Page 16 of Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself)
The gate loomed, moving, and he saw it was closing, slowly, still ample room to slide the van through. Another ping, and another, and the man stopped running, planted his feet and pointed the gun at the van, mouth open in an impotent scream before turning to face a second flood of men rolling from the other side of the compound.Shit. Van tires sliding sideways as he hit the road, shimmying and shuddering, he whipped the wheel back-and-forth, forcing the vehicle to straighten out as he smashed the accelerator to the floor again. “Your security ain’t worth shit,” he shouted, the words followed by a rash of hysterical laughter.
***
“Jesus, Benny,” Benita breathed, staring into the back of the van from the passenger seat. She could see the dozen bricks lying scattered across the floor, but held the clipboard in her hands; the treasure map.
“Told you I had this.” He grinned. No pursuit meant he was in the clear. He’d fled to downtown Denver, trailing through the alleyways he knew well, watching for anyone following. Nothing. After several hours, he’d called Benita, told her to ditch the guys and meet him here.
“And no one questioned the trade? They threw in the van?” she repeated the lie he’d told her and he grinned.
“Yeap. Easy as pie, just like I said.” He reached for her hand, ignoring how she pulled back. “No sweat.”
“The news said there was a warehouse fire.” Her face held doubt, but no disappointment. Doubt he could win over, change that expression to pride.Easy as pie.
“I don’t know about that. Everything was quiet when I drove out. All good.”Liar, liar, building's on fire. “Baby, you see what this does, right? We go to Fort Wayne. I get my brother to unload this through his channels, and we’re rolling. Suites and champagne, take my baby dancing.”
She smiled, then that disappeared into a frown. “What do we tell the guys?”
“I worked a deal, got a new van. The Klunkster”—he used the nickname for their band van, so named for the noise their transmission had been making for the last fifty thousand miles—“needed replacing and I worked a deal. I’ll pack these few bricks into the spaces on the paper.” He pointed to the clipboard lying in her lap. “We get to Indiana, unload and then get loaded.” At the grimace on her face, he laughed. “Not like that, baby. Loaded as in moolah.” So far, he had resisted the siren call of oblivion, running on adrenaline alone. He could hold it together for now.Forever.
“Seems too easy, Benny. You bought drugs from a gang.” Mexican cartel, but he wasn’t one to split hairs. “Can we really do this?”
“Yeah, we can.” He shook her hand. “Just to make sure we’re clean, I’ll swap the plates. It’s the same model so unless we fuck up, no one will ever know. The ride is cleaner and doesn’t stink, and the guys won’t give two shits which van is driving our asses down the highway. I need you to call that bar in Fort Wayne and get us booked, though. That’s step one. You do your part.” She frowned, and he knew it was at the suggestion she wouldn’t pull her weight.Shit. “I’ll get things tidied away in the back, then load the gear. We can park the Klunkster in a mall lot or something, leave it to be towed and then junked. Everything is going to work out, Benita. Promise.” Lifting her hand to his mouth, he trailed kisses across the backs of her fingers. “Love you, baby.”
“Yeah?” Her tone had deepened, gained the suggestive note that preceded her taking control of…everything.Shit.She glanced out the front window, and he followed her gaze, for the first time seeing the woman in the van Benita had driven. “How much do you love me, Benny?”
He stared at the blonde for a long minute. Short hair, curvy cheeks, her mouth moved as she popped her gum, blowing a bubble.Jesus. She can’t be more than eighteen. He couldn’t make it without Benita. She’d told him that a thousand times, and he knew it was true. Without her, he was nothing. “As much as you need me to.”
