Page 22 of Duchess

"We know that, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Who, bro. Livin’ on the edge, huh?”

“Do you want my help or not?” I unwillingly stayed quiet as he continued. “He wants to talk. Not in person. He wants to do a secure video call. Tonight."

That gave me a little breathing room but brought me a whole new level of paranoia.

"Send me the link," I said, my voice low. "And make sure it doesn't get traced."

"You’ll be safe on this one. He doesn’t do anything without one of his men securing everything. I’ll call back in ten minutes."

I ended the call and turned to Obsidian, who was already on her feet, grabbing her laptop.

"We doing this here or moving to another site?" she asked, already pulling up a shell system on her laptop.

"Theres no time. He said ten minutes. A video call. Besides, less eyes, less questions."

Obsidian nodded and got to work. I pulled up a chair beside her, my nerves fraying with every click of her mechanical keyboard.

"This link’s bouncing across six proxies," she said.

“Okay, what does that even mean?”

"It means that no hacker, not even Rancid’s little tech bitch, will be able to track us "

“That's good.” I nodded nervously.

“Turn down the lights. This son of bitch doesn’t need to see our faces.”

Five minutes later, my brother's face appeared on the screen. I was surprised to see him. He’d aged in the last few years. He looked grim, lined with hard years of club loyalty, or better yet betrayal. Rancid was a shadow behind him, seated on a worn leather couch, flanked by armed bikers, and a woman with a snake tattoo winding down her throat, sitting on his lap. He tapped on her ass as I came on the screen and pouting, she got up and walked off.

"You must be the infamous Duchess," Rancid drawled.

I leaned into the camera, letting just my voice cut through the screen. "And you must be the bastard who pissed on the Royal Bastards patch."

His smirk widened. "Colt, you didn’t tell me she was feisty. Women like that give me a hard-on. I bet you look as sweet as you sound.”

“Wrong. I’m not sweet at all, on the contrary, I’m poisonous to men like you.”

The tension was thick, but I couldn’t let Rancid take the upper hand. Colt cleared his throat nervously, lowering his voice and his head. Coward. “Tell him about the deal.”

“This will be fun. Yes, let’s talk about that deal." Rancid pressed.

Obsidian kept the feed clean and Colt’s eyes flickered nervously between screens, while I laid out every detail of the inventory, drop locations, percentages, and timelines. Rancid didn’t flinch. He watched me with the calm of a man who'd slit throats before breakfast. Each term I offered was another coil of barbed wire closing around my neck, and I knew it. But I kept selling it and the bastard kept eating it all up.

“This is solid,” he said eventually. “Clean. Smart. I like the way you work, Duchess.”

My stomach twisted as he leaned in closer, his voice menacing. “You make me wonder what else you’re good at. I hope this won’t be the last time we work together. I like a woman who brings this much heat to the table.”

“The product needs to be moved tonight, it can’t wait.”

“Colt will handle it. Won’t you Winters?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir,” he stuttered.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced a smile. “You’ll get access to the product as soon as I get my money. But after this, we’re done. I don't plan on doing any more deals with anyone”

Rancid gave a low chuckle. “No one’s ever done in my world, sweetheart. But we’ll pretend you are if that makes you feel better.”

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