I knew that was a bullshit lie. Axle himself had negotiated for thirty of the guns.Remember they’re going to test you.
“Funny,” I said, albeit with the driest of mouths. “I was told thirty.”
Jerome made a show of eying me up and down as if trying me on for size.
“Twenty,” he said.
“Then, you only get three grand.”
Jerome pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and puffed in my face.
“The fuck you trying to pull here, Little Lane?”
I was scared shitless. We were outnumbered, they had the guns, and while we had guns, we were still fucking outnumbered. Maybe I’d get a couple, but I was walking an awfully taut tightrope.
“Trying to do what’s fair here, Jerome,” I said. “Now, if you want to renegotiate the deal, we’ll leave here tonight and discuss tomorrow. I came here with five grand as I promised. If you ever want repeat business, we’re going to need thirty of those guns.”
Jerome again puffed smoke, though this time, he seemed to make it a point to not puff it in my face.
“You got a little bit of your pops in you, Little Lane, I like that,” Jerome said. “Roger ain’t never fuck with us, and you better not go down that road either, you know what I’m saying?”
“Entirely,” I said. “I’ve got enough on my hands with the fucking Fallen Saints and this new deputy DA bitch.”
“Something we can handle?”
It sounded nice enough, almost like an olive branch of sorts for the way the conversation had started. But I saw it even with my limited experience for what it was—a chance for Jerome and the Hovas at large to have something over me, something they could invoke at any moment to get what they wanted out of me.
“We’re good,” I said. “The Saints are always going to be our rival. The DA’s girl is a pain in the ass, but nothing we can’t handle.”
Jerome nodded, took a puff of his cigarette, and motioned for all the guns to come out.
“You’re not so bad, Little Lane.”
I’m going to grow to hate that nickname if I don’t find a way to nip it in the bud.Jerome smiled as if able to read my mind.
“Bring them out. All of ‘em.”
In the middle, with about ten feet separating us, two separate sets of bags flew. One with the five grand in cash, and one with the thirty rifles. Butch and Axle quickly tested the guns, confirmed that they were authentic and real, and headed for their bikes. I extended my hand to Jerome.
“I’m still a Carter,” I said.
I was a bit surprised by the audacity of my move. It hadn’t felt like something I would’ve done at the beginning, but Patriot was right in one respect—as soon as things started to happen, I naturally fell into a leadership role.
“You’re young, kid,” Jerome said.
But then he ended up shaking my hand anyway.
“But you’re Roger’s kid. And that—”
Multiple shots fired.
“Shit!” I yelled as I sprinted back behind the van, taking cover.
“Is this your fucking genius move?” Jerome yelled. “You sell us out, white boy?!?”
“What the fuck?” I yelled.
“Fucking Saints!” one of the Hovas yelled.
