AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay, then,” Eight said, proud of himself for mastering the impulse to gloat. “Why don’t we take this to the chapel and get to work. Help yourself to a cup and a plate to bring with you.”
~oOo~
“I want to hear the plan you’ve made for this run,” Niko said, once they were settled around the crowded table. “All the details.”
Niko already had the plan, and all the details, but Eight didn’t point that out. He let him have that little moment to wave his dick. “I had Apollo and Fitz work out the plan, so I’m going to throw the question to them. Lay out the details, brothers.”
Apollo swiped around on his tablet, and the projector in the ceiling turned on and showed a US map on the screen. A thick orange line showed the run route.
Fitz began to describe what the map showed. “Your buyer’s in Vancouver, but going directly there isn’t viable. To get through a border checkpoint smoothly, we gotta think outside the box a little. It’s a long route, but if we follow our usual west route at first, all the way to Laughlin, Nevada”—Apollo was doing something on the tablet that made a circle move along the route as Fitz spoke—”and then head almost straight north, along these smaller roads, we can get your cargo into Canada at the Laurier, Washington checkpoint. It’s a lot smaller, with a lot fewer Feds. It’s a ways off from Vancouver, but that’s good. Bringing that kind of cargo into a city that big is a huge risk. We’ve already arranged for the buyer to come east out of Vancouver to pick up.”
His fingers steepled against his mouth, Niko studied the screen. “I assume, as usual, the Bulls won’t be escorting the cargo all the way to its destination.”
Now Apollo spoke up. “No, we won’t. We’ll take it to Laughlin, where we’ll hand off to the Silver Dragons MC.”
Niko chuckled. “’The Silver Dragons?’ The things you bikers name your clubs. Reminds me of my childhood, playing video games.” He turned to Eight. “I’ve not heard this name before, however. Do we know this MC?”
Eight ignored the obvious dig—but it was the last dick-wave he’d allow before things got awkward again. “They wouldn’t be our handoff if we didn’t. Apollo?”
“I dug deep. They’re a fairly new MC out of Idaho. Mostly vets. Culturally diverse. We’ve got a connection because their SAA used to be a Scorp, and we worked with them in the Perro years. A combination of about thirty years of time inside altogether, which is more than even we’ve got, so they’re not squeamish about doing what needs to be done. They’re solid.”
“Also,” Fitz added, “their VP’s cousin is CBP, stationed at Laurier. The cargo’ll go through when he’s on duty, and the buyer will be waiting about fifty miles in on the other side.”
That piece of information, though it wasn’t new to him, made Niko nod, and even smile a little.
“Are you planning to ride with it all the way?” Eight asked. That would be several days of travel, and not even a Land Rover could make it luxurious. He couldn’t imagine Nikolai Volkov was interested in a road trip through the American West in January.
“I will,” Vadim said. It was the first time he’d spoken during the meeting. “I will take the measure of everyone involved.”
Niko nodded. “I have business to attend to in Dallas. I’ll be back in Tulsa before Vadim returns. We’ll meet again then and debrief.”
Goody. More Russian bullshit.
But at least now everybody knew and believed that Eight was the fucking president of the fucking Brazen Bulls MC.
~oOo~
The weather wasn’t that bad, at least not along the part of the route the Bulls were riding, their usual path through the southwest. Cold, but clear. They stopped for the night outside Albuquerque. There was a titty bar down the road, with an enormous pink neon sign, and Vadim was playing sour-faced cruise director, trying to corral everybody to go.
The single guys were all in—they were young, and a five-hundred-mile ride in freezing temperatures hadn’t locked up their joints. Most of the Bulls, however, were family men now, and well into middle age, so Vadim was having some trouble getting their buy-in.
Normally, Eight would have been leading the pack, up there with Vadim, shaking fucking pompons. Helovedstrip clubs. Anonymous, free range titties? What wasn’t to love?
However, the cold and long miles had not been kind to his bad leg. Also, he was not a single man anymore.
He really did love strip clubs, though. No doubt it was nice and warm in there. The drinks were usually cheap—and the food was usually surprisingly edible.
Going to a titty bar wasn’t cheating, right? He wasn’t going to fuck anybody. Justappreciate.
Well, there was one way to know for sure.
While everybody was in their rooms, dumping their bags and draining their pipes, Eight pulled his personal and made a phone call.
“Hey baby,” Marcella answered. “You stopped for the night?”
She had such a sexy fucking voice. Damn, he was hard just feeling it vibrate his eardrum. “Yep. Just outside Albuquerque.”
“How’s your leg?”
