Page 15 of Joker's Ghost
“Ahhh, for fuck’s sake.” Python turns to me. “Get outta here so we can get this done. I’m tired of listening to this asshole.”
The Nomad’s eyes lock with mine one more time, and swear to fuck, I can’t breathe. I jerk myself around, but I can still feel the power of his gaze and the overwhelming dread of his words. Like he’s already put some kinda fuckin’ spell on me.
I stumble to the door, yank it open and bolt outside, sucking in the dry desert air, but my lungs are too tight in my chest.
“Shit, you’re white as a ghost.” Cobra offers me a smoke, and I put it to my lips with shaky hands. He lights me up, and I drag deep, willing the nicotine to do its job. I finish it off fast, but it doesn’t help, so I grind the butt under my boot.
A second later, two shots ring out, and the feeling of dread turns into debilitating nausea. I suck in some air, but it’s no use, so I round the side of the house and puke into some scrubby bushes. Then again and again until there’s nothing left.
What the fuck? I brace my hand against the wooden slats of the safe house and drag in slow, deep breaths. I could drink all night long and not get sick, so what the hell just happened? It was like something took over my body.
Ahhh shit, I was letting that punk get to me, and I knew why. ‘Cause he threatened my family, which could never stand.
I pull myself together, then join the other brothers.
Cobra follows me with his eyes, and I nod, letting him know I’m good. He motions to the others and points toward the safe house. “Get this shit cleaned up, then wait for the shipment. Joker and I are heading out to The Cathouse to get paid.”
I head for my bike, and Cobra flanks me. “You all right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Big fuckin’ lie ‘cause I feel like I’ve been run over by a semi.
“Maybe you’re coming down with a bug or something.”
“Maybe.” I play along ‘cause that’s what Cobra expects, but the dread of the Nomad’s words hangs over me like a dense fog.
Cobra flips out his phone, and after a few cryptic sentences with Arrow, we throttle our bikes and head for the highway.
My stomach churns the entire ride, but we finally pull into The Cathouse’s lot. The madam doesn’t waste time with any pleasantries, so we head for the room in the back.
Just like the last time, Arrow and Blade sit at the table while Warrior observes from the corner. His dark eyes are exactly like his great-grandson’s. Fuckin’ weird.
Arrow and Blade stand, and we tap fists. Warrior moves forward and places two duffel bags on the table. I unzip them and do a quick count of each bag, then nod to Cobra.
“Our business is done here.” Cobra hoists one of the duffels onto his shoulder. “And I expect you to honor our agreement, which means you and the other Nomads stay the fuck outta Vegas and the hundred-mile radius around Vegas.”
“That was the deal,” Warrior confirms.
Interesting, since the first time Warrior didn’t step up until the end of the meeting, but now he’s totally in charge.
I hoist the other bag over my shoulder and follow Cobra to the door, then turn and zero in on Warrior. “You know anything about a curse involving a black stone set into an umbilical cord?”
The Nomads’ eyes widen, then they all exchange looks but remain silent.
“That is very serious.” Warrior reaches around his neck, undoes a clasp, then holds out a silver amulet in the shape of a feather on a leather tie, and places it in my hand. “Keep this on you at all times.”
I peer down at the charm. “What’s this gonna do?”
“The curse you speak of is very dangerous, but this might lessen its power.”
“Might?”
“Once the curse is cast, there isn’t too much that can be done.”
Cobra shifts his feet, then jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
I pocket the necklace and feel the small box with the black stone. Maybe one will counteract the other.
“You weren’t feeding into that bullshit, were you?” Cobra stores one of the bags in his saddlebag.
