He apologized for all the people he’d killed, the women he’d abused, and the children who’d suffered when their drug-addicted parents overdosed. He promised to go to church every Sunday, live clean, and give to charity. He would disband the cartel and leave Montana. Hell, he would even stop dealing with the Black Jacks. Anything but get into the trunk of Zane’s Chrysler 300C. He’d heard about trunking, and although he was confident someone would pay his ransom before he ran out of air, he had suffered from claustrophobia since childhood. Surely the Sinners had mercy. Maybe Jagger and his men would like a couple of lines of speed on the house instead? Good-quality stuff.
“I want the location of the Jacks’ icehouse.” Jagger tapped Fuentes on the head with the barrel of his gun to get the drug lord’s attention. The Black Jacks were making a fortune by producing their own crystal meth locally and avoiding the transport costs charged by the Mexican cartels. “Give me an address and you can steer clear of a cruise around the city in my trunk.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Fuentes trembled. “I meet with the Jacks. They give me the stuff. I don’t know where it comes from.”
Zane shook his head. “He’s lying.”
Jagger thought so, too. He also thought it odd that a grown man would hug himself as if overcome with remorse. Too late, he realized that T-Rex, the club’s most senior prospect, and Bandit, their newest full-patch, had missed a weapon the drug lord was hiding down the back of his pants.
Fuentes’s gun flashed in the moonlight. Jagger dodged to the side, and the bullet skimmed past him. Zane fired next. Fuentes screamed and dropped his gun, both hands flying to hold his leg.
“Fuck.” Cade rubbed his brow. “Why did you have to go and shoot him? He was worth at least two hundred grand alive, and now we have no lead on the location of the Black Jack icehouse.”
“I shot him in the leg.” Zane gave Cade an affronted glare. “And it’s just a flesh wound. If we bandage him right, and his people pay the price, he’ll live to deal drugs another day. You should be praising me for my accuracy, something you can never hope to achieve, since you shoot like a fucking girl.”
“Like you need another pat on the back.” Cade shot Zane a scathing look as he reached for Fuentes’s arm and yanked him to his feet. “Your ego is so big, I have to step around it.”
“Look who’s talking.” Zane grabbed Fuentes’s other arm, and together he and Cade dragged the moaning drug lord to the vehicle. “You have women falling at your feet. We go out to a bar, and I know I’ll be drinking alone because thirty seconds in the door, you’ll have picked up some chick who can’t keep her hands off you.”
After bandaging Fuentes’s leg, they opened the trunk of the vehicle and heaved Fuentes into it, raising their voices to be heard over his screams. “What can I say?” Cade grinned. “Women love me for my pretty face and my huge—”
“Cade.” Jagger cut him off with a sharp bark. “How about a little professionalism? We’re trunking, not comparing dick sizes. Call Fuentes’s people and tell them he has only a few hours to live and the price just went up. I want five hundred grand and the location of the icehouse in a bag in the Dumpster outside Mountain Grill’s on Ferguson just off the 191—otherwise, the trunk becomes his permanent home.” He glared at Bandit and T-Rex, who were quivering in the shadows. “I should throw you in there with him. There’s no excuse for missing that weapon.”
Tall, blond, and built like a football linebacker, T-Rex whimpered. His dark-haired companion, Bandit, paled. Good. Jagger wanted them scared and thinking about the screwup for the rest of the night. He’d had closer calls, but regardless, he needed to be able to trust his men not to make the kinds of mistakes that could cost lives.
They drove around for an hour while Fuentes shouted and banged on the trunk. Zane shared a few stories about his years as a firefighter, and Cade talked about his women. Jagger tuned them out. There was only one woman he wanted to think about. A woman who hid a soft vulnerability behind a tough exterior. Strong. Brave. Beautiful. And totally off-limits, not just because she was the enemy, but also because he’d put her in danger once already, and it damn well wouldn’t happen again.
The phone rang, and Cade confirmed Fuentes’s people had agreed to the terms. Cheers and laughter all around. The money would help renovate the new clubhouse and finance the imminent destruction of the icehouse, which would put a severe dent in the Black Jacks’ financial operations.
Twenty minutes later, they dragged an enraged, groaning Fuentes from the trunk and dumped him on the ground. T-Rex retrieved a sports bag from the Dumpster and fished out a piece of paper, holding it up for Fuentes to see before handing it to Jagger.
“There’s an address on the piece of paper,” Jagger said to Fuentes. “You’re going to give me the address of the icehouse. If it matches, then you’re free to go. If your people have given me the wrong address, you’ll pay the price.”