BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(62)

In fact, I was sure of it.





FORTY - Baker





“This motherfucker better be legit,” I said. “If he gives me the smallest idea that he’s not, we’re walking.”

Enough time had passed that it was safe to sell the gold on the black market. The man who was to give us pricing for it was a commodities trader that lived in Brentwood, an upscale neighborhood that adjoined Beverly Hills. Despite coming highly recommended by the Hells Angels local Sergeant-at-Arms, I didn’t trust the man.

Cash glanced over his right shoulder, and scoffed. “He’s as strong as they day is long.”

I coughed a laugh. “Did you just make that up?”

His eyes shifted to the road. “It rhymed. I was pretty proud of myself for making it up.”

“Been pretty proud of you too, lately.”

He changed lanes and then flipped his hair away from his eyes. “Why’s that?”

“You’ve been civil about Andy. I appreciate you giving us a little space, even if it is nothing more than a rest from your verbal assaults.”

He gave me a quick look. “A little verbal assault never hurt anyone.”

“It’s annoying.”

“I figured out a few weeks back that you’re not pumping her for information, you’re pumping her with your dick.” He looked at me and held my gaze, despite being in charge of driving. “This deal’s real, ain’t it?”

“Not sure.”

“Liar.”

“It might end up being the real deal, who knows.”

He rolled to a stop at a traffic light and then gave me an evil glare, Cash style. “It’s real as fuck right now.”

“Hard to tell.”

“Maybe hard for you to tell. You’re star struck or whatever. All of us can see it. Hell, we talk about it.”

I was glad to see him opening up about it. Curious to find out the MC’s opinion, I trudged on. “What does everyone say?”

“Nobody’s pissed. Goose said the other day if he heard anyone talking trash he was gonna start slicing tires. Pretty much stopped that afternoon.” He grinned a sly grin. “Even the playing around.”

It mattered to me what Cash thought. More than anyone, really. He was hypersensitive, and childish in so many ways. I felt a need to make sure any questions he may have weren’t unanswered. The traffic signal changed, and he inched away from the light.

“What if this gal and me get serious? What would you think?” I glanced over my shoulder, and then made clarification. “If it ever gets that far?”

“Tried to think about it, but it ain’t easy. Other’n Goose marrying that chick with the kids for a while, it’s always been us. Just us. Guess for me, it gets down to trust.” He looked at me and shrugged his right shoulder against his jaw. “And, you know me. I don’t trust anyone.”

It was the understatement of the decade. He didn’t trust anyone. Prepared to take the conversation a little further, I reached into my pocket to rub my lucky keychain.

My eyes widened.

I checked my other pocket.

“Turn around,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Turn around,” I demanded.

“What?” he asked with a laugh. “Need to knock off a piece?”

“Keychain. It’s at home.”

He glared. “Seriously?”

Embarrassed, I simply nodded. “Make it quick.”

He did a U-turn in the middle of the street, and began backtracking to the clubhouse. I shoved my hands deep into both front pockets, and then gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Brother.”

In ten minutes we were a block away. Normally, I’d have had him go down the alley, and into the parking garage. The black Dodge Charger parked along the curb caused me to change my mind.

I pointed toward the car. “Park in front of that Charger.”

“Looks like a cop car. You sure?”

“Positive.”

He parked in front of it. I leapt from the truck, walked to the front bumper of the car, and noticed no one was inside. After peering through the windshield and the side windows, I was convinced the car was empty. The doors were locked as could be expected.

I walked back to the truck, wondering the entire way if I was simply paranoid.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked as I got in the truck.

“Car’s been out here from time to time for about a month. Maybe longer.”

“Might live above the bar.”

“I doubt it. It’s here at weird times.”

“Wanna run up from here?” he asked.

“No. Hit the parking garage.”

He glared at me. “Just run up from here.”

“Parking. Garage.”

He put the truck in gear and stomped the gas pedal. “Okay motherfucker.”

Minutes later, much to Cash’s displeasure, we were on the elevator together. Me to get my keychain, and him to piss. When we left, Andy was still asleep. I feared she was still home, and wondered how Cash may react to her Sunday morning presence.

When we go the door, I realized I didn’t have my keys. Frustrated that I hadn’t locked the place, I turned the unlocked handle and pushed the door open.