Page 11 of Salvation/Mamba

They all held up their glasses. “To Mamba.”

Mamba drank deep taking the toast to heart. He did have it all and he would do everything in his power to keep it, including getting himself out of debt. A slight problem he’d keep to himself because after Thursday night he’d have enough money to go around.

Cobra flanked him. “I understand from Sheena, couples expecting a kid take a baby moon?”

“Mandy’s mentioned it, but with her hours at the salon and me working extra hours at Wicked I don’t think we could swing it.”

“I got that place up in Mount Charleston if you wanna use it for a few days. Or an overnight, whatever.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll mention it to her.” The two men tapped fists.

4

Mamba usually spent Thursday at the gym training. He kept a rigorous schedule to keep his head straight and to be in top shape when he stepped into the cage. He’d raised himself to a high echelon, and people came to see him fight. Thousands of dollars were exchanged at these events and Mamba liked to give his best.

He purposely stayed away from the Gold Mine for fear he might slip about the extra job he was taking on later tonight.

“Don’t wait up for me, babe.” Mamba said this to Mandy whenever he worked at Wicked, but she always managed to stay awake if only to mumble she loved him and fall back into a deep sleep.

She leaned up for a quick kiss, but Mamba cupped her face deepening the kiss. When he got his fill, he broke away from her lips. “Don’t forget to lock up.”

“I know, I know. You say the same thing every time you work nights at Wicked.”

“Right, cause I know how you are about security.” Mamba tried for a stern face which lasted about two seconds. “Please humor me.”

Mandy followed him to the door. “I’ll lock it the minute you leave.”

He kissed her again, then headed for the garage. Telling Mandy he was working at Wicked was a convenient lie. One because he didn’t wear his cut when he worked there and he wasn’t wearing his colors for this job tonight, plus he was taking the SUV. Another believable lie, cause he hated parking his beloved Harley in Club Wicked’s parking garage.

An hour later, he pulled into a rundown bar called The Frontier. How fuckin’ unoriginal. It stood outside Searchlight, a quiet desert town on the Nevada-California border. The same town where Cobra sent him to fight when he was exiled from the Serpents. Fucked up times, but it was also where he got together with Mandy.

He killed the engine and spotted the same meathead who met him in the garage at the Golden Nugget. He approached him and the guy jerked his head for Mamba to follow him to the side of building.

Mamba kept his distance observing his surroundings in the dusk night. The muscle stopped next to an oversized paneled truck with Logan Plumbing and Air Conditioning stenciled on the side.

He dug in his pocket, dragged out a set of keys and handed them over to Mamba. “I’ll text you the drop off in Barstow.” He jerked his thumb at the back doors. “Don’t open the back; you just drop off the cargo and return here.”

“Got it.” Mamba had no intentions of opening the cargo door. The Serpents used Marita a few times for smuggling firearms up from Tijuana, so he didn’t need to see her latest shipment of guns.

Mamba slammed himself into the van, started the engine, checked his texts for the address, and prepared himself for the ride to Barstow. Simple math told him the back and forth would put him home to Vegas between one and two in the morning. Perfect, since that was the time he usually got home from bouncing at Wicked.

The straight run on I-15 gave him plenty of time to think. With this payoff and what he was sure to make on the fight next week he should be able to get his fuckin’ loan shark off his back. He couldn’t wait to shove that money in his annoying face and be done with him once and for all.

Back in the bad old days when he was gambling hard and hitting the blow even harder, he was always behind with his bookie. Even winning at the top of the circuit didn’t keep him above water, but those days were over.

A half hour out of Barstow and Mamba congratulated himself on his good fortune. Shit, if he did this once a month for the kind of money Marita was willing to pay, he’d be able to knock off his bills and have plenty left over for when the baby arrived. That reminded him to mention Cobra’s cabin to Mandy tomorrow. Even if they went for an overnight it would be nice to get away before the baby.

Mamba veered off I-15 in Barstow and followed his navigation to another out of the way bar at the end of a dark road full of potholes. His relaxed mood changed to cautious as he patted the .38 in the waist of his jeans. Life taught him never to let his guard down, especially when things seemed too easy. The text said to go around to the back of the building and park. As he eased over the weed infested cement, his headlights hit a skinny guy exiting the back door.

Mamba cut the engine but kept the headlights on. The only other light came from the few security halogens that weren’t broken.

The skinny guy came closer as Mamba slipped out of the van. The closer he got the worse he looked. Shoulder-length, greasy, stringy hair, and a lined face. Either this guy was having a bad night or he was hitting the meth hard.

“Been waiting for you.” He grinned. Add missing half his teeth to the list. “You got some real precious cargo there.”

“Wouldn’t know, just drove the van.”

“You’re not gonna believe this.” His too bright eyes shone against the dim lights. Definitely hitting the meth.

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