I nod my head. This was the meat of my profit. My US and overseas runners brought in billions yearly for me. Kingston’s men head to the back of my SUV to hand off the cash to my crew.
The rumble of motorcycles catches our attention. Two bikes and a SUV pull up and stop. The Outlaw Brotherhood is run by Roman or Rome Brixx. Rome was one of those easy-going guys. He wasn’t flashy with his money; you would never know he was bringing in millions of dollars a year. He was a country boy at heart but knew how to handle business.
Rome takes off his helmet and places it on his bike. He walks over to me with his little brother Axel behind him.
“How’s it going, Kingston, Bishop?” Rome greets the others before shaking my hand. “Saint,” he says by way of greeting.
“What it do, Rome,” Kingston lifts his chin in greeting. “Axel, I thought you were coming to see me last month?”
Axel shakes his head. “Shit came up. But I’ll be out your way in a few months.”
Kingston nods. I shake Axel’s hand.
Rome’s guys step forward with their duffels.
“Seven hundred and fifty thousand,” Rome says. “I still have two crates I’m collecting on tomorrow, so another 500,000. I’ll have that to you later this week.”
“All good. I know you’re good for it.”
The men he has with him take his bags to the back of my SUV. Right on time, Thiago and his crew pull up. Thiago steps down out of his massive F-150. He’s followed by his second in command and a few others.
Thiago was one of the quiet ones. He was always focused on his money. I respected that.
“Muthafucker you always late,” Bishop says jokingly.
We all laugh. Thiago holds his hands out at his sides.
“It’s called being fashionably late. You wouldn’t know anything about that.” He walks over to me and daps me up. “Hola, Saint.”
“How’s it going, Thiago?”
“I can’t complain, Papi.” His men immediately take the duffels to the back of the SUV to load up. “1.75 million.” Thiago folds his arms across his chest. “Now, what’s this shit about crates going missing?”
Like I said, Thiago was always about his business. I definitely respected it.
“Someone made a side deal behind my back. One of my shipping containers went missing. That’s 400 crates, and there could be more. I was told I lost a shipment at sea, but that could be a lie too.”
Kingston hisses. “Any idea who could have fucked you over?”
“The list is endless.”
They all nod. Although they aren’t as far up in this shit as I am, they all have enough money and power to have their fair share of enemies.
“So far, three crates have shown back up.”
“Five,” Rome says, getting my attention.
Rome reached out to me and told me he had some information. I’m assuming this is the info he had.
“My contact in the Death Riders said—”
“Hold up,” Kingston says, holding up a hand. “Aren’t you beefing with them muthafuckers? When you get a contact?”
Despite how important the information Rome has is, I too was invested in this question. I don’t involve myself in the MC world, but I know the shit between the Death Riders and the Outlaw Brotherhood is serious.
Rome smirks, rubbing his chin.
“The president and I have a mutual understanding.”
