The one at the door—I don’t know his name, just that he’s got dead eyes and a scar running from his temple to his jaw—shifts his weight. Not threatening. Just… present. But I know he’s got guns on the back of that low-slung belt of his. Knives, too, most likely.
“Viper.” I nod like this is normal. Like running into MC enforcers in a truck stop bathroom is just any other Tuesday. “How’s business?”
“Funny you should ask.” Viper pulls a toothpick from his pocket and sticks it in his mouth, working it from one side to the other. “Business has been… complicated lately. State of things, ya know. Not so many kids in the clubs these days.”
I don’t say anything. It’s an old instinct to never volunteer information or offer to fill a silence.
“You remember Crash Martinez, right?” Viper tilts his head. “Guy you used to move product for with the Kings? Before you got all respectable on us?”
My jaw tightens. Crash ran the club circuit in East Austin, a mid-level dealer who’d pay me in cash and cocaine to move party favors and eight-balls to the college kids and wannabe badasses who thought they were slumming it. Easy money after Harper and I moved down here from Dallas, even easier when I was supposedly “watching” Bruiser and could make drops between diaper changes. A connection from Dallas hooked me up with Crash.
But I’m all done with that now.
“Haven’t talked to Crash in months,” I say carefully. “I got out of that life.”
“Yeah, we noticed.” Viper’s smile sharpens. “Noticed a lot of things, actually. Like how you got yourself a CDL. How you took out a loan for that nice new big rig, with great, legitimate contracts lined up.” He leans in. “And how you got a pretty little family at home.”
The way he sayspretty little familymakes ice slide down my spine.
“What do you want, Viper?” I bite out.
“What Iwant,” he says, stepping closer, “is for you to remember where you came from. Remember who gave you achance when you were just some punk-ass kid dealing dime bags behind the high school bleachers.”
He’s talking about the first time I got pulled into their orbit. It was back in Dallas. I saw the MC guys hanging around Harper’s dad’s BDSM Dungeon and figured I could make a few extra bucks by selling to those rich bitches at her school.
But then, when I saw I was losing her heart to that dickhead Caleb…
Well… it all started out innocent enough.
The weed in her locker seemed genius at the time. Enough to get her arrested, but not enough to actually ruin her life.
I just wanted to remind her where she came from and that she belonged with me. She wouldn’t have spent more than two years on the inside, and probably not much more than six months, considering it was her first offense.
Harvard boy would’ve been off at college, and then she and me coulda continued on as we’d always been.
No harm, no foul.
Except Silas—fucking Silas—had to go and be the big damn hero, taking the fall instead. Ten years in Gatesville for what should’ve been Harper’s first strike.
And then Helen died, and I had to scramble and spin the story so Harper never connected the dots. Then make sure she stayed far away from Caleb and cement my place in her life.
“I remember,” I say tightly. “But I’m out now. Living clean.”
Viper laughs, short and sharp. “Nobody’s clean, Z. You know that. And we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t need you. You’re just too stupid to realize it was Crash’s guys who planted the idea in your head—” Suddenly he’s pulled a knife and is tapping the flat of the blade against my forehead, “to get your CDL and take out a loan on a big rig. This has been our plan for you all along, dipshit.”
The guy by the door shifts again, and I catch the glint of metal tucked into his waistband.Fuck.
“The pandemic’s been good for some people,” Viper continues conversationally, like we’re discussing the weather. “Bad for others. You know what it’s been for us?Complicated.Border’s tighter. Cops are more suspicious because there’s less traffic to hide in, but the patrol’s also stretched thin. Air routes are fucked. But you know what keeps moving?”
He points at me.
“Truckers. Essential workers. You boys get waved through checkpoints that would have civilian vehicles pulled over for hours. You got credentials, manifests, and legitimate cargo. You’re Goddamn invisible if we work it right.”
My stomach drops. “No.”
“Oh, I think yes.” Viper’s smile disappears. “Your boy, Crash? He vouched for you. Even suggested you for the job. He said you were reliable, knew how to keep your mouth shut and your eyes on the prize. Senior in Dallas said the same.”
I try to shake my head. “It’s different. I have a family now?—”