both any shit.
When she’s done she gets up and gives me a quick nod of her head, slinking back out of the room like the little lost girl she isn’t, head held high and grown men cowering away from her.
Fuck, I hope that big school of hers gets her out of this life. I hope she’s fed three square meals a day and meets some boring guy who’ll treat her right.
I hope she’s fucking happy.
It’s towards the end of the night when finally someone approaches me, and it’s Tank of all people. The enforcer for the Silver City Serpents back in California, he’s been in more fights with Harbin and Roxas than I can count but I’ve never had anything personally to fight it out with him over.
"You're looking for work aren't you?"
I shrug. "Not exactly. I'm looking for information and if you've got it, I'll pay in green or blood."
Tank nods and scratches at his beard. “I know what you’re after. I have someone I need moved. Picked up in Monteray and taken back home to Louisiana. How much would that cost me?"
I down the rest of my whiskey. "I need information on the Alcatron and Mecedo cartels. That's all I need right now."
Tank huffs out a breath. “Yeah, I came into some information on them. They’re opening up some new warehouses here in the Bay, obviously they don’t know about your fucking hunt for them. I gotta warn you, man, the Mecedo cartel aren't good people. You don't want to get mixed up with them, whatever money you're after ain't worth it."
I pull my jacket a little tighter as I adjust myself on the seat, just so my hands have something to do. I’m so fucking sick of people needing to vet my reasons for needing shit. If I want it, I'm fucking getting it. I like Tank well enough but I'll kill him in a heartbeat for the information I need. In a fucking heartbeat.
"This is personal and I'm not going round there for a drink. I'll move your guy, no question, just tell me what you know. If it's worth it, I'll do your job."
It's not just worth it.
It's everything I need to know.
"Make sure they're all dead, would ya? I don't need this shit on my doorstep. I've got enough turf wars and drug debts to fucking last a lifetime right now. I need my kid out of harm’s fucking way even if she thinks I'm an asshole, and I need her boyfriend dead. Think you can handle that?"
I shrug. "I can move her and if the boyfriend isn't willing to let her go I'll put a bullet between his eyes. I'm on a time crunch here, can the guys up state handle her?"
He nods and rubs at his chin again. "If anyone could handle her, it'll be her brothers. Take my word of advice, don't have kids. Too much fucking trouble."
He can take that advice and shove it up his ass. My kids are going to be fucking perfect, how can they not be with the angel of a mother they'll have.
Tank gives me the information for the warehouse, knowing well enough that I fucking always deliver and my need for the information is a high priority. My opinion of him goes up a fraction, something else I’m damn sure he’s hoping for too.
I’m a handy person to have your back in a fight and I never forget a debt owed. While I might not owe him, I’d pick him over a helluva lot of people now he’s helped me hunt the cartel for my girl.
I stay at the Dive until all of the fights are over and the crowd has thinned out until only the regulars are there, drinking their way to an early grave. Harbin has to half-carry Roxas out, a grimace on his face at the prospect of dragging him back to their clubhouse to sleep it off.
I get on the road and light a cigarette, holding the smoke in my chest and letting it burn me from the inside out. The warehouse is out in the sticks, out past the edge of the city limits where the forest thins out to endless miles of sandy nothingness. I enjoy the fuck out of the drive. The road is quiet enough at this time of the morning that I can let my Mustang eat up the highway like it’s nothing. It also gives me the chance to just think my plans through,