Page 36 of Kyle

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kyle—

Last time the guys followed a truck, it took this route, so we’re staked out behind the gas station where the truck and chase car fueled last time.

Cole thinks they’ve been doing this all this time, and no one’s caught on, so probably they’ll use the same route.

We stand around smoking, waiting for the tip off from Billy, who’s lying up in the hills above the landing strip, positioned to give us the signal they’re on the move.

Twenty minutes ago, the plane landed, and they unloaded.

“Should be anytime now,” Cole says. A moment later, his phone goes off. He glances at the text. “They’re on the move. Billy’s gonna follow us when he’s sure everyone has left the site.”

Everyone is on this one tonight, except the prospects. Cole, Crash, Wolf, Red Dog, Green, Shane, Jake, TJ, Billy, Reckless, Marcus, Rafe, and me.

We lie in wait, our bikes hidden, and watch the truck and chase car arrive. While they’re gassing up, Wolf slips off his cut and ruffles his hair up, then approaches the truck driver with a stooped gait.

He puts his hand out. “You got any change for an out of work veteran, man?”

“Get lost,” the driver snaps.

Wolf shuffles away and I watch him dig the tracker from his pocket and stumble against the truck, attaching the magnet beneath it.

The driver comes around the back. “Get the hell out of here.”

“I’m goin’. I’m goin’,” Wolf mutters, his head down.

The two vehicles finish refueling, and pull out.

While we wait for Billy to catch up to us, Cole calls Daytona.

“Hey, brother. How are you?” Cole looks at the horizon. “Doin’ well. Thanks. Hey, we’ve got a problem.” He puts the call on speaker as Wolf comes around the corner and joins us.

“What’s that?” Daytona replies.

Cole tells him about the connection to our attorney, and how we got on the trail that led us to these flights bringing in product that’s being hauled to Vegas.

“No shit.”

“They’re transporting in a dump truck full of gravel. One’s headed your way now. We managed to attach a tracker. We’re gonna follow at a distance—keep about five miles back. We need to find out where it ends up and what happens. I don’t want to lose it in Vegas traffic.”

“Give me details. I’ll try to pick it up and tail it.”

“It’s a green dump truck. SaysSmith Brothers Haulingon the side. I can’t find anything on the company.”

“Probably bogus.”

“That’s my guess. I’ll send you a link to our tracking app.”

“That’d be great. I’ll get on it now.”

“One other thing, Daytona.”

“What’s that?”

“The name Warren Drake mean anything to you?”

“Can’t say it does, but my VP has a lot of connections on the strip. I’ll check into it, Cole.”

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