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Anything I’ve Got
Talon
Talon lay in his bed, alone, and checked his phone. Shit, it was early.
He’d woken up in the leather recliner, bottle of beer cradled in his crotch, and an ache in his back. So he’d come to his own bed, which he should have done to begin with, and kicked Roxie out to go God knew where, but as long as she was away from his bed, Talon didn’t care.
Images of Jenna from the night before played through his mind. Jenna smiling up at Ryder. Jenna and Tank dancing their asses off to that crazy music Tank loved. Jenna looking at him like she was waiting for something. And whatever that something was, it was big.
And Talon had the sick feeling that he was supposed to know her.
He’d seen her so often outside the CrossFit box that she’d become his favorite fantasy, but that wasn’t it.
Gate and Deuce had both warned him about her. Like they knew something he didn’t.
There was something he was missing. Something just on the edge of his memory, barely out of reach.
Frustrated, Talon rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, pissed that thoughts of Jenna still made his cock hard, and even more pissed at himself that he was pretty sure he was about to jerk off thinking about her. Again.
*************************
Gate
Gate stepped off his Harley and walked, boots crunching across asphalt that glittered in the early morning Georgia sunshine, toward the customs office and port authority on the Savannah River.
Brick met him at the front door and led him around the side of the building so that they had a clear view of the river and anyone who might be close enough to overhear.
Another Harley roared close by.
“Who’s that?” Brick asked.
“Asked Talon to stop by,” Gate said. “He’s got a meet with some rich bastard over on Abercorn in an hour.”
Brick nodded, “Good. Just got a handoff. It’s early, but it might be something he can move fast.”
“When he came up with this idea, I thought it was the dumbest shit I’d ever heard,” Gate said, leaning against an oak tree that was big enough to shade half the building. “But those rich bastards keep us in some serious cake.”
“True enough,” Brick agreed, lighting a cigarette.
Talon rounded the building and made his way toward the shade, offering a chin lift for Gate and a fist bump to Brick.
“Who’s the rich fuck?” Brick asked.
“Weathersbee,” Talon said. “Idiot’s got more money than sense and a mistress with a black hole for a snatch. Greedy bitch.”
Brick laughed, reached into his front pocket with his free hand, and pulled out a small black velvet pouch. “Think he might be interested?”
Talon opened the pouch and slid a sapphire the size of a small bird’s egg into his palm. “Fuck, yeah. This one came early. Wasn’t on schedule until next month. Papers?”
Brick reached for his back pocket and pulled out the packing slip.
“All good. This new contact is fucking gold.”
“She’s young, but she’s good,” Talon agreed, pocketing the rock.
“Young?” Gate asked.
“Don’t get your dick in twist,” Talon said, stuffing the packing slip in his back pocket. “She’s young, but she’s legal. She’s also in Europe, stealing the nobles blind, and I doubt she’ll ever set foot on U.S. soil. Not in Savannah, anyway.”
