Page 13 of Joker's Ghost
“And he told you to give it to me specifically?”
“Yeah, he said, ‘Give this to your VP, Joker.’”
“Was he alone?”
“Yeah, looked to be in his thirties, Native American, and he had a wolf with red eyes tattooed on his forearm.”
“Nomads.” Cobra’s one word hung over us.
“So, it’s like Boa said,” Mamba reasons. “They’re trying to fuck with us. Freak us out.”
“But giving it to me says they know about my life.” I glance over at Daisy, unpacking the boxes with the other women, then shove the box in my pocket. “Or this kinda shit wouldn’t mean anything.”
“And right now you’re giving them exactly what they want,” Cobra said.
“You think they know we’re heading out there tomorrow?”
“No way.” Rattler shakes his head. “We’re the only ones who know about the shipment, and even Blade and Arrow don’t know what we have planned.”
“I guess.” I wouldn’t give a shit if this was aimed at just me, but bringing my family into it, especially now with Daisy pregnant, puts a whole different spin on a fucked-up situation.
Boa claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t let this bullshit get in your head, brother.”
“I seem to remember when Virginia’s big-shot LA father threatened her into giving you up, you rode out to his high-end country club. You crashed his dinner, then basically told her old man to fuck off. And you did it in front of all his A-list friends and golf buddies while wearing your leather and denim in a sea of plaid and pastels.”
A huge grin covers Boa’s face. “Yeah, that was some crazy shit.”
“Enough of this hocus-pocus.” Rattler makes an eerie sound. “Halloween isn’t until Saturday.”
CHAPTER 5
One Day BeforeHalloween
JOKER
The next morning, bright and early, I pull up to The Gold Mine. After more grumbling from Rattler and Mamba about the early hour, we head out Route 15 for our safe house in the desert.
Normally, I love an early morning ride with the cool, dry air whipping against my face before the sun beats down. The exhilaration and freedom can’t be explained, but today is different—today, the familiar dread of the last few days lives in my gut. A deep, hollow pain I can’t ignore.
Two hours later, we pull off the highway and head down a dusty road leading up to the safe house where we store all the artillery shipped up from Mexico. We park our bikes out of sight behind a cluster of trees and rocks.
“Can’t fuckin’ stand this.” Rattler draws deep on his cig as we hunch behind some scrubby bushes.
On any job, waiting is the hardest part, but over the years, I’ve learned to temper my nerves and use them to my advantage. Rattler, not so much. He likes action—any kind, any time. He’s the one who leads the charge, and his lack of fear makes him very valuable and fuckin’ scary at the same time.
The rumble of pipes in the distance puts all of us on point, as Cobra and I exchange glances. Then we watch as the two rogue Nomads park their bikes at the back of the safe house, dismount and go in the side door.
“Fuckin’ bastards have this all timed out.” Cobra grins. “Only they’re gonna be in for a little surprise.”
Rattler makes a move, but Cobra holds him back. “Be cool, brother. We let them settle in first. Let them get comfortable, maybe light up a blunt or do a few lines, then we hit hard and fast.”
Five minutes go by, and now even I’m getting antsy. I check the clip of my gun twice, and I’m ready to go. According to Blade and Arrow, these guys were out of control and off the grid, and one thing I’ve learned—crazy has no fear.
Finally, Cobra gives us the go, and we all spread out. The boarded up windows prevent them from seeing us coming so we fan our around the small structure. Python, Cobra and me in the front while Boa, Rattler and Mamba cover the rear and side doors.
When we’re all in place, Cobra does a silent count. Taking out our enemies is nothing new, and the six of us work in sync all the time, every time.
Cobra nods, and I shoulder through the front door, gun drawn. Boa and Rattler storm the back while Mamba barges through the side door.
