Page 89 of Talon (Road Rebels MC 2)
“Not a problem. If this goes well, would you and the guys be open to negotiating some sort of…?”
“Most definitely,” the man said, grinning.
“Perfect. I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll come back through a couple days before everything’s supposed to go down. Make sure you guys don’t need anything.”
“We’ll look out for ya,” he said.
“Oh, and one last thing,” I said. “There’s a worker here, goes by the name of Concrete?”
“Oh, yeah. Works just about every day, thank fuck. He’s a massive hulk of granite, hence the nickname.”
“He’s been hired by us for quite some time to look out for anything that might seem suspicious. Usually, we don’t say shit about this, but you seem like a guy I can trust.”
“You most certainly can, sir,” he said.
“If he reports anything weird back to me, your pay won’t be yanked. We don’t play that game. But he does have the authority to reroute as necessary, and let’s say his… muscles do a great deal of talking when people get in his way.”
I saw the man swallow hard and I knew I had his attention. I wanted to plant as many seeds as I could. Weeding out sticky fingers with outsiders required dropping seeds of information that even a toddler could piece together. We didn’t always work with the brightest of individuals, and if we got the entire shipment with everything intact after all I’d told this guy, I knew Talon, and I had to look towards our own club to figure out how the three boxes of ‘oil’ went missing.
“I understand completely,” he said.
“Good. I’ll be back in about a week,” I said. “There’s gonna be a truck that pulls up. The driver’s name is ‘Oceana.' Our merchandise needs to be loaded onto that truck as quickly as possible. The driver will take it from there. That’s all you guys need to do.”
“Got it. Keep an eye out for anything weird, unload the delivery truck, load up your truck, and send off Oceana.”
“If the driver gives you any other name, load him up with something else. Anything else. I don’t care what it fucking is. If the person driving that truck does not tell you his name is ‘Oceana,' do not give him our shit.”
“You know the driver’s a man? What if a woman tells us her name is ‘Oceana?” he asked.
“Good. I like a man that pays attention,” I said, grinning. “No. It’s a male driver. If it’s a woman, I don’t care if she gives you the right name. The driver has to be male, and the driver’s name has to be ‘Oceana.'”
“Got it,” the man said.
“Perfect.”
I walked down the warehouse and simply took a look around. I spotted Concrete, who did nothing to acknowledge the fact that he knew me. That gave me a bit of a worry. There was always something from Concrete. A nod. A salute. A cheeky little grin. He didn’t give you much, but he always acknowledged you if he knew you.
It was how I knew we were all on board.
But when he didn’t acknowledge me, I saw him staring off into the distance. I followed his line of sight and realized he was staring out towards the remote warehouse. I looked back at him, only to find him staring out at the road, and that’s when I knew what was happening.
He was trying to tell me something.
I put my sunglasses on and simply took a leisurely stroll. I kicked a few things around and slowly meandered by everyone, who gave me blank stares. A few nodded, a few grunted, but most just kept on with their work.
But all of them eventually flickered their gaze over to that damn warehouse.
I found my way down to the remote warehouse. It had been abandoned for the longest time until the place refurbished it and started using it as storage for the containers that never got picked up. Some companies would pick up their empty metal containers and reuse them, but some companies would simply abandon them. It used to clog up the warehouse, but now some millennial geniuses or whatever were taking these massive empty metal containers and turning them into affordable, livable homes.
I didn’t understand any of that bullshit. All I knew was that opening this warehouse meant containers stored in it were assumed to be abandoned.
Which made it easier to stash the types of goods we were pedaling if a shipment came in earlier than expected.
I looked around the abandoned warehouse, not really sure what I was looking for. I had my hand on my gun, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. Whatever it was, all the warehouse workers we’d paid wanted me to know something was over here.
Which made me think something over here affected the work they were about to do for us.
I checked in every container and listened out for every sound. I checked in every corner and even shone a flashlight up into the rafters of this massive fucking building. I saw absolutely nothing that would give me any indication that this deal was going south. I saw no cameras, no wires. I didn’t find any bugs planted in any of the containers nor did I find even a person crouched down trying to hide from my presence.
What I did hear eventually, however, was the engine of a car strike up.
I cut my flashlight off and slowly made my way towards a crack in the building. The closer I inched to the sound, the more nervous I became. I scooted along the dark wall of the warehouse, hoping my shadow wouldn’t off anyone who might’ve been outside canvassing this exact spot.
But I didn’t have to get much closer to see the car making that noise.
It was that fucking black sedan again.
I cursed myself as I held my breath. With my footsteps light as silk, I strode out of the warehouse. The sedan didn’t move like it had seen me, which meant I had the upper hand. I knew it was there, but the driver of the car didn’t know I had seen them.
Which meant I could follow their asses and figure out what the fuck was going on once and for all.
I gave a small nod to each person as I passed. They did fucking good, and if I had anything to say about it, we’d be using them again soon. The manager looked at me with a worried stare as he stood beside Concrete, their faces turned towards me as I rounded for my motorcycle. I saluted them both, silently thanking him for doing exactly what we paid him to do.
To fucking watch over our shit when we couldn’t.
I kicked up the stand of my bike and ran it back around to the warehouse. I didn’t start it up, and I didn’t get on it. I only walked it into one of the containers. I waited, watching the shadow of the sedan as it slowly started to creep by, then I allowed the metal of the containers to bounce the sound of my motorcycle around, disorienting the driver of the sedan as I simply sat there.
I watched the car cruise back and forth, trying desperately to figure out where the hell the sound was coming from. I wanted to follow them. I wanted to figure out who the fuck was driving that car. If it was one of the Iron Souls, I needed to have a very long, intimate talk with them.
If it was the DEA, I needed to start informing The Road Rebels of what I’d taken on and the trouble it had brought our way.
We’d been careful. The sedan wasn’t for us. The Road Rebels took painstaking measures to make sure our shit was under control. But the Iron Souls shit was all over the news. Every time another person was caught and detained, there was some breaking news bullshit that scrolled across the television.
If the DEA really did know about Sydney, she was in a great deal of trouble. And I knew the DEA wouldn’t stop until they’d finally collected her.
Finally, I heard the sedan drive off. I waited for a few seconds before I slowly came inching out of the warehouse, sliding out behind them onto the main road. I kept a few car lengths behind, wanting the sound of blaring radios and car horns to mask my sound. I was going to follow them wherever they took me, no matter how long it put me on the road tonight.
; The more information I could work with, the better I could protect Syd and Emery.
If the driver of the sedan knew I was there, they didn’t seem to be phased by it. They drove the speed limit, they didn’t try any weird maneuvers to get away from me, nor did they try to stop themselves in the middle of the highway to get to me. I trailed along behind them, riding for twenty minutes up the highway before they finally exited. I rode up one more exit and wrapped around, trying not to look too conspicuous as I finally caught up with the sedan again.
I rode three cars behind it into a small town. The Nevada dust was kicking up with the wind that night, and I knew if they didn’t pull over I’d have to cut on my light soon. The single light shining on them would give away the fact that a motorcycle was behind their car, and the last thing I wanted was anything else giving me away.
Luckily, they pulled off and parked in the parking lot of a diner.
I crossed the road and cut off my bike. I walked it to the edge of an abandoned building, sitting myself there in the shadows. My black bike and my black leather jacket concealed me from being seen in the dark, and I sat for a little while and simply watched. They were parked, but they didn’t get out, and for a split second I thought maybe they knew I was there. They were waiting for me to make the first move or some shit, and a slight shiver slithered up my spine.
That was until they finally got out of the sedan, the two agents laughing with one another as they walked in.
I recognized them instantly. Those were definitely DEA agents. With their nice suits and clean-cut looks, there was no way they were a part of the Iron Souls. They were laughing and shooting the shit while I sat there and watched them, and I clocked the government license plate, memorizing the letters and numbers.
The next thing I needed to figure out was if there were multiple black sedans running around our Nevada town. I needed to know if the sedan I was looking at now was the same one stalking my house. If it were, then it would be easy to distract. Sydney would just have to lay low for awhile and not go anywhere. One black sedan meant the DEA wasn’t sure if she was here. It just meant they were merely scoping out places she could’ve eventually fled to.
