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“You’re alive!”
“I am.”
“They treating you okay?”
“They sewed me up and they’re giving me Jell-O, so… yeah.”
“Ha. Good.”
“I called to tell you good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Kade almost sounded guilty. “I should be there with you guys.”
“No, you should be resting. You got shot yesterday.”
“I thought you bikers were bad-asses,” Sid growled. “Back when I was in the Marine Corps, you got shot, you rubbed some dirt on it and walked it off.”
I scowled at him. “Don’t be an asshole, Sid.”
“Too late,” Kade said.
“Whatever, ya big pansy,” Sid replied.
“Seriously, Jack – you’re going to let a 95 year-old grandma go out there with you – ”
“Fuck you, Junior,” Sid snapped good-naturedly.
The phone call devolved from there until Kade said, “Hold on, Fordham wants to talk to you guys.”
“Great,” Jack grumbled. “Put him on.”
“Good luck.”
“You too, man. Take care of yourself. We gotta go riding up to Canada or something after this is all over.”
“It’s a deal.”
Kade handed the phone over to Fordham.
“Any word yet?” the DEA agent asked.
“Not from Sloane. I thought you said your guys could track Lou’s phone, though.”
“We are – but that isn’t the same as knowing where the buy’s taking place.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Are you ready to go?”
“Am I ready to go, he asks,” Fordham said mockingly. “Yes, I’m ready to go. You just do your part and don’t get shot. Or do – I don’t care, as long as you get me Lou, Peters, and the Santa Muertes.”
“Your concern is touching,” I said.
Fordham laughed. “Don’t worry, Christenson. I got a good feeling about you assholes. Got all my chips riding on black.”
“Hope it don’t come up red, then,” Sid said, optimistic as ever.
“Or double zero. Have fun, kids – and CALL ME.”
