’ll go,” Niran suggests. “I love a good fajita.”
“Want me as well?” Reboot offers. “I could do with a decent meal.”
Niran and Reboot bump fists together.
“Okay.” Niran’s solid and Reboot’s been patched in nearly three years now. I feel happier that I know Smoker will have someone at his back should things go south.
“Want us to hang around tomorrow in case you want to call church?”
“No can do, Brother.” Blaze addresses Brakes. “I’ve got a large piece to work on tomorrow, too late to reschedule now.”
Blaze manages our tattoo parlour, and as it’s Monday tomorrow, most will need to be at work.
“If there’s a need, we’ll meet in the evening. I’ll catch up with Niran, Reboot, Smoker and Token first thing and we’ll take it from there. Any more questions or other business we need to discuss now?”
“Yeah, anyone got any clothes that could pass for homeless shit?” Smoker ignores Salem’s comment of just what he’s wearing would work.
Keeper makes a suggestion. “They don’t need to be dirty, but ill-fitting would do, as if you’d raided a charity store. What about something of Bones?”
Bones is about the same height as Smoker, but broader. Smoker nods, acknowledging that would do.
“I got a sweatshirt that’s full of holes,” Salem offers.
“As long as it doesn’t stink of your armpits,” Smoker retorts.
Salem makes a show of sniffing said body area, while we all groan.
I bang the gavel. “Church dismissed.” Then, I stay seated while the brothers file out. All except one, that is.
“So,” Dart turns his head in my direction. “How are things between you and Patsy?”
Dart’s my VP and my friend. I lean back on my chair, locking my hands behind my head. “I was married before,” I begin, slowly. “Kim and I were a mistake from the start. Oh, I was head over heels in love with her, blinded to all her faults. I ignored everything that was wrong between us, so intent on making our relationship work. Never saw I was attempting the impossible until it was over.” I don’t really need to explain, I’d discussed my ex at length with him one night when I’d had too much to drink.
Dart raises his chin in encouragement.
“Never saw myself risking another relationship, once burned, forever shy of commitment. But Patsy? There was an instant attraction there, even more so than with Kim. Last night proved we’re more than compatible. I don’t know her thoughts, Dart, but I know mine. I want her, and already can’t see myself saying goodbye to her. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for. Crazy, huh?”
“Nah, not crazy.” Dart places his elbows on the table. “I knew with Alex the first time I saw her dancing but kidded myself I didn’t want her. Held out until, well, you know what happened, you were there, Lost. I stopped myself because it was ridiculous. She was nothing I’d ever looked at before. I knew she’d want a man who offered commitment, and I was so damn scared of tying myself down, I nearly lost her before I got my head out of my ass.”
He’s right. I’d been there and watched the car-crash beginnings to their relationship.
“If Patsy wasn’t intent on running, maybe I’d take this slower. But the thought of losing her, of never knowing where she is or what she’s doing has focused my attention. I want her, Dart. Want her to be my ol’ lady.”
“So Salem had it right? You’re claiming her?”
“Two-way street, ain’t it, Brother? Don’t know her views on that as of yet.” I told her she was mine, but doubt she realised I meant it, putting it down to being in the throes of passion at the time. “She might need more time to get her head around it.”
He’s thoughtful for a moment. “From what I’ve seen of her, she’d make a good first lady.”
“Would it put Alex’s nose out of joint?”
“Hell no. Alex already likes her. And you know my ol’ lady, she’s not like that. From what I’ve seen of Patsy, she’d never lord it over her, or any of us.”
She wouldn’t. I’m certain of that.
“As far as you’re concerned, Lost, I think you need someone in your corner. Sure, you’ve got us, but I can vouch for having someone to come home to, someone wh
o listens when you want to rant. And,” he winks, “who knows how to suck your cock just the way you like it.”
Just like that he has me imagining Patsy’s lips around my cock. Christ, looks like it takes nothing to get my dick swelling where she’s involved. Now I’m wondering whether she’s ever given head before, or whether I’d need to instruct her. I really have no objection to being her first.
But I agree. Someone like Patsy—someone who is Patsy, would ground me. Give me a purpose to get up every day. Make me want to be a better man.
Now, I’ve just got to persuade her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Patsy
Lost’s bed is comfortable, the mattress supportive and yet still soft, the comforter cosy in the air-conditioned coolness of the room. Best of all, it smells of him.
I knew he would have stayed with me if he got his wishes granted, but Token’s summons had woken us, and I knew he couldn’t refuse. I’d tried to entice him, but his club comes first. As it rightly should. He’d worn me out last night, giving my body a workout it hadn’t had for many years so I’d fallen back asleep. When I awaken the second time, I miss him. It dawns on me maybe too much.
Perhaps it’s best I have a few moments alone to process what’s happened between us.
On a sexual level, how can I begin to describe it? Lost’s way of making love is demanding, controlling and boy, did it work. There was no way my previous experience could match up. My orgasms were so powerful, for a few seconds I wasn’t sure I was going to survive them, and oh, that beard. I’ve no desire to try a clean-shaven man, certain they wouldn’t match up. As I stretch my legs, relishing the slight soreness that tells me it hadn’t all been a dream, I know I want more, if only to check the first time wasn’t a fluke. Yeah, sure. Conduct an experiment, why not?
Why not? Because I’m already addicted to his touch.
Even now it might be too late. I was stupid to jump into bed with him. If I want to walk away with my feelings unscathed, there must never be a repeat. But oh, how he’s spoiled me. I doubt I’ll ever find a man like Lost again. No other man would measure up. It’s not just his prowess in bed, it was his personality and how easy he’d made everything. I’d felt embarrassed, awkward, uncertain, but he’d taken all my worries away.
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