Page 39 of Deadly Hacker

In the wee hours of the morning, as the celebration was slowly winding down, Rad stood next to Mikhail on the balcony. They looked out across the estate, full of friends and loved ones, music and laughter, food and drink, and endless possibilities. The city of Las Vegas glimmered like a jewel, ripe for the taking. The Sokolov Pakhan and Rad talked about business, about expanding the Sokolov legacy further out into the world. There were so many new paths to blaze. More money to make, more records to break.

Their rivals were defeated. Dark times were behind them.

Only hope glowed on the horizon now, just as vibrant as the desert sun.

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EXCERPT FROM VICIOUS

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“Hey,Slash. I’ve got a job you’re gonna like.”

Soren ‘Slash’ Payne had been sitting on his ratty couch, nursing a beer and minding his own business. He liked minding his own business and had intended to spend his entire morning on the couch doing very little. But when the boss showed up, opened your front door, and made a personal visit to your pad, you paid attention. It wasn’t a matter of being polite. Soren had given up being polite long ago, but just like a man who wants to keep his job, he had to listen to the head guy.

Cade was the president of his club, The Road Kings. As a senior member and an officer of the club, he had to toe the line when it came to following the few rules and the club code. One big rule was that when the president spoke, you fuckin’ listened. When he came to see you, that visit became the most important thing on your agenda.

Not that it took a rule for him to take notice. Something important was going down, or Prez wouldn’t be banging on his front door. He wouldn’t be bringing Jake Mason along with him, either.

So as Cade slumped in a chair and put his boots on the cheap-assed coffee table, and Jake hovered nearby, not making an effort to sit, Soren got up, went to the refrigerator, and got two more beers, taking one to Cade, who stared at the bottle in his hand.

“It’s nine in the fucking morning, Slash.”

“Call it a breakfast beer, Prez,” he said. “If we’re gonna talk business…” He handed the other beer to Jake.

Jake opened it after a moment with a shrug.

Cade popped the tab and took a sip. “Fine. We’ve got a job that needs your special touch.”

Soren resigned himself to missing the ballgame that was going to be on that afternoon. He had a twenty riding on the Broncos. It would be bad enough to lose the money, but if he didn’t even get to see the game, that really sucked. Still, club business was his main thing. “So, what is it? Is Chico acting up again? Doing jobs on his own?”

“Probably, but I haven’t heard any new shit. I think the last talk you two had convinced him to keep a lower profile. At least until the scars heal completely.”

Soren looked at him and shared a glance with Jake, who wasn’t giving away anything, as he waited to hear the real news.

“It’s a smuggling run.”

Soren laughed. “You want me to visit sunny Mexico?”

That was the closest border. The run up to Canada was too long, and besides, the clubs to the north protected their own turf.

He wondered why the club’s junior computer geek was here for a simple smuggling job. Jake was handy in a fight and smart as hell, but he didn’t usually get involved in the day-to-day transactions, at least not in a hands-on way. He was great with computers, but Rafe, also known as ‘Hacker,’ was the true expert in cyber surveillance and theft.

“Not this time. This one’s a trip up to Canuckville, and I need you on it right away.”

“Because…”

“It will bring in cash that the club can use, Slash. This ain't some giant, convoluted scheme… pretty easy money, really.”

Soren nodded. A run to Canada could be lucrative, even if you just brought back prescription drugs that you’d bought legally in Canada. Retirees were happy to pay a premium to get their prescriptions filled where the drugs cost half as much. It wasn’t even risky—the Canadian government didn’t mind, so the only tricky spot was crossing back into the US.

If the trip had been to Mexico, Soren would’ve suggested letting someone else do it, but he was one of the few senior club members without major busts. Cade had one assault conviction and was out on bail for another now.

Felons had trouble getting into Canada—the border agents were picky. Soren had managed to avoid getting busted since his juvenile convictions, and they’d been buried. If the score was in Canada, it made sense for him to do it.

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