Page 52 of Death's Deal

Pulling me back to the issue at hand, Johnson’s voice rents the air, “Mano wants Murianos’s fight ring to return. The powers above me wish to arrange beneficial monetary terms for a partnership. With Murianos in custody, it means the meeting had been sidelined. We’ve been told through a third party—”

“The CIA, you mean,” Busta interjects.

Rolling his eyes, yet not disagreeing with the comment, Johnson continues, “They want Murianos to supply the fighters and the venue for the fights, and in return, there would be a direct flow of fresh merchandise, for both the sex trade that was lost in the dissolution of the Queen’s assets, and new, hungry fighters for the continued competitions. For the agency, it’s a direct link to and from the EU. They’re interested solely in this venture to shut down the Mano cartel and their pipeline worldwide. Their hope is, a few select unsanctioned businesses in the U.S. could facilitate this, hands off, of course.”

Slamming a heavy hand on the table, kicking his chair out behind him so it rockets into the soft wall behind him, Busta spits through his teeth as he spews his words, “You’re telling us to restart the illegal gun running and flesh trades that we just got out of! So you can take down a bigger ring—and in the meantime—fuck us further?”

I agree, “This can’t be legal? The government is asking us to partake in further illegal dealings they would’ve tossed us in jail for not moments before.”

“We’re not really asking,” Johnson states point-blank. Eyeing me, pointing to Toni, pursing his lips and narrowing his sight, he adds, “You took the money from the mayor, remember? No one asked you to get back into the foray, Death.”

“If we say no, you’ll take all our assets, toss us in jail, and throw away the key. Is that it?” Codero spews the words as if the taste of them is poison in his mouth.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Standing against the wall, leaning on it, Johnson undoes the buttons on his suit jacket, “Look. I don’t like this any better than the rest of you. I may be the messenger because they know I have a connection to you, but other than that, I have no power in this.”

Joker fumes, “So, we say yes or we’re in cuffs headed straight to jail by noon?”

“We’ve lost more than anyone in this fight, and the government didn’t lose a wink of sleep when our members died fighting your battles.” Miss throws the paperwork showing a level of hatred I’ve never seen from him. “We give up our freedom and livelihoods, or we go along and probably die trying to help you.”

“I hope that isn’t the door number two. I was hoping to have my dick sucked tonight by a pair of redheaded twins, again,” Joker quips.

“Great options.” Miss nervously laughs. “What’s next? You want Busta’s firstborn too?”

“Not at this time.”

“I don’t like how you said that,” Busta growls.

Quirking his head sideways, Joker sets his feet on the table and quips, “I have a feeling you want more than our firstborns, our Harleys, and the women we love to ruin.” Taking a more serious note, he asks, “What else can you do to us that would possibly be worse than what we’ve gone through?”

With a pregnant pause, Johnson’s face loses all color. He’s afraid of what we’re going to say to this last request, and I bet it’s a doozie. “We have Murianos in an undisclosed site. He knows we can’t do it unless we agree to his last request.”

Codero is the first to speak up, “And that is?”

“He’s created a situation we can’t resist, but it leaves us with another issue. We don’t trust his intentions, so we need someone we can trust to keep Murianos in line.”

“Well, if he wants a puppy, I’d get him a puppy,” Joker jests. The room full of us turn to Joker, each giving him a slow blink. Feeling all eyes his way, he shrugs. “What? Fine. You’re right. We can’t give him a puppy.”

Busta growls, “I don’t care if he wants a pony, he’s not getting anything more from us.”

For a slow moment Johnson stays where he stands, still and statuesque. He’s waiting for us to take the bait. For us to be so intrigued that we find ourselves choosing the alternative instead of the offer he’s already given. Thing is, no matter what, he must know we’ll all decline. We’d rather have our clubs destroyed than to give that ball-busting asshole Murianos another ounce of our lives.

Johnson tries to impart the gravity of the situation. “This is next level shit, Busta. We’re dealing with a stronger enemy than all of us combined. This is a group that has roots in Sicily and has Interpol chasing its tail. In under three months, they’ve taken over at least five states, including digging in a major foothold in Chicago. These guys make El Chapo seem like a dolphin in a pool of sharks, and we don’t even know what they look like. Mano is a ghost.” Flipping open his bag, he pulls free a manila folder containing photos. “Let me show you what you’re up against if you choose not to help.” Taking out an iPad, Johnson sets it before us. Playing a couple recent videos along with graphic crime scene photos from San Francisco and Chicago, the content showcases their strength. Their ruthlessness was astounding. They make us look like Boy Scouts.

It’s only been six months since Obi and Gale had died. Six short months since the cartel war we overcame, and now we’re looking to hop right back in to help the FBI, CIA, and DEA to take down the largest cartel out there. Someone has a twisted sense of humor and a higher regard for us than we do. The mafia has moved into our little stretch of heaven, and if we don’t do something downright dirty, they are about to expedite our lives to early graves. That is our future, this? This is our complete destruction.

“That’s what you’ll be contending with on your own, because trust me, if we’re not backing you this time, you’ll all lose. In a matter of weeks, they have already taken over the illegal booze from the Aryan Brotherhood.” He looks directly at me. “And, Death, if you haven’t noticed, the sex trade you gave up, along with the gun running, in Anaheim, San Ped, and San Jo has become relatively quiet as of late. No one is knocking down your door, annoying you to start supplying again.”

He is right and none of us can disagree with his points. The Mano cartel had slid right into our old stomping grounds with the ease of sliding a rock-hard cock into a warm, waiting pussy. Gaining command of the docks, controlling the waterways through strong-arm tactics, and closing out a few of the smaller businesses that dabbled in the market, they are leaving nothing unturned when it comes to illegal shit to do when you get to LA.

“Look.” With a softer tone, less commanding and calmer, Johnson closes his tablet and places it back in his bag, leaving the graphic photos strewn across the table for us to see. “I know what this means for all of you, and how hard this will be to do. Thing is, when there’s a power vacuum there’s always another dragon ready to rear its ugly head in the void left by another.”

They’d taken what we’d done and turned it into a stellar enterprise that made our system seem like a child playing with a box of Lego or toy cars. They’d had nearly everything in place by the time the bullet casings hit the floor in our latest encounter. Back when we were taking down Huesos and Alta, they were already settling in with their potted plants and desk chairs in their new offices.

The worst part of it all wasn’t that we were about to bed the devil, it was we were lying to ourselves when saying it wasn’t a comfortable place to return to. The darker side. The part of ourselves that felt true and real. The one-percent we’d been saying we didn’t need, and didn’t want to need.

I swore I’d keep the club safe but here we are, tossing the men who trust me straight back in the foray. I’d promised my boys we’d be on the up and up from now on. I thought I would be the president they needed. I’m not though, and what pisses me off is, Mayhem was fucking right. Bastard said I needed to watch what was coming, and I bet he knew this was about to bite me in the ass.

Stepping closer to the door once more, Johnson’s voice is low as he holds the handle. “Murianos’s request was for a partner to assist with this all. A collateral in this war. Someone who you’d all give your life for, and who you’d fight like hell to get back.”

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