Reaper's Fire
Page 40

“So what you really want is an exclusive relationship?” she asked, sounding hopeful. Christ. Time to take another one for the team.
“Not if you’re gonna bitch at me twenty-four/seven,” I reminded her. “And not if you fuck up my job. You want to give things a try, I’m up for it, but you make another move on Tinker Garrett or pull any more manipulative bullshit like that fight the other night? Yeah, we’re over.”
“But otherwise, that’s what you want?”
Delusional. She didn’t even care about the damage she’d done, or who she hurt along the way. Sound like anyone else you know? I asked myself, and I didn’t like the answer.
Just get through it. Do it for your brothers—they’ve risked their lives for you, they’ve served time for you. Now suck it up and do what you have to do.
“Sure,” I said, letting a slow smile slide across my face. It was sexy—I knew this, because women fell for it every time. Talia did, too. So fucking predictable. She licked her lips, then reached down to cup one of her tits.
“Why don’t you come over here and let me show you exactly how I feel?” she whispered.
“Can’t,” I said, and while I tried to inject a hint of regret into my voice, it wasn’t easy to pull off. “Your brother wants me out at the clubhouse. Said we had something to talk about.”
Talia perked up.
“I’ll ride with you,” she said. “Let me grab my bag.”
I wanted to protest, but figured I’d pushed her far enough already. All I had to do was manage the situation for a few more weeks. Then I’d be free.
“I’ll be outside waiting.”
 
 
CHAPTER TEN
 

Proving once again that women made no sense, Talia was in a great mood by the time we pulled up to the clubhouse. “Hey, Cooper!” shouted one of the prospects, a kid named Cody. “Good thing you’re here. Boss is lookin’ for you.”
“He knows we’re coming,” Talia told him. “I already messaged him.”
“Well, he said to watch for Cooper, and then send him in as soon as you guys got here. He’s waiting for you.”
Talia and I walked into the clubhouse, which smelled like weed and burned chemicals. Someone must’ve gotten their hands on some seriously low-quality meth, which surprised me. You’d think with Marsh’s connections, he’d be using better stuff.
Marsh sat toward the back of the room on a couch, hand tapping nervously against the armrest. A young girl sat on his lap. She had a blank, stoned look and while I could see her hand stuck down his pants, there didn’t seem to be much action happening. Approaching them, I caught Marsh’s eye and waited for him to speak. He pushed the girl off and stood up, blinking at me through bloodshot, dilated eyes, one hand still twitching nervously.
Great. He was tweaking.
“C’mon, Coop,” he said, eyes darting toward Talia. “You stay here, baby girl. We got business.”
Talia pouted, but turned away toward the bar as I followed Marsh into a pool room. Their chapel. Lining the walls were old leather vests—colors from brothers who’d died—and a few prizes they’d taken off other clubs who’d wandered into the wrong town. Marsh grabbed a couple of pool cues, tossing one to me.
“Let’s play a game and talk,” he said. “Shut the door.”
I did, then watched as he racked the balls. He radiated a wild, nervous energy that could only come from one place. Meth. Fuck, I knew we had to play it out as long as we could, but at the rate he’d been using, things could fall apart fast. Seemed like it was worse every time I saw him.
“Gotta job for you,” he said, leaning over to take the first shot. His hand trembled. Fuck. Hopefully he’d be steady enough for me to throw the game plausibly, because I had a feeling Marsh wasn’t a gracious loser. The balls broke with a crack, and thankfully he sank two stripes for a good start.
“What’s that?” I asked, carefully casual.
“Need someone to haul some cargo,” he said, frowning as he lined up another shot, eye twitching. “Someone we can trust. You been hangin’ around for a while and you got your own rig. Figured you might be ready for a shot at some money.”
His cue skipped as he made his next play, hitting the ball off-center. Scratch. Marsh scowled.
“I’m always interested in money,” I said slowly, pretending to weigh the offer. “What’s the run?”
“We’ve got some shit for you to take up through Bellingham,” he said. “You’ll cross the border there and drop the load in Vancouver—all legal—and then drive across to Penticton to pick up another load. Come back through the border at Oroville, which is the most dangerous part of the trip. From there you’ll drive down to the Tri-Cities and deliver it to some friends of ours.”
“The path’s a little random,” I said. If I went through Bellingham the local Reapers could back me up, but the rest of the time I’d be well and truly on my own. “I can think of better ways to do it.”
“Not your job to think,” Marsh said slowly. “We’ll be watching you, so don’t fuck it up. Our Canadian partners will be at both drop points, and they’ll be in charge of paying and verifying the shipments. It’s your job to drop one trailer and pick up another—simple. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What’s my cut?”
Marsh stared at me.
“Standard shipping rates, Coop, payable when you finish and they verify delivery. So far as you’re concerned, this is just another job.”
There was a trap if I’d ever seen one—only a moron would agree.
“It’s my ass on the line,” I said, wondering if the risk was worth it. The Reapers needed information, but I’d never be able to tell them what I’d learned if Marsh slit my throat in a fit of paranoid rage. “You treat me right or I’m out. Your sister’s hot, but she’s not that hot.”
The man burst out laughing.
“You’re a good guy, Coop,” he said. “You call it like it is, and you aren’t pussy-whipped. Talia’s my baby girl and I love her, but business is business. Let’s make a deal.”
Standing, he walked over and lifted a faded velvet painting of an American eagle off the wall. Behind it was a safe. Marsh opened it, then came back with a stack of bills in a rubber band, handing it over. I flipped through the money, doing a quick count.