Page 40 of Devil's Marker

“What about the people who worked on it?”

“Boss is smarter than that. Cue told me he brought a Spanish speakin’ outfit in from Monterrey. Got ‘em work visas. When the job was done, they went home without ever findin’ out what kind of operation they built tunnels for.”

“Huh. The money must be damn good.”

“College kids. They want drugs. They have money. Easy as pie.” He sniggered. “Like a lot of the girls over there. They want drugs and a taste of biker. They’ve lived real narrow lives. Think a roll with a biker’ll give ‘em somethin’ to think about when they’re bein’ bored to death with whatever insurance salesman they’re gonna end up married to.”

“You’re that same age, aren’t you?”

Bo nodded.

Win could see why girls Bo’s age might be attracted and think a turn with the bad, bad boy could be the one adventure they could smile about on their deathbeds that would, no doubt, be made up with hundred percent Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Show me the other fire exits. I got a healthy fear of burnin’ up.”

“Okay.”

Bo put things back the way he found them, stopped at the security room door. “You need anything?” he asked Catcher.

“Cranberry juice. Next time you’re comin’ this way.”

“You got it.”

The Huns would have teased Catcher into the twenty-second century for asking for cranberry juice. Win was learning that there were a lot of things about the Marauders that were laudable, including the freedom to request what you really wanted to drink.

Twelve club members returned after another hour. Win was sitting at the bar watching them on monitors. The gate swung wide to let them in and a few minutes later they were filing in, looking grim. By the time they reached the bar, Bo was behind the curved counter taking drink orders.

Cue sank down on the stool next to Win.

“That bad?” Win said.

“They messed him up good. Broken bones. Even internal organ damage. He’s gonna recover, but it’ll be a while. In the meantime, we’re gonna be thinned even more cause we need to keep a couple o’ guys at the hospital. S&B fucks are just the sort to come back for seconds.” Cue looked at Bo. “Give me scotch with ice.”

He looked at Win. “You get a tour of the innards?”

“Yeah. Blown away.”

“Special, huh?”

“Your operation. It’s somethin’ worth protecting. One thing. I don’t have a code that operates the childproof doors.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Boss’ll need to do that later. He keeps the list in a safe in his office. Check in after he’s had time to think on our next move.”

“Next move?”

“Well, we can’t let this stand. You know that.”

Win nodded. “I do. Gotta go careful though.”

Cue narrowed his eyes. “We’ll do whatever Boss says needs to be done.”

“’Course. Goes without sayin’,” Win was quick to respond. The last thing he wanted to convey was that his britches were getting too big. Cue was obviously devoted to Boss to a fault. Win needed to keep his observations and reservations to himself.

The rest of the week was quiet while Boss was presumably working out the details of their next move against the Stars & Bars.

On Friday Boss called a meeting.

“Sources tell me that there’s a new club in town. A few S&B have been seen there out of uniform, lookin’ like citizens, leavin’ with girls who, so far as we can tell, don’t never make it home.”

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