“He couldn’t make it. He’s handling some shit with another group in Vegas,” I answered vaguely, not exactly wanting to let my uncle know of the turmoil that was slowly simmering. He cast me a curious look, and I shrugged lightly. “It’s not a big deal yet. You know Spyder doesn’t do well with others.”
“I heard he killed a man.” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled at that, and I clenched my jaw hard as Uncle Minter’s eyes narrowed on me. “So, he did kill someone.”
“Not the first time.” Snorting roughly, my uncle swung his head back and forth, and I frowned darkly. “What’d you hear?”
“I heard he killed a man. Some sicko who was stalkin’ his ol’ lady. That’s it. I was hopin’ he’d show up, so I could decide if it earned him some respect.” Grunting lowly, I didn’t have anything to say to that. My uncle’s response was pretty much what I expected. Uncle Minster pulled down the tailgate of his truck, grabbed a couple of bags, and the pills inside rattled slightly. He paused, casting me a look through the gloom as distaste deepened the shadows under his eyes. “Rook fucked up and needs to go, Bruiser. He won’t tell me what he did. I can’t jeopardize everything because he’s a blank piece on the board.”
“Did you name him that specifically to make chess references? You don’t even play chess, Uncle Minter.” But my joke fell flat, and I inhaled deeply in preparation before gesturing my uncle to go on. “What do you propose?”
“You take my son, and I’ll take one of yours? Show him the ropes.” A sharp bark of surprise burst from my throat, but my uncle didn’t flinch. Throwing his thumb over his shoulder, he leaned against the trap with a grunt. “What about that one?”
“Fuck no, not that one. I can’t make that decision, Uncle Minter. I gotta call Spyder. You gotta give him more than that.” I hated how that sounded, but this was business, and my uncle jerked his head in a nod. Patting his bicep roughly, I walked back around the car to pull my cell phone out of my jeans’ pocket. Spyder answered immediately, his silence expectant as I rubbed my mouth with my palm. “So, Minter wants to negotiate a trade. His son, Rook, for something or someone. What do you want me to do?”
“Whoa. Hold up. I thought you said he was askin’ us to do shit for him. What the fuck is goin’ on here, Bruiser?” Spyder’s tone told me he was anything but happy with me, so what if I told a little white lie. I was only trying to make shit easier between the group of us.
“I might’ve fluffed up shit a bit, but things are going sour up here,” I kept my voice low, so my uncle didn’t hear me.
“It’s that bad, huh? Did he tell you what happened?” He sounded tired, but the time zone hadn’t changed, and I sniffed as I glanced back at my uncle.
“Something bad if he’s sending Rook to the States. Won’t tell me what. I have a feeling it’s not anything in the grand scheme of things, but . . .” I trailed off, unsure of what was going on. I knew my uncle, and he wouldn’t abandon his own son unless it were serious. “What’re you thinkin’?”
“How long?” Rocking back on my heels, I shot my uncle a questioning look, and Minter gestured broadly. I licked my lips heavily, a gnarly ache attacking the backs of my eyes.
“He doesn’t know, but not a short stint. Even if you don’t wanna take him officially, I will on my own. Rook’s not a terrible kid. Whatever he got into probably wouldn’t follow him to the States,” Spyder grunted lowly at my admission, and a knot formed in my chest as I rolled my shoulders free of the anxiety that slithered between them. “Even though he said Rook didn’t tell him, I’m sure my uncle knows why, and that’s why he’s asking us.”
“Yeah, there’s no way that bastard doesn’t know. Okay, I’ll take the kid on if your uncle gives me a free load or four. I’ll leave the negotiating up to you, Bruiser, but make sure you get us a damn good deal.” Nodding as Spyder and I hung up, I turned to my uncle to relay the message. My proposal seemed exactly what Minter was expecting, and he dug out a piece of paper from his pocket. Walking past me to bang on the door of his truck, he slapped the slip of paper into my palm wordlessly.
“Let’s go, kid.” A bit of sadness threaded Uncle Minter’s tone, and I frowned darkly as I glanced down at the paper. Surprise rose my brows, my uncle’s chicken-scratch barely legible in the darkness.
Free ship / 6 mo
“The fuck?” Muttering to myself, I fished out my matches to strike one and incinerate the scrap of paper. The drugs we bought from my uncle weren’t a large part of his business, but free wasn’t in Minter’s vocabulary. Rook must be in some serious shit.
Inhaling the cold air, I shook my head viciously as Rook slid out of the car. He was young, nineteen or twenty, maybe, and he looked it. His shaggy hair framed a softer face, and he seemed slight compared to my uncle. Dull, brown eyes shimmered, red-rimmed even in the dark, and his cheeks sunk in as Uncle Minter held them in both his palms.
I looked away, not wanting to intrude on what was very obviously a tough decision for both of them. I wasn’t close to Rook; he was over a decade younger than me, but we were raised by the same man. Walking to the back of the truck, I grabbed two expertly packaged bricks and took them the long way around back to my bike.
“What’d he want?” Parker’s question shocked me. The asshole was so quiet I almost
