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We took Gunnar’s Mustang out to the warehouse where the latest shipment of AKs were being held. After driving through the security gate, Gunnar pulled up out front and got out. The warehouse was just west of Zug Island, in a part of Carbon Works where people kept to themselves and knew not to fuck with the Savage Hunt.
I looked around before stepping into the building, where Kai and Mac were taking inventory.
“How’s it looking?” Gunnar asked, his voice booming in the confines of the metal walls.
I pulled at the top of my t-shirt, wiping my suddenly sweaty brow. It had to be at least ten degrees hotter inside than it was out.
“We’re waiting on Whittaker to give us the green light,” Mac replied.
“What’s the total number?”
Mac rolled his lip piercing with the tip of his tongue and stroked his beard. “With Friday night’s shipment, we’re at five hundred and twenty-five pieces.”
“Which means a fucking load of cash for us,” Kai added, resettling his ball cap back onto his head. “All we need now is Whittaker to hurry the fuck up and tell us when we can move.”
As if we’d summoned him, the dirty customs officer himself walked through the warehouse door. His slate-gray eyes fell to me first, sizing me up.
“Who the fuck is this?” he asked.
I already didn’t like the fuck.
Gunnar said, “Don’t worry about who the fuck this is. You should be more concerned about telling us when we can move this shit across the border.”
Whittaker shifted his attention off me, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “There’s a window tomorrow night. Shift change, although I’ll be a little late joining the new team, leaving you about ten minutes to move this stuff over the water as far north as you can go.”
“What about the return trip?”
“I’ll bring your boat back in a couple of days.”
I watched the guy carefully, not trusting him for a moment. The loyalties of men like him could flip on a dime.
“Now,” Whittaker said, clapping his hands together. “Where’s my money?”
Gunnar reached into his back pocket and pulled out a roll of cash secured with a rubber band. Tossing it to Whittaker, he said, “This is the first half. Second half gets paid on the return of the boat.”
The dirty cop’s face screwed up. “The fuck, Gunnar? That’s not how it’s happened in the past.”
Gunnar smiled at him, but there was nothing happy about it. “There’s been a change in management. So, either shut the fuck up and take your goddamned money, or we find someone else’s pockets to line.”
Whittaker chose the first option, shoving the money into the side pocket of his pants. Gunnar stared at him. “What the fuck are you waiting for? A fucking invitation for tea? Get the fuck out of here.”
Whittaker turned on his heel and left the warehouse, slamming the door behind him.
“He’s a loose end,” I said to nobody in particular. Gunnar only smiled and slapped me on the back.
“You’re fucking paranoid, Nick. Whittaker is an asshole, but he’s loyal.”
“Are you sure?”
Kai said, “He was dirty before I was kicked off the force.”
“And he’s been here since day one,” Mac added. “We vouch for him, Nick.”
I stared into the eyes of my club brothers, knowing I had to trust them. If they said Whittaker could be trusted, then I had to believe them.
The sound of my phone ringing cut through the stifling night air. Pulling the device from my pocket, I answered the call. “Prez?”
“Nick,” Rixon said. “Where are you?”
