Page 3 of Givin' Me Fitz!
I laughed as I started the truck and shifted into Drive. I followed Gravel Pit Road to NV-160 headed for the industrial park. We had an asshole to deal with, and I wasn’t going to be kind.
Hobie and I sat in my truck across from a red Peterbilt tractor-trailer parked at a loading dock at the back of Sans Truck Lines. “Looks like the crews are taking a break.”
“Yeah, I see the forklift near the door, so they haven’t started loading in, yet.” Hobie scrolled through his phone for a second before touching a contact.
“Hobie, what’s up?” It was Mouse, our tech guy.
“Any changes to the schedule for loading Charles Smith’s rig?”
“Uh…” I could hear his fingers pecking away on the keyboard he never seemed to leave. We’d put Mouse up in one of the rooms over The Roundup so he could work without too much distraction. The kid was twenty-three and had gone to UNLV for a degree and he’d graduated with honors.
Mouse was the smartest guy in the club, and the humblest. We all looked out for him because he was on the small side, but he’d made a big impact on the way the club operated, putting us in the black in a hurry when he joined us. We were all grateful.
Two years ago, Mouse came into the restaurant on a cold call, hoping to design a website for The Roundup, which was really a joke. The place wasn’t five-star, but it gave us cover to get deliveries, so we opened it. It did a decent business, being close to the highway.
When Arlo sat down with the kid and listened to him, he quickly figured out Mouse could help modernize our operation, so he brought the kid to my attention. We hired him without even doing a background check. It was the best decision we’d ever made.
The kid was a wizard with all things tech, even taking on the books—legal and less than—for the club. In addition to beefing up security at all our businesses and the clubhouse, he had a little bit of a hacker in him and was able to find out information we needed in a hurry to get the most bang for our buck in business deals. He promised us nothing would be tied back to the club, and he was yet to break his promise.
“Mouse, you still there?” It was awfully quiet at the other end of the line.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just getting into the mainframe for Sans. Here he is. His truck is logged to be filled by two this afternoon. He’s due in New Orleans by Thursday.”
Hobie chuckled. “I doubt he’s gonna make that.”
I glanced up to see a guy headed toward the cab of the semi. He hopped on the step and pulled out a massive keyring fit for a janitor. “Think that’s him?” Hobie reached behind the truck seat and pulled out a baseball bat I kept handy.
“One way to find out. Mouse, check the security cameras on the back side of the terminal to see if they’re online.” It would still be worth it even if we got caught, but I liked to know the odds.
After a few keystrokes, Mouse responded. “Going from left to right across the eight loading docks, cameras one, five, six, and eight don’t work. The truck’s red, right?”
“Fire engine.”
I glanced along the back of the building seeing that dock one was empty. There was a yellow custom truck backed between docks two and three. Four was empty. Our guy was backed up to five. The other three were empty.
“Can’t see it. Stay out of the way of cameras four and seven.”
“Thanks, Mouse. See you in a bit.” Hobie ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket.
He pulled out a blade, but I put my hand on his wrist. “We’re not going to kill him. We should have brought Tiny. I’d like to see what the guy can do in a situation like this. I’ll put it before the executive board that, when we patch him in, we bring him on as an enforcer but restrict his vote for a year. Since Noah defected to the fucking Scorpions, the goddamn traitor, the spot’s been open. We need someone to help replace you as an enforcer so you can do your job as treasurer and have time to find investments for the club.”
Hobie chuckled and raised an eyebrow at me. “Prez, I think we’ve got this.” I smirked and held up my fist to bump his. Yeah, we definitely had it.
We watched the guy hop out of the large sleeper cab truck, not bothering to lock the door before hopping up on the dock and going inside. There were no workers in the doorway, so Hobie and I exited mine and moved across the parking lot.
I went to the driver’s side and climbed up, sliding inside before I reached over to open the locked passenger door. I slipped into the sleeper part of the large cab while Hobie climbed inside and sat in the passenger seat.
We both looked around, Hobie settling the wooden bat on the right side where Smith wouldn’t see it when he got into the cab. “Should we do this here or take him somewhere else?” Hobie had that glint in his eyes that meant trouble.
“We take him somewhere else, and it’s kidnapping. Let’s not tempt fate.” I reached for the top sheet on the bed where I was sitting, and I pulled it off, tying a knot in the middle of it to immobilize Smith while Hobie played home run king.
I looked at the pictures Smith had tacked to the walls of the sleeper cab. “Looks like Smith has a wife and a couple of kids. Get Mouse to send you still shots from the hospitality bar at the house where he picked up Emily. That can be a threat to get him never to come back to East Adkisson—in case breaking his fucking ribs doesn’t work.”
Hobie texted Mouse as I pulled down a picture of a pretty woman lying in a hospital bed, holding a baby wearing a pink hat with a bow in a blue, pink, and white blanket. I handed it to Hobie. “Put it on the steering wheel so he sees it when he gets in.”
Hobie reached over to do just that, glancing out the driver’s side window. “Here he comes from the back.”
I slid further into the sleeper compartment so I wasn’t easily seen when the asshole got inside. Hobie sat back, bat hidden by his side. When the door opened, Smith tossed a logbook into the seat and climbed up. He was fucking with his sunglasses as he got in and didn’t clock Hobie as he settled his ass in the driver’s seat.
