Page 6 of Joker

Logan steeples his fingers and holds my gaze. “Louisiana helped us when we needed it. This is payback. I need somebody who won’t run his mouth, won’t improvise for fun, and won’t bring more attention to this than necessary.”

Shadow lifts a brow from the corner. “So that narrows it down.”

I glance over at him. “You got another joke in you, or you done?”

“Depends. You gonna get more sensitive?”

“I can.”

Logan cuts through before it can go anywhere. “This isn’t a debate. I’m telling you what I need.”

There it is. Not a request. Not really a favor either, despite what he called it. It’s an order dressed better than most.

That doesn’t bother me. Not from him. Logan doesn’t waste words, and he doesn’t hand things out without a reason. If he says I’m the right man for the job, I am. Doesn’t mean I have to like his delivery.

I rub a thumb over the handle of my mug and study him for another second. “How fast?”

“Late Afternoon, you’ll be arriving when it’s dark then driving back overnight.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll need the truck.”

That pulls my brows together. “Truck?”

“Yes.”

That knocks out weapons as the most likely option and slides my irritation up another notch. Bikes are one thing. Trucks are another. Trucks mean space. Trucks mean fragile or inconvenient or both.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“Fuel up before you hit the highway. Take the route I marked. Stick to it.”

He turns the file around and taps a map clipped inside. There’s an address on the Louisiana side, directions already highlighted in pen. No names. No details. Just a line from here to there and back again.

Very helpful.

I flip a page and find a phone number written in the corner. “Who am I calling when I get there?”

“Grinder, the chapter president.”

“So he does have a name.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change. “Don’t get cute.”

I smile without humor. “Too late.”

He lets that go and points to the number. “You call when you cross state line, then again when you’re fifteen out. They’ll be ready.”

I stare at the page another second, then shut the file and toss it back onto the desk. “This all sounds suspicious as hell.”

“That’s because it is.”

I lean back. “Good talk.”

For a moment nobody says anything. The office feels smaller with all that silence sitting in it. Outside, somewhere down the hall, I hear boots on wood and the faint murmur of voices starting up downstairs. Morning is waking around us, but inside this room it still feels like the day hasn’t decided what kind of ugly it wants to be.

Then Logan says, “One more thing.”