Talon gets the text fifteen minutes later and we load up into the van then head down. Singer has cleared the way for us at the entrance with one of his men, no one questions us as we drive through.
“So far so good.”
“Don’t you fucking start,” Talon grumbles from behind Jefferson, who is driving the van and will wait inside while the three of us load up.
We follow Singer’s directions and come to a stop at the container. It’s far back from the lights of the very active dock and there are two men waiting by it when we hop out and Jefferson backs the van up to the door. One man nods and opens the container, the other one comes into the light and lifts his chin.
“Wasn’t expecting you to be here,” I tell Singer.
“When it’s a new crew, I like to oversee everything. You have any trouble?”
“No, all good.”
We watch mine and Singer’s men move. They’re like a well-oiled machine.
“You don’t want to check it?”
“Got word at the start of the journey that everything was as it needs to be. And I don’t have any reason not to trust you,” I turn back to him. “Do I?”
“It would be bad for business for shit like that to happen.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit pants and glances around. He doesn’t seem nervous, so I stay somewhat relaxed but I’m never fully off guard.
The doors to the van slam and Monroe gets back inside. Talon comes over to us.
“All good?” Singer asks.
“Yep, same way out?”
Singer nods. “You won’t have any problems.”
“The money is on its way.”
“Pleasure doing business with you. I’ll be in touch.”
He heads away with his man after he’s locked up the container.
Talon grins at me. “I checked everything,” he says. “It’s all there.”
I nod. I might have told Singer I trust him, but you can never be too careful in this business. Especially when you’re shipping a fuck load of guns into the country. “I’ll feel more comfortable when we get out of here. Let’s go.”
We head to the van and drive away. None of us breathe easy until we’re driving away from the port. Talon and Jefferson start talking about how good everything went and how we’re going to have a great partnership with Singer.
They’re right, even with the split for Singer, we’ve made a shit load of money on this deal. There is no way King is going to doubt what we’ve pulled off here.
By the time we’ve got everything stowed at the warehouse and back to the clubhouse it’s way too late to go back to Parsippany.
The guys want to party and get a few drinks, but I beg off and go to one of the few bedrooms. No one else ever uses this room, it’s off limits. I strip off my T-shirt and boots and sit down on the bed. Taking out my phone I wonder what in the fuck I’m doing when I text Handlebar to tell him I won’t be back till morning.
I’m surprised he replies given it’s after three AM. He texts that he’s not going to the garage tomorrow so I don’tneed to rush.
When the fuck did we get so domestic? And when did I lose my head because I type out a message asking if she is alright, but delete it before I can hit send. Tossing the phone on the nightstand, I take off my jeans and get into bed.
Sleep is a long time coming, and it’s not because of the job we pulled. It’s the dark-haired, dark-eyed siren who is overtaking my every thought. And it’s the two of them I’m thinking about when I grab my dick and jerk myself off to a fast and heart pounding climax.
I have no idea if she is going to forgive me and let me anywhere near her, but I intend to do everything in my power to convince her I’m not the asshole she thinks I am.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dominic (Mace)
