Page 48 of Iron Will

Which is gonna be just as soon as I get back to Ironwood after the run.

I put the bike into neutral, and roll it down her driveway, making sure I’m away from the house before I fire it up. Because I don’t want to wake her. I want to drive away with the picture of her in my mind, lying there on the bed, face soft in sleep, hair streaming around her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’ve never spent the night with a woman. That’s by choice. I’m not a guy who does long-term. Hell, I’m not even a guy who does short-term. I don’t need the complication of having any woman think fucking is more than just fucking.

But God help me, I think this time maybe it is.

I think I’m falling for Laney Hart.

19

Rourke

The road to Louisville is state highways for about half the time, and interstate for the other half. We make it to the outskirts of the city in about three hours.

We’re meeting Chaco Dos Santos in an industrial suburb on the north side. The meetup spot is a shitty old unassuming Mexican restaurant, where we’ve met Chaco and his men before. Just like last time, the place is deserted when we get there, with not a customer in sight. And of course, that’s by design. It’s a mystery as to why anyone ever opened up a restaurant here in the first place. It’s surrounded by warehouses, lumber and building wholesalers, and even a chemical factory, but since it’s Sunday most of these businesses are shuttered for the weekend. But for the purpose of having a meeting undisturbed, it’s perfect.

When we go inside, a short old Mexican guy sits at the till, but otherwise the place is deserted. The stale stench of Mexican cooking assaults my nostrils. I’m not a fan of Mexican food in the first place, but it smells like no one’s actually ordered food here in months.

Axel, me, Dante, and Mal walk through restaurant, ignoring the old guy. Chaco’s in the same back room he’s met us in before. He’s there with four other guys, two of whom I recognize from the last time. They flank him, standing like silent sentinels.

Unlike last time we were here, Chaco doesn’t ask us to remove our pieces. He comes around the long table in the center of the room, and Axel and Chaco clap each other on the back, a sign of trust. He nods to me, a sign of respect as Axel’s VP, then motions toward the table, indicating we should sit down. Axel shoots a glance at me, and I take a seat to his right. Dante and Mal stay standing, mirroring Chaco’s bodyguards.

Last time we met here, Chaco was the one with the upper hand. Our chapter of the Lords of Carnage was taking over part of the transfer route of Chaco’s product from northern Kentucky through southern Ohio, as far as the Tanner Springs chapter of the Lords to our north. Chaco wasn’t happy with that arrangement. Angel, the prez of the Tanner Springs chapter, sent down one of his men, Hale, to smooth over the transition. Chaco accepted it, but he had his doubts about working with Axel and the Ironwood club, instead of directly with Angel.

Hale, speaking for Angel, gave him his assurance that the transition would be smooth and that our club was up to the task. We knew that if there were any problems with the shipment transfers on our end, the cartel would look at doing business with another MC or some other syndicate.

Which would mean moving to take us out, to free up our territory for someone else.

This time, the tables have turned. Now it’s Ironwood that needs assurance from Chaco that they’re gonna have the product we need, when we need it. And even before he starts talking, it’s clear that Chaco is not happy to be seen in this position of weakness. Everything about this guy telegraphs how proud he is — from his two-thousand dollar suits to the straight, formal way he carries himself. Everything about his bearing says he expects to be treated like a king, and his men comply.

“So, Chaco, what’s the deal?” Axel asks, cutting to the chase right away. “Your latest shipment was supposed to get to us tomorrow. I’m guessing this meeting ain’t because you were graciously wanting to give it to us a day early.”

“No. Clearly not.” Chaco’s voice is low and steely. He is angry. But he knows he can’t afford to let the anger loose.

“I talked to Angel yesterday,” Axel continues. “Let him know about this meeting. He’s not happy. You know we’re looking to expand our distribution up north. This larger shipment was supposed to be the first step in that.”

I step in. “Last time we were here, you told us the Dos Santos cartel had entered into a relationship with Los Caballeros. You said your two cartels together had more than enough strength to push back Sinaloa from your territory.”

“The product is here,” Chaco grits out. “The problem is not there. The problem is… a matter of accessing the shipment.”

“What do you mean?” Axel retorts.

“As I told you, our problem is we’re not able to get close to it. There are fucking cops all over us. They don’t know the exact location where we’re holding the product, but they clearly know the general area. They swarm every time my men try to get near.” His face contorts.

“They ain’t geniuses,” Mal jokes. “If they were smart, they’d be better at hanging back and catchin’ you in the act, instead of showing themselves. Fuck, I thought Louisville cops wouldn’t be such dumbasses.”

Chaco shoots a glare at Mal, but says nothing.

“Who tipped them off?” Axel sounds calm, but I know better. He’s fucking furious.

“Unsure.”

“What about your buddies Los Caballeros?”

Chaco says nothing. But the way his eyes narrow tell me Axel may have hit a nerve.

---