“Just try to relax, you can raise hell when you get there.” I nod my head in agreement, because raise hell is exactly what I plan to do.
“Give me the rundown, let me know what to expect. Where is the car with the money and shit?”
“There will be a black sedan with at least three men in it, and they’ll be armed to the teeth. They arrive at the back entrance where the armored truck takes the money for deposit, one of the men who helps load the trucks will take the marked bags and hand them off to one of the men driving the sedan. The pick-up is always on schedule…never late. What is today?” Taking my eyes from the window I look at Lip.
“Friday.”
“The truck will do its pick up right before the rush then, eight PM.”
“How do you know all this?”
“When I was sixteen I was the one loading the trucks. Dad made me.”
Lip’s eyes flick between the road and me. “Seriously? If you had gotten caught—”
“He would have killed me, I know.”
Lip takes in a staggered breath. “That’s not what I was going to say, I was going to say you would’ve done hard time.”
Trailing my gaze from the road to Lip, I pin him with a serious stare. “There’s more frightening things in life than doing hard time, it’s called family.”
Lip looks at the clock on the dashboard, the engine roaring with more acceleration.
“We’ll be there in a couple of hours, we’ll get the money, and then we’ll get your woman.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Zeek
PULLING INTO VEGAS, I point at Uncle Frank’s casino. “That’s it.”
“So that is Uncle Frank’s famous Sin Casino?” Lip leans forward eyeing the building that is illuminated in red.
“Yep, that’s all his.”
The armored truck catches my attention pulling into the parking lot of the casino, and turns to the point of pickup.
“Right on time,” I say out loud, my palms twitching for the excitement ahead.
My phone rings, catching my attention.
“I’m in. Where do you want us?” Felix informs. Relief floods me that he has my back. I need him, and I don’t say that about many people in my life.
“When the sedan leaves, follow it.”
“Got it.”
The armored truck pulls out of the lot first, heading left as the sleek looking sedan turns right.
“You were right,” Lip sounds shocked. Scowling, I glance at him. Did he think I was lying?
Putting the SUV in drive, Lip follows the sedan. We stay back about a half mile making sure not to be seen. Motorcycles zip beside us. Looking out the window, I find my boys. Machete smiling and flipping me off.
“Yours?” Lip questions.
“Yeah, they’d be mine.”
The sedan pulls onto a side road that leads to the freeway. The hairs on the back of my neck raise. Nobody to see the altercation go down, it’s now or never.
“Now.” The words come out husky, and my eyes hood as I cock my gun.
Rolling down my window, I pull my gun out and aim it at the right back tire. Pulling the trigger, a bullet bites into the rubber, making the tire blow. The car slows, and a man with a black hat sticks his head out the window, blowing his hat right off. Tugging himself fully out of the window, he pulls out a Colt AR 15.
“Oh fuck!” I holler, darting back into the car.
Bullets spray across the windshield, tearing into the seats and headliner. Chunks of glass spraying back toward my arms and face. Rage, pure sweet fucking rage races through my limbs as I duck for cover.
“Jesus Christ!” Lip shouts and hunches under the steering wheel. He peers up over the wheel, and slams on the accelerator as we race forward.
“I’m going to fucking kill every one of them!” I holler above the chaos, pulling my .45 from my holster.
“Hold on!” Lip instructs.
Ignoring him I aim at the car just as Lip clips the back bumper of the sedan. I’m thrown forward, my head connecting with part of the windshield, and my shoulder hitting the dash. The man with the Colt AR 15 is nearly thrown from the window, as the car spins out of control before coming to an abrupt stop.
“What the fuck?!” I yell. My forehead stings and my shoulder burns. Pressing my fingers to my hairline I find blood. Not a lot, but enough for me to glare at Lip.
“What? I said hold on.”
The Devil’s Dust and the Outlaws circle the car, weapons aimed as they get off their bikes. It looks like a fucking SWAT team, but it’s worse, it’s criminals without law.
Stepping out of the car, I pull both my guns out and aim them at the passenger door. The men begin to emerge from the car, guns in hand and every single man standing with leather on their backs open fire.
Not giving them a chance to return fire, we riddle their bodies with bullets.
They fall to the desert floor, blood seeping through their clothes, the black sedan sporting bullet holes from one end to the other.
“Jesus Christ, that was awesome!” Machete yells, slapping me on the back in excitement.