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“You in or out?” he plainly says. He knows Sullivan is holding his breath for this whole thing to fall apart, but Harley steps forward and extends his hand for a handshake.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
They shake on it, and it is done.
Harley gives Sullivan a curt nod. “You can get lost now, little man. Your boy here doesn’t need you to keep his balls warm while we talk business.”
Sullivan steps forward, grinning. “Ha, Good one. Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He looks like he is super chill, but Ty has learned to recognize small tells of tension in his body. Sullivan is ready to give Harley hell if he tries something.
Ty is grateful to have his friend by his side right now. He doesn’t need his protection, but knowing he’s not alone gives him strength and clarity. The feeling of desperation eases back a smidge, enough to allow him to consider the possibility of turning Harley down after all.
Harley gives Sullivan an appraising look, and after a brief consideration, seems to shrug off the whole standoff. He gestures for them to follow him, muttering, “Suit yourself, you little shit.”
He is clearly dismissing Sullivan and underestimating him like most people do when they first meet him. Ty smirks, knowing damn well, that this is exactly what his friend wants – to be an unexpected, very unpleasant surprise.
Sullivan remains quiet, following Ty closely as Harley leads them to one of the small offices used for visits and legal counsel. He pulls a whole ring of keys out of his pocket. Neither of them is surprised that this man is walking around with enough power to tear through this establishment and cause apocalypse-worthy havoc. Only he doesn’t instigate any trouble because it won’t make him money and that’s that.
Ty, on the other hand, is supposedly about to earn him a lot of money. And more importantly, grant him an early release, if everything goes to plan. That’s what he’s gathered from the conversation that has gotten him to this point in time. However, he is not dim-witted enough to dismiss the possibility he could have been played by Harley and his main man Joe, who somehow happened to discuss this particular transaction for long enough near him, that he would take the bait and stick his eager neck out, volunteering to do the job.
The space looks like a dusty old broom closet, but as they step forward and Harley removes a stack of seemingly empty boxes, another door is revealed. This one has an electronic lock, and he glances over his shoulder before he enters the combination. Ty catches only half of it, as the pad is lower, but he is sure Sullivan has nailed it. He glances at his friend who is mouthing silently the combination to himself, committing it to memory.
He wonders what he intends to do with it, as surely the prison guards on Harley’s payroll must be fully aware of this place. Sullivan can’t leverage this information, but Ty knows he will find a way to use this to his benefit. He is barely able to suppress a grin. Harley opens the door and steps inside, flicking a light switch. It’s a motherfucking office. Harley’s office.
This bastard has a desk, a decent-looking sofa, and a damn coffee station. He even has filing cabinets and a current wall calendar with appointments circled on it. Is there a freaking secretary hiding somewhere in there?
He slides behind his desk. His demeanor is that of a true businessman. He gestures for Sullivan and Ty to take a seat and clasps his hands on the dark surface of the bureau.
Harley truly looks like the devil. He holds it in his power to give Ty the means to rescue Rian and his son, but in exchange, he asks that Tayida becomes one of his minions. A willing, power-hungry, eager lackey. A mule to courier his illegal goods and carry out his orders without question or hesitation.
Ty’s mind is stuck on the notion that in a few days’ time, he will become a criminal. He won’t be transporting drugs. Oh no, it will be much worse than that.
Harley is yet to disclose the nature of his cargo. Ty has no doubts it must be shoddier than drugs or dirty money, since Harley has been beating around the bush, trying to downplay the importance of the information. Why else would he leave the details to the last day when Ty will have no other choice but to say yes?
This is his whole play – Ty won’t have enough time to consider the consequences. He is setting him up, and for now, Ty is playing along, pretending he doesn’t know any better.
Ty has no shame left, admitting to himself, he’s desperate enough to do whatever it takes to acquire the resources he needs to remove Rian from the grasp of Harris Kelly. Christopher Phan and his deals be damned.
“Right.” Harley takes charge of the meeting, “You’ll be picked up two days from now at a motel named Ambrosia five miles down the road from here. Your connection, let us call him Mr. B, will be waiting for you with the package and instructions on how to reach your location. Once you have delivered the shipment, you will use the burner phone Mr. B has given you to take photos and call him to confirm you have completed your part of the agreement.”
Ty bobs his head in understanding. Harley keeps his eyes on him, annoyance starting to creep in. He thinks Ty’s daft. Just another jarhead. It’s clear he needs him just as desperately as Ty needs his services otherwise, he wouldn’t be wasting his time with the likes of Tayida.
Harley seems to be waiting for verbal confirmation, staring him down with a flat resting bitch face.
Ty rolls his eyes and huffs, “I got it.”
Sullivan shifts to his side, attracting Harley’s attention. He’s been looking around, leaning backward and sideways, as if he’s taking measurements and planning to move in. Harley glares at the fidgety Alaskan and when Sullivan doesn’t settle immediately, snaps at him, “What’s wrong, little man? Are you feeling a bit out of depth? Please don’t let my good looks stop you if you suddenly feel the urge to fuck off and leave us, big boys, to our work.”
Sullivan snorts a laugh. “I’m good. Just wondering if I’ll have to sell my soul to you for a cup of coffee. Not in the habit of owing favors, but I can smell you got the good shit in here.”
Harley frowns. “It’s seven in the evening.”
“What are ya, my mom? I’ve planned a long jerk-off session, okay? Got me a magazine and everything,” Sullivan deadpans, patting his back where the paper makes a telling noise, making Ty wince.
He better fucking not.
Harley shakes his head in disbelief, but waves toward the expensive coffee machine and dismissively says, “Go crazy. Low-fat milk is in the mini bar underneath.”
Sullivan scoffs in amusement, probably thinking Harley must be joking. He tries the handle and when the door of the filing cabinet opens sideways to reveal the inside of a cooling box, he finally figures out the giant filing cabinet-looking thing is indeed a mini bar, stashed with drinks, snacks, and lactose-free almond and oat milk. No cream.
