Page 21 of The Highwaymen

“Who's the twink?” he sneered, jutting his chin at me as he traded grips with Stu.

“My new apprentice,” Stu said.

The man’s lip curled as he gave me a once-over. “He any good?”

I smirked. “I'm a fast learner.”

The man scoffed, but stepped aside. Stu led me deeper into the warehouse, weaving between the stacks of contraband. We stopped at a crate marked with Chinese characters. Stu pried it open with a crowbar, revealing neat rows of shrink-wrapped bricks.

I knew better than to ask what it was. Stu had already acted dodgy earlier, and clearly the auto parts were just a front.

Stu grabbed one of the bricks, using his pocketknife to slice a corner of the plastic. He dipped a finger in, rubbing the white powder between his digits. Seemingly satisfied, he tossed the brick back into the crate.

“Unload these into the truck,” Stu ordered gruffly. “I'm gonna go settle up with Romeo.”

I nodded, grabbing a brick in each hand. The weight was substantial. Whatever this shit was, it had to be worth a pretty penny. My mind reeled at the thought of how much cash was sitting in these crates.

As I worked, I couldn't help but scope out the other men in the warehouse. Sizing them up like pieces of meat, imagining how they'd looksplit open and bled dry. There was one in particular, a beefy guy with prison tats, who kept eyeing me as he loaded his own truck. I shot him a wink and a lewd grin. He scowled and spat on the floor.

I chuckled under my breath. He'd be a fun one to carve up. The fighters were always so much more satisfying to break.

I heaved the heavy shrink-wrapped bricks up into the truck where the men from the warehouse were sliding them into the hidden compartments built into the walls of Stu's trailer. Kilo after kilo disappeared behind false panels and into the ribbed steel lining, the payload vanishing like a magician's trick.

Stacks of crates filled the rest of the trailer, stuffed with genuine auto parts - filters, gaskets, crankshafts, spark plugs. All totally legitimate on the surface. But every third crate had a false bottom concealing even more of the product. Layers upon layers of misdirection.

I had to admire Stu's thoroughness. This shipment was damn near invisible. Even if we got stopped and searched, it would take dogs to sniff this shit out. And based on how the guards had waved us through earlier, I had a feeling Stu was greasing the right palms to avoid that kind of scrutiny.

Sweat trickled down my back as I worked, stacking and securing the crates. The warehouse was stifling, no air flow, the corrugated metal walls trapping the day's heat. It smelled like oil and unwashed bodies.

I glanced over to where Stu stood with another man who must’ve been Romeo. They spoke in low, terse tones I couldn't quite make out over the clatter and thump of crates being moved. But I could read the body language well enough. The stiff shoulders, the tight nods.

Romeo clearly wasn't happy about something. His face pinched as he hissed at Stu, stabbing a finger at his chest. Stu just stared him down, unflinching, his craggy face carved from stone. He saidsomething back, a short bark that made Romeo flinch and take a step back.

The weaselly man collected himself, then gestured sharply to one of his men. The tattooed bruiser I'd winked at earlier lumbered over, a large duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He dropped it at Stu's feet with a heavy thud, then crossed his arms, biceps bulging.

Stu crouched down and unzipped the bag partway, just enough to peer inside. I caught a glimpse of green - stacks of bills. More cash than I'd ever seen in one place. Stu zipped it back up, giving Romeo a curt nod. They shook on it, some unspoken agreement sealed.

As Stu hefted the bag and turned back towards the truck, our eyes met. There was a gleam there, a hungry light I recognized all too well. The thrill of violence sated, at least for now. It sent an answering shiver down my spine.

I hopped down from the trailer, boots thudding on the oil-stained concrete. Stu tossed the bag into the cab, then slammed the trailer doors shut.

Stu swung up into the driver's seat and I climbed in beside him, the duffle bag of cash nestled between us. The familiar rumble of the diesel engine turning over vibrated through my bones as Stu put the eighteen-wheeler in gear.

We rolled out of the warehouse into the murky LA night, leaving Romeo and his goons behind. I glanced back to see the metal door rattle shut, men scattering into the shadows of the alleyways like roaches when a light flicks on.

“So, what was that about?” I asked as we turned onto the main road, surrounded by the anonymous faces of motorists just trying to get where they were going. “Seemed like Romeo wasn't too happy.”

Stu's hands flexed on the wheel, his knuckles prominent. “Prick was trying to short me. Thought he could skim a little off the topand I wouldn't notice.” He snorted derisively. “Fifteen years I've been running product for him and the fucker thinks he can screw me? I don't think so.”

I nodded, eyeing the duffel bag. I didn't know exactly how much was in there, but it had to be a hefty sum. No wonder Romeo had looked so pissed.

“Guess he thought wrong,” I said with a smirk. The fact that Stu had stood his ground, put that weasel in his place, made something hot coil low in my gut.

Stu grunted in response, eyes fixed on the road ahead. We merged onto the freeway, the downtown skyline glittering in the distance. Traffic had thinned out, but the city still hummed with restless energy. Billboards for liquor and strip clubs flashed by, the winking neon promising all manner of sins and vices.

My leg bounced, my whole body practically vibrating with pent-up adrenaline. The rush from moving that much product, the thrill of violence crackling in the air back at the warehouse, Stu's display of raw power - it all had me amped up like I'd mainlined a speedball. I needed a release.

“Surprised you let Romeo walk,” I said, trying to keep my voice nonchalant despite the dark impulses clawing at my brain. “After the shit he tried to pull? Fucker disrespected you.”

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