Page 109 of Riot's Thorn
I pull out Bart’s phone and call the number he had for the dock manager that was only to be used when he had women to return after he used them. The line rings three times before someone answers.
“Is there something wrong?” the voice is hushed.
“I have someone for you,” I say as we walk toward the docks, looking for anyone on a phone.
“No can do. It’s too late for this week. The boat is leaving in an hour.”
“Then I have an hour to get my shipment to you.”
“I can’t do it, not during the day. The only reason I was able to add the last one was because she came in the evening.” The last one? He must mean Parker. Fuck. We’re getting closer.
“Do you enjoy spending my money?” I ask, hoping it’s in character.
“The money I earn by providing a service? Yes, I do. But there has to be some discretion so neither of us gets caught. Just hold onto it and send it next week. I’m sure you can get a little more use out of it.”
It?Is that how he classifies human beings? Fucking sick. “Surely you wouldn’t disrespect me by saying no.”
“It’s not about respect. It’s about not spending the rest of my life in prison. Besides, if I lose this job, there won’t be any more transports.”
We spot a dude wearing a hard hat just beyond the fence. He has his phone to his ear and is visibly agitated, like the guy on the phone sounds.
“My guys are there right now. I need you to meet them. Show them where to take the shipment,” I say.
“You’ve lost your mind. How do you expect me to get them to the shipping container?”
“That sounds like a you problem. They’ll be at the gate in two minutes. I would show up if I were you.”
“Damn it!” He sighs. “Fine, but I want double this month.”
“Of course.” I hang up and look over at the prospect who followed us out here so we had a cage. Not knowing what shape Parker would be in, I wanted her to ride home comfortably. “Tobi, get over here.”
“What can I do?” the kid asks. He’s been a prospect for a while now, but he’s still too skinny and young to be voted in. Thankfully, that’ll work for what I need him for, especially since he’s been growing out his hair and keeping it in tight braids.
“Pull your hood up over your head, but let some of the braids hang out,” I say.
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but he does it. “Like that?”
“Yeah. Keep your head down and stand behind Lucky. His height makes everyone look short, and we need you to pass for a woman.”
“Shit. No one will believe I’m a woman.”
“Actually, you have classically feminine features. Your cheekbones are more prominent, and you have fuller lips and asofter jawline. You most likely grew a beard for that reason,” I say.
He grimaces. “Man, shut up. You didn’t need to clock my tea like that.”
Lucky smacks him upside the head. “Show some respect.”
“I don’t understand the reference. Why would tea need to be clocked?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“For fuck’s sake. Can we just do this please?” Rigger sounds exasperated.
We try to look as casual as a bunch of bikers can while walking up to a shipping dock. The man with the scar is talking to the guard, gesturing firmly while the guard just nods. Their conversation ends as we approach. Scar doesn’t look happy, but he opens the gate nonetheless.
“This is highly unusual, and I don’t like unusual,” he says, trying to glance behind Lucky at Tobi.
“Look, whatever you work out with the boss is on you. We’re just here to deliver.” Rigger folds his arms over his chest.
“Whatever. I got it from here.”
