Page 62 of Volt
“You guys did good work tonight,” he says.
“Yeah, I like to think we put a nice dent in his bank account tonight.”
“You did. You guys snagged fifty-seven kilos and two-hundred grand in cash. And he’s pissed,” Doc confirms. “After he learned about the stash house, he called an emergency meeting at the office. You guys took a small fortune from him and he’s less than pleased.”
“Good. The more wound up he gets, the better. He’s more apt to make a mistake.”
We sit in silence for a few moments. I watch the guys tossing bricks of Zavala’s drugs into the fire. Everybody’s laughing and having a good time. Morale seems to be up which is a good thing. We’re going to need it for the dark days still to come.
Doc nods. “Your instincts were right. So was your judgment,” he says. “Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say about my own.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” I tell him. “I know it can’t be easy for you. None of this is, and you’re running on emotion right now. Which is understandable given... everything that’s happened.”
“Yeah, but I have to be smarter and not run on hate,” he says. “I need to think about the well-being of everybody here and not my own hurts.”
I look over at him. “We’re going to get this guy. He’s going to pay for what he’s done,” I tell him. “We’re going to kill him.”
“Yeah, I know we will.”
“We just need to keep doing what we’re doing. We’re driving him crazy and keeping him off our backs. That’s a win-win no matter how you slice it,” I say.
“Yeah, but for how long? Eventually this is going to lead to him declaring all-out war.”
“It’s possible. And if that’s the case, we’ll handle it,” I say. “But I’m still hopeful he’s just going to give up here. I’m hopeful he’s going to cut his losses and bail. We just need to keep the pressure on him.”
He nods, but I don’t know if he’s actually seeing me. He’s staring into the flickering flames shooting out of the firepit. I can see that Doc is consumed by anger—and probably a healthy dash of guilt thrown into the pot and stirred up. He’s probably blaming himself. Probably has been since day one. It makes me feel bad for him. Not only is he trying to cope with the loss of his friends, he’s got all this extraneous shit he’s got to deal with too.
“Tonight was good, kid. You guys did good,” Doc says. “But remember, the real fight is still to come. Prophet is going to be avenged. As are the rest of our brothers. Nothing’s been won yet. Nothin’ at all.”
And with that, he gets up and walks back to the clubhouse, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fallon
“How is your portfolio coming?” he asks.
“It’s coming. Slowly. But it’s coming,” I reply. “I’m having a hard time figuring out which pieces I want to send to Danny.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you can’t go wrong. They’re all brilliant, and Danny will be lucky to have them in his gallery,” he says.
“You are horribly biased.”
“I don’t think being biased is horrible.”
I laugh and shake my head at him. Blake is leaning against the wall next to the door as I go through all the canvases I’ve got stacked up in my studio. It’s harder than I thought to narrow it down to half a dozen of my favorites. Or maybe a dozen. I need to give him a little variety and let him see my range.
“Do you think it’s possible that you’re overthinking this?” he asks.
I stop and look at him, an incredulous expression on my face. “Seriously? I don’t think it’s possible to overthink something like this,” I tell him. “This is potentially going to get me my first gallery show. Which means, what I submit has to be perfect.”
He raises his hands in surrender and smiles at me. “Okay, okay. You win. You’re not overthinking it.”
“Damn right I’m not.”
I walk over to Blake and pull him into a tight embrace. Then I plant a lingering kiss on his lips. And when I draw back, I see him smiling.
“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” he asks.
