by Melinda Minx
No phone. I need to keep cool and maintain Stone’s cover.
I roll the window down. “Yeah? What’s up?”
He takes the helmet off. He’s a hard-looking man with a frenzied look in his eyes. “Joanna?”
I nod.
“Stone sent us to come get you.”
“I tried to call him when I saw you,” I say, “but his phone is off.”
“I’m Luger,” the man says. He reaches a hand through the open window. I take it reluctantly and shake his hand.
“Who’s this big guy?” he says, looking at Logan.
Logan starts to cry.
“I’ve got a way with kids, I guess,” Luger says. He looks back at me. “Stone lost his phone, that’s why he sent us to come get you.”
“Why didn’t he come get me himself?”
Luger’s nostrils flare, and his eyes widen. “You wanna be the old lady to an outlaw, you learn to not ask fucking questions. Now you gonna follow us, or you want me to drive?”
“I’ll follow,” I say.
Fear has nearly paralyzed me by this point. I just want this man away from my son and me, and I’ll say anything to accomplish that.
“She said she’ll follow!” Luger shouts.
“Good,” another voice says. “It still don’t mean he’s clean.”
The voice is eerily familiar. I recognize it, but I can’t quite place it.
A second figure walks up beside Luger and takes off his helmet. It’s Lenk.
“Remember me, sweetie?” his gravelly voice says.
I dive for the phone, but he grabs hold of my arms and tears me away. Logan wails and screams.
“I’ll drive her car,” Lenk says. “Get her phone.”
“Stone won’t let you do this to me,” I say.
“Oh, yeah?” Lenk says. “Stone doesn’t know we’re doing this. Not yet at least.”
Luger reaches down and opens my door from the inside, then he grabs the phone off the passenger seat.
“I’ll drive her car over,” Lenk says. “Bring someone around to get my bike.”
18
Stone
I don’t get to choose my own crew this time around. I’m stuck with the dredges that Lenk chooses to give me. Fifteen guys, half green recruits, half meth heads.
I sigh. If all goes according to plan, I won’t need them. All they have to do is look scary enough to spook the fight out of the few cartel guys we go for. My main worry is that these rookies and meth heads will get itchy trigger fingers. When the biggest risk is that things don’t go according to plan, fifteen unstable and scared bikers is not reassuring.
Among all of these guys, Aldus is the only one I’ve spoken to at length. I don’t trust him, per se, but at least I know he has a heart beating in his chest.
“Alright,” I say. “You all know what we’re going to do.”
I still have to prepare them for the worst case: us against the full force of the cartel.
They nod. The rookies look scared stiff, and the meth heads look hungry. I’ll have to make sure to give the product to the rookies rather than the meth heads; they’re less likely to just ride off into the sunset with the drugs.
“Surprise is our biggest asset,” I say. “They’ll have spent everything they’ve got hitting the feds, and they’ll assume it’s a straight shot back across the border. Their guard will be down, and they’ll be celebrating, that’s when we hit them. We hit them hard and fast, before they can get their guns raised. Got it?”
There are some mumbles and dumb looks from the crowd.
“I asked you a fucking question,” I shout. “Give me a fucking answer.”
“Got it,” a few murmur.
“Louder!”
“Got it!” they shout.
I pace back and forth, raising my hands. “What are we going to do? Who are we going to fuck up?”
“We’re gonna fuck up the cartel!” someone screams.
“Hell yeah!” another says.
“Can we get a taste of that crystal?” someone asks.
I walk up to him and stare him down. “What did you just ask me?”
It’s a 30-something guy who looks like he’s 50. He gets real quiet as I glare at him.
“Well?” I say, impatience oozing into my voice.
“I heard it’s a lot of crystal,” he says. “That’s all. Was just wondering if we can sample it.”
I look around the room, locking eyes with as many men as I can one by one. Finally I ask, “Do you guys think we should be sampling Lenk’s product?”
There are a lot of heads shaking, but I don’t see their conviction. I need to convince Lenk I’m with him until the moment I finally betray him and dig the dagger into his back. More importantly, I can’t risk these meth heads snorting up everything the moment we grab it and going berserk. I need to have them as cool-headed as possible.
“So,” I say, leaning even closer into the man who asked if he could sample. “What do you think? Are you going to sample a single milligram?”
“Uh,” he says, leaning back from me on his barstool. “Someone’s gotta test the product, and--”
I ram my boot into his stool as hard as I can. The stool flies out from underneath him, and I see his face register surprise as his body topples backward. He slams onto the hard, concrete floor flat on his back.
“No fucking samples,” I hiss, turning away from him. “Is that clear? This shit was seized by the feds, and the cartel wouldn’t risk such a big operation for shitty product. It’s quality; we don’t need to snort or shoot it to confirm. Got it?”
The nods are more enthusiastic this time. I’ve scared at least most of them out of it--for now--but when they have those big bags of drugs in their hands, the temptation will come back. I’ll have to keep a close eye out.
The panic button is in my pocket. Ramirez told me I’d need to press both the big “lock” and “unlock” button at the same time, and hold just the lock button down for three seconds afterward to trigger the signal. Her tech guys didn’t want me accidentally sitting on it and triggering the signal. Even with this setup, I can still trigger the thing while reaching into my pocket and not looking at the device.
I see no reason I’d need to hit the button yet. The only thing that has me slightly worried is the curious and total absence of Lenk, Tank, and Luger. I expected Lenk to show up in person if only to remind everyone here who’s really in charge. And if not him, either Tank or Luger. There’s still ten minutes before we roll out toward the border.
Just when I finally decide it’s too late for any of the three to show, the door swings open and Luger struts in.
I nod to him. A respectful nod I’d give to a comrade. I hate his guts, but I have to keep up appearances. Luger just cackles and makes a beeline for me.
“Stone,” he says, grinning.
“Luger.”
“I know you’ve gotta roll out any minute now, but I got one thing to show you before you go.”
He pulls out his phone, thumbs through some screens, and then holds it up to me.
My heart freezes in my chest, and then just as fast, my blood boils. There’s a photo of Jo, face red and stained with tears. Lenk is behind her, his hand on her shoulder. She’s holding Logan, who’s also crying.
Before I realize what’s happening, Luger is against the wall, and my hand is wrapped around his neck.
He smiles wide even as I choke the life out of him. My anger doesn’t die down, but my instinct to protect my family kicks into high gear. What will happen to Jo and Logan if I kill Luger?
I fight against my rage to loosen my grip, and slowly my muscles and fingers obey. I let go of Luger’s throat and snarl at him with unconcealed contempt. “If you fucking--”
“No one’s gonna lay a hand on them,” Luger says. “As long as you’re on the up and up. Got anything to tell us now? Before you roll out?”
One thousand choices race through me. If I tell him the absolute truth right now, then me, Jo, and Logan are all as go
od as dead.
As I see it, there’s only two real choices. I can go on with the raid as planned, and hope that no one suspects anything when the cartel is conveniently in disarray. There must be at least a few guys in my crew who are going to report to Lenk at the first sign of anything weird going on. I underestimated Lenk already, do I dare do it a second time? If Lenk sees anything that’s too convenient for me, he might just call the whole thing off and kill my family right there on the spot.
Choice two is to hit the panic button. That will call the cartel off entirely. That is beyond even Lenk’s suspicions. If the cartel simply never attacks, he’ll have to call me back. Then I’ll do anything he wants me to, so long as Jo and Logan go free. We may never be together that way, but I can at least ensure they both live.
“I got nothing to say, Luger. Except that if you so much as touch one hair on--”
“Yeah, yeah,” Luger says. “You’ll protect your family at all costs, got it. That’s what I wanted to hear. So make this raid work for us if you want to keep them safe.”
He turns around and walks away. My crew is pretending not to look--pretending I didn’t just put one of Lenk’s lieutenants in a chokehold against the wall with no consequences.
“Let’s go,” I shout. “We can’t fuck this up.”
I reach down and hold the panic button in my hand. The temptation to let the operation go on as planned is burning at me. But no, I realize now that the plan was flawed from the get-go. Lenk was never going to have any of the drugs on him. Not even Luger or Tank are going to get any dirt on their hands.
Fuck, Lenk is twice as smart as I’d given him credit for, and underestimating him has put my family’s life in danger. But now isn’t the time for self-pity--I have to become laser-focused on saving Jo and Logan. They’re all that matters.
I hold the buttons down, for a few seconds, release the one, and hold the other down for a good five seconds...just to make sure it sends the signal.
Two hours away in Tucson, Ramirez is probably swearing and shouting. I’ve just become an outlaw again. They’ll arrest me as soon as they get their hands on me now, and not even my MC trusts me. I’m completely alone. Even after I save Jo and Logan, they’ll probably only ever see me again in a prison jumpsuit. Assuming Jo’s even willing to come see me after this fuck-up.
We get on our bikes and head toward Tucson. The shipment was scheduled to move out in just over two hours, on a desert back road so that the staged fight between the cartel and the feds doesn’t catch anyone in the crossfire.
But now? The feds are probably fuming at Ramirez that her guy on the inside called the whole thing off. My guess is that they’ll take the I-19 and go straight south into Mexico through Nogales.
I’m not supposed to know anything beyond what Lenk’s told me, so I keep the crew on the original plan, riding down just north of Tucson, then breaking west onto the backroads.
We ride for an hour and a half. It feels fucking wrong to be going in the opposite direction of my family, but it’s the only way to protect them. As soon as we realize the shipment is south of the border, I’m making a sharp U-turn and riding straight for Lenk. I’ll give him whatever he wants. He’ll probably want me to take the fall for something again, and if that keeps Jo and Logan safe, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
As we approach Tucson, one of my crew rides up beside me and shouts to me over the engines. “Bad news, man!”
I try to pretend I’m surprised. When he tells me the shipment is long gone, I’ll pretend I’m furious.
“Our lookout just spotted more cartel crossing the border in Sasabe!”
Shit. The feds called the deal off, but the cartel didn’t agree. Now the staged raid is going to be a real raid, and the only way to keep Jo and Logan safe is to attack the full strength of the cartel head-on.
“You got Lenk’s ear?” I shout to him.
The guy’s name is Raker. I’d figured him for washed up, but he must be one of the guys reporting on me to Lenk.
Raker nods.
“What’s he want us to do?”
“He said to tell you that either you succeed, or they die.”
We drive on, and Raker tells me where to go. Lenk apparently has eyes and ears everywhere, and he tracks the shipment and the cartel as we ride.
As we get closer, it becomes clear that the shipment left early, but took the backroads to the southeast rather than the southwest. The feds probably sent it out the moment I hit the panic button, and they hoped by leaving early and in the other direction, they could outmaneuver the cartel.
We’re southwest of Tucson, in the Coronda National Forest. It’s what passes for a forest in the desert: some thick shrubs clinging to the sand.
“Any word on the cartel?” I shout over to Raker.
He’s got some kind of earpiece in, so I never know when he’s getting updates. If Lenk really wanted me to succeed, he could at least feed the information directly to me. He knows this is a long shot, and he doesn’t care. Holding my family hostage will give him the greatest chances of pulling this off, and that’s all he cares about.
Raker shakes his head, but a few moments later I see him holding a finger to his ear. He shouts out all in one long-winded sentence, “Sicarios were hiding out in a shithold town called Tombstone, popped out of fucking nowhere like corpses out of the grave, hit the feds with fucking rocket launchers!”
“Where are they now?”
He holds his finger to his ear and repeats my question.
“Just North of Sierra Vista...heading southwest into the Corondo! We’re almost on them!”
We’re in front of them. We can lay a trap.
“Give me the fucking earpiece, Raker!”
Raker hesitates, then says, “Not supposed to!’
“I can do this,” I say, “but if I don’t have the information I need, we’re all dead. You know what the cartel does to prisoners?”
He pulls the earpiece out and hands it to me.
“This is Stone,” I say. “Lenk, I can fucking do this. I’ll get your drugs, I’ll beat the cartel. But I need your fucking word you’ll let them go. I want to talk to Jo.”
“No time for this shit,” Lenk’s voice says through light static.
“Your word,” I say.
“When you get the operation in Utah running,” Lenk says, “that’s when I’ll let them go. I don’t want to touch any of what you are jacking. You get the heat for this operation. You own it.”
“Put Jo on,” I rasp.
There’s a pause, and I hear Jo’s voice. “We’re in an abandoned res--”
Her voice is muffled, and Lenk laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I got them in my family’s old restaurant. Your pops used to like eating here, though I don’t think your kid likes it so much. He won’t stop crying. Don’t matter, though, I’ll be moving them to a place surrounded by Fallen Phoenix boys. You won’t be able to rescue them unless you do what I say.”
I suppress my rage and anger; I let it build up deep in my gut. I’ll need it all later if I finally get my shot at him.
“I need to know where the cartel is, Lenk. There’s only one road within the Coronda that goes most of the way to the border. We’re on it now, and the cartel is north of us. I’m going to set up on a hill, hide on the south side of it. We’ll catch them off guard as they crest the hill. But I need good info.”
“I got GPS on Raker,” Lenk says. “I know where you are. Get behind that hill, you’ve got maybe ten minutes before they’re on you.”
“What about the reinforcements?” I ask.
He lets out a dry laugh. “Hit them hard and fast, Stone, because you won’t be able to surprise them twice.”
“How long?” I ask.
“Maybe 45 minutes until the reinforcements are on top of you.”
Alright. I’ve gotta go fast, and some of my crew will probably get intercepted on the escape. I just have to make sure I don’t get caught, and that I get enough drugs out to keep Lenk’s hands off Jo
and Logan.
We pass over a hill, and I signal the whole crew off the road. We weave our bikes through the brush, and once everyone is off the road, I stop my bike.
I dismount and shove my bike into one of the thicker pieces of brush. “Everyone stash your bike and hide it as best you can. Get your weapons out and ready, and hide yourself somewhere with a clear shot of the road.”
“If the sun hits the chrome,” someone says, “they’ll see it from miles out!”
“Not on this side of the hill,” I say, pointing. “They might see a flash of chrome as they crest the hill, but our bullets will be on them by then.”
One of the meth heads looks at me with wild eyes. “Want me to set up some bike bombs, boss?”
“You volunteering your bike?” I ask.
“Uh…”
“Yes, get bike bombs in the brush closest to the road, with men manning them. Five of them.”
Aldus comes up on my side. “What the fuck is a bike bomb, man?”
“Fallen Phoenix specialty,” I say. “Look.”
I point at one of the meth heads unscrewing his gas tank. He opens his bag and pulls out a metal tin, then inserts the nozzle inside.
“That’s kerosene,” I say.
The meth head pulls out a long sheet of something that looks like a dryer sheet.
“And that’s flash paper, the slightest spark will ignite it. Usually from a bullet.”
Aldus nods. “Sucks to give up your bike.”
“We use old beaters for the bombs.”
“Oh,” Aldus says. “I figured the tweakers just didn’t take care of their equipment.”
“Come on!” I shout. “Faster!”
Times almost up, but the bombs are set and most of the crew is hiding in the brush, scattered along both sides of the road on the slope of the hill. We’re maybe ten miles from the Mexican border, and I’m worried that the cartel could send more guys up from the south. If that happens, we’re pincered, and we’re dead. I don’t even want to think what might happen to Jo if I go down in a blaze of glory.
I order Aldus into a shrub next to me, and I fall down into one flat on my stomach. I take out my rifle--most of us packed rifles or submachine guns rather than pistols for a big raid like this.
