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“Ten grand each. Not a paycheck that a sheriff in Tonopah makes on his own.”
“No,” Grim agreed, throwing back another shot of whiskey.
Rael tilted his head to the side. “How the fuck you get access to his bank account?”
Hannibal shrugged. “My dick.”
Laughter erupted around the room, and it released some of the tension we were all feeling.
Ex snorted. “You have pussy all over Nevada.”
“That I do,” Hannibal confirmed with a grin, “but that ain’t the point. I’m doing some digging, but I ain’t sure who sent the payments yet or why.”
“Xenon, you think you could work your magic?” Grim asked, turning to our tech guru.
There wasn’t shit that Xenon couldn’t access or manipulate when it came to technology. It was almost scary.
“I’m on it,” he announced, already clicking keys and tuning us out. He never did ask many questions, and it made me wonder just how many people he kept tabs on at any given moment. Probably wasn’t a single politician or law enforcement in the state that wasn’t under our surveillance.
“And this is related to the Russians, how?” I asked, bringing us back on topic.
“With all of the disappearances in Nevada in recent months and the fact that the trafficking ring is still operating throughout the Great Basin, I’d say it’s a good chance those payments to Sheriff Tucker are a bribe to turn the other way.”
“Well, fuck,” I cursed, slamming a fist on the table. “What does that mean for Tawni?”
“She’s not safe,” Exorcist clarified from across the table. “We’re her only chance if the Russians track her down.”
“She lives in Vegas,” Xenon added, “but she’s at the Clown Motel until Sunday. Checked the reservation in her name. Didn’t even use a fucking alias.”
“Christ,” Grim blurted. “Does she have a death wish?”
“Not sure, but she’s not alone at the motel. The room is booked for two guests.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“Who?” I asked, my voice little more than a growl.
“Can’t say. Cameras at the motel aren’t easily accessible. I can’t see the part of the second floor where she’s staying in room 214. Friday the 13th,” Xenon announced, still typing on his laptop.
“Friday the 13th?” I asked, hating when he blurted too many facts at once like this. It came out a jumbled mess.
“Yeah. She checked into one of the theme rooms.”
Groaning, I pulled one of my cigars from my cut and lit up, puffing away until I had a decent cherry. It was a good minute or two later before I felt the rush of nicotine hit my system and focused my attention back on Grim.
“I don’t like this,” Bodie answered, speaking up for the first time.
“Me either,” Lucky added. “Scorpions have been too quiet.”
“And what about that Rattler dude? We ain’t heard a word,” Bodie added.
“Not entirely true,” Patriot admitted, glancing in Grim’s direction. “Got two random texts—both from untraceable burner phones. I’m almost positive the first one was from Rattler. All that I got was a picture of a rattlesnake. Fucking coward.”
“And the other text?” I asked, already worried about where this was headed.
“Just one sentence: You don’t fear me yet, but you will.”
A few scoffs and curses were heard from my brothers around the room.
