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We stay in the barn, and I watch from the doorway as two men get out of the truck.
They both have dark hair, and they’re both wearing jeans and black T-shirts with work boots.
And of course, they’re thugs. They have muscles on their muscles.
Luckily, Hawk and I are both in damned good shape. Eagle is still a scrawny teenager, but he’s tall and broad.
Three against two, and we’re armed.
Of course I’d be an idiot to think they’re not.
I stand there, letting my broad shoulders take up the doorway. I don’t speak.
They’re going to have to make the first move.
“We’re looking for Eagle,” one of them says.
“You Eagle?” the other says.
I simply shake my head.
“Who the fuck are you then?”
“None of your damned business.” I dig my heels into the ground. “But I’ve got what you want. You’re going to take it, and then you’re going to get the fuck out of here.”
The bigger one of the two closes the distance between us until he’s only about three feet away from me, his dark eyes glaring into mine. “You don’t make the rules here, asshole.”
I raise my arms to either side of my body. “This is my property, so I’m the only one who makes the rules here. I could have you arrested for trespassing, but I won’t. I’m here to keep Eagle’s end of the bargain. You’re here to take it, and then get the fuck off my property and never return.”
“I know who you are,” the other one says. “Falcon Bellamy, Eagle’s oldest brother. You think you’re tough?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” the other one asks.
Okay, I’m not dealing with bright people here. Of course I’m not. Smart people wouldn’t get involved in the drug trade, or if they did, they wouldn’t be acting as someone’s delivery boy.
Which of course doesn’t say much about my youngest brother.
“Stand back, and I’ll get what you came after.”
“We need to see Eagle.”
“Eagle’s not available.”
“Diego says we’ve got to see Eagle.”
“Did I stutter?” I take a step forward, holding my ground. “Eagle’s not available. You came for the money. I’ve got the fucking money. Take it and scram.”
Hawk walks in front of me, throwing the duffle outside the doorway. “Take it, and get out of here.”
One of them turns to Hawk. “You Eagle?”
Hawk doesn’t reply, but then I hear the click of a door.
A man gets out of the truck, and for a moment I’m not sure where he came from. He must have been hiding in the backseat. He’s as muscled as the minions, and he wears steel-tipped cowboy boots, jeans, and a black button-down shirt. His features are sharp and pointed.
I know who I’m looking at, even though I’ve never seen him face-to-face.
