“Or he’ll take off without us again.”
“It was one time.” Rafe bit back the smile in his tone. Balas, while he should have been crated, much preferred to ride shotgun and had no problems letting himself out of the crate to sit where he thought he should. Sometimes his paws hit the handbrake as he climbed into his favorite spot. But his sending the truck though the front door of an elder’s hut in Afghanistan had taken a lot of fast talking and a couple of thousand dollars to smooth over.
More than the fucking hut was worth in the first place.
Loading into the truck was a well-practiced routine and within seconds, Castello drove out of the driveway and headed toward downtown Miami and the address Sawyer had handed him on his way out the door.
Chapter 7
“Fuck off.” Axel slammed down the phone. Asshole ATF bastards had convinced him the best way for him to get information from Gavin Kony was to follow the fucker to Africa. He had done that and look where it got him.
Captured, beaten, and rescued by Castello and his team. Now the assholes had the audacity to ask him if he had the diamonds Kony had purchased with Givens money. It was kinda ironic, really, the Diamond mob buying diamonds. But it also kinda made sense, in a ‘weird shit people do’ kind of way.
Axel flipped down the mask, sparked up the welder, and got to work.
Fucking assholes, distracting him. He had shit to do if he wanted to afford another trip abroad. This one to Mexico. Custom Harleys—those he could build in his sleep. Hell, he dreamed up designs while he slept and sketched them out before getting out of bed in the morning. This was how he earned his money. If he completed this project in the next ten days, the customer had promised him a bonus. That bonus would cover what he needed to do.
“Hey, Mister!”
Axel jumped at the sound of a man’s voice. He studied the man walking toward him and frowned when he didn’t recognize him. Customers tended not to just show up at his workshop. Most of his pieces were top secret until they were completed and delivered. Giving a quick glance to the metal strewn on the bench, he confirmed he didn’t have the plans lying about where this man could see. The way the man moved through the shop reminded Axel of Castello. This was a man who reminded him of a cat ready to pounce. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’ve been sent to bring you to your workshop for the next month or so.”
The man sidestepped the twisted and melted block of metal that used to be a finished bike, until the customer’s ex torched it.
“The fuck?” Despite his confusion, Axel refused to step back, even though the man was crowding him, “This is my shop.” Reaching out to a shelf over his head, he frowned when the man tensed. “I’m just grabbing a pack of smokes.” When the man nodded, he pulled them down. He kept them there for the homeless man who sometimes showed up looking to earn enough for a meal at the diner down the street, but right now they gave him an excuse to put himself in a place where he wasn’t cornered. “I smoke outside.” he told the man, “Too much fuel and stuff here, and I’m a bit of a
klutz.”Make him think you are an idiot. Good plan.Axel held his breath as he led the way to the door, all the time waiting for a hit on the back of the head or something similar. When he made it through the door unscathed, he was surprised.
“Why should I go anywhere with you?” he asked, “I have a perfectly good shop here, are you sure you have the right place, man?”
“Mr. Givens is providing you with a new shop.” The man moved closer.
For every step he took, Axel took a step to the side, all the time moving closer to where he had parked his bike earlier.
“You are going to make it easy and come along so we can all fucking go home.” The man said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but if I have to I will.”
Fight or run… Fight or run.Axel knew he didn’t have time to decide, he needed to pick, and he needed to pick freaking now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a jacked-up truck drive almost past his lot, before the brakes screeched as they slammed on and the truck reversed, then stopped. The passenger door opened, and a massive man dressed in black stepped out, followed by the other doors opening and three more men joining the first. Oh, fucking fabulous. More of them. It took a couple of seconds for recognition to hit. Oh, thank you sweet baby Jesus in a tuxedo t-shirt, that was Castello and his guys.
“Hey, Colgan.” The first man called. “That you man?”
The man who had been stalking Axel across the lot paused mid-step.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, then called out, “McGuire?”
“Yup.” Zack slammed the door of the truck and walked toward them,
“Howdy.” He nodded to Axel, then held out a hand to the one he’d called Colgan. “How the hell are ya?” He asked him.
“Uh—um.” Colgan stuttered for a second, clearly caught off guard by this man who knew him. “Same shit, different day, similar to a Twisted Sister.”
“I’m Zack.” The man held out his hand to Axel.
Yup, I know you are, you’re staying at my house.But figuring it was better not to say that out loud, Axel took Zack’s hand and shook it, “Axel.”
“Ah, Axel Shaw?” Zack asked.
“Yup.”
