Protected Pt. 01

I rose so the door could open. "Still here?" Willow asked as she stepped out of the truck.

"We're not going anyplace."

"Well, I'm going home for lunch."

I walked around to the passenger side of her Jeep and sat down without saying a word. The ride to the RV was tense and silent. When we arrived, Willow stepped out of the Jeep and went inside while I took up a position outside. Unfortunately, the RV was parked so that the sun was beating on the right side. I stood tight against the front of the rig in a sliver of shade beside the door. I didn't know the exact temp since there was no cell reception, but had to be pushing a hundred. It was a good thing we decided not send someone back to help with coverage today. Without the Ghillie net to provide some shade, the brother in the field would have suffered... badly.

A moment later the RV door opened again. "Aren't you coming inside?"

"I'm good."

"Suit yourself," she said then closed the door. A few minutes later it opened again. "This is stupid. Come inside where it's cool."

"Thank you. I didn't want to intrude." I climbed the three steps into the wonderfully cool coach, shutting the door behind me.

"I know it's not your fault you're here, and you're just doing your job. I just think it's a waste of money."

"And the drugs," I said, getting the elephant out in the room.

"And yeah, the drugs. I don't approve of what you do."

"Did," I corrected as I bent and gave the cat weaving around my legs a quick scratch behind the ears. "As I said, we don't do that anymore."

She looked at me a moment. "What do you want for lunch?"

"Nothing. Thank you."

She seemed to slump a little. "Do you want a turkey or ham sandwich? That's what I'm having. I can't have my bodyguard keeling over from lack of food."

"Either is fine. I'll have what you're having. Thank you."

"Tell me about this drug business you're no longer in. What did you do?" she asked as she laid out the bread. "Mustard or mayo?"

"Make mine just like yours. There's nothing to tell, really. The BDMC used to mule for the Víbora Cartel. A little over two years ago we got out of the business and are going legit. No more drugs."

"Why'd you quit?"

"Let's just say the club came to the conclusion that being tied to the drug trade wasn't in our best long-term interest," I said, not wanting to get into the gruesome details.

"So, you just up and quit?"

"A better way of putting it would be that we were fired, but, yeah, that's essentially it. That's fine with me. I never agreed with what we were doing anyway."

She placed the two sandwiches on plates and then placed the plates on the table, along with a bag of kettle cooked potato chips and pops. "So, why'd you do it, then?"

"Because those guys were my friends. I knew what was going on, we all did, but most of us never handled the drugs. There were only about fifty brothers who actually handled the drugs, none of whom are still in the club." I took a bite of the sandwich.

"What did you do?"

I finished chewing and swallowed. "Good," I said, gesturing with the sandwich. "I was in charge of logistics. I made sure our guys were in the right place at the right time to pick up and deliver the merchandise, and coordinated the exchange with the distributors. Fish was the Secretary and handled the money. Grace modified the cartel's cars, trucks, and vans with hidden compartments. We had brothers who worked as blockers, riding ahead of and behind the mules so we avoided, shall we say, legal entanglements. We also had a bunch of brothers who had nothing to do with the drugs at all."

"But you did?"

"Yeah, indirectly. I used my cut to start my own business."

That seemed to surprise her. "You have your own business? Doing what?"

"Would you believe I own a drilling company?"

"You're a driller? You're kidding me."

"No. The difference is I'm small and I drill for water."

She studied me for a long moment as she chewed slowly. "How many in your club?"

"Twenty-two."

"Only twenty-two? You just said you had fifty guys running the drugs."

"That's true, but I also said they were no longer in the club."

She nodded. "That you did, but you made it sound like the club was bigger than even the seventy-whatever."

"It was bigger. Over two-hundred."

"Where'd everybody go?"

I looked at my half-eaten sandwich and placed it on my plate. "Some are dead," I said softly. "A few left. Those who remain, the final twenty-two, are the locals, the men who'd put down roots."

She watched me for another long moment, saying nothing. "Where's home?"

"Rio Lago."

"Never heard of it."

"No reason you should. It's about seventy miles north and west of here. A nice little place of about five thousand."

"And what did Rio Lago think of what you did?"

"They didn't know."

"What do you mean they didn't know? How could they not know?"

"Because we made sure to keep the drugs away from town. Exchanges were always done out of town, and while I'm sure there were and are drugs in town, they're brought in from outside because we controlled the transportation of the drugs in this part of the Texas. We made sure there were no dealers in town."

For the third time she looked at me for a long moment without saying anything. Each time she did, I could tell she was thinking. "I don't get you at all."

"What's to get? Drugs are a nasty business. We don't want that in our town, so we kept it out as much as possible because we had the means to do so. Still do."

"So, you're drug runners, were drug runners," she corrected quickly, "but you didn't let drugs into your town? Kind of a not in my backyard thing?"

I shrugged. "The drugs are coming into the country if we moved them or not. They were coming in before we took over the transportation, and they're still coming in now that we've stopped. By controlling the flow of drugs, we could steer it around the town, so we did."

Again there was that long pause before she spoke. "If you're out of the business, how are you controlling the drugs now?"

"Let's just say we have a gentleman's agreement with the cartel, which may be part of the problem. Larke Oil may be squeezing off one of their supply routes."

She nodded. "Now I'm starting to see the big picture. Because you were involved in the drug trade, you know what to look for."

"That, and the fact we controlled Maverick County at one time, and we kind of know who looks right and who doesn't. Plus, as I said, we have some experience protecting high value targets. We're not exactly popular with the Víbora Cartel, but if we find out it is the Víbora Cartel that's causing issues, we may be able to warn them off before someone gets hurt."

She popped a chip into her mouth and crunched before she wiped her fingers on the napkin. "Can we start over?"

"Start over?"

She grinned and stuck her hand across the table. "Hi! I'm Willow Larke. I understand you're my new security team."

I chuckled and quickly wiped my fingers before taking her hand. "Nice to meet you, Willow. I'm Colt Arne. My men and I are here to help keep you safe while trying to minimize our pain in your ass."

She snickered as she leaned back in her chair. "I'm sorry I came across as such a bitch. I thought Aunt Pam had lost her ever-loving mind, but I'm starting to see the logic in her decision."

When she smiled her entire face lit up, making her more attractive still. "It's okay. I know how most people view what we did. I never liked it myself, but that's behind us now and we are trying to look to the future. That's why this job is important to us. It may be a way for us to break into a legitimate business and get back on our feet, so we're vested in keeping you safe. I don't think your aunt will give us a recommendation if we let you get killed."

She was taking a sip of her pop when I spoke, and I grinned as she snorted and then struggled not to spit it out.