Page 52 of Reno

“The US Federal Government is the biggest criminal on the planet,” he growled.

“You won’t get any argument from me on that statement.”

He shifted his attention to Crip. Slowly, his eyes thinned to slits.

Crip, obviously tired of the bullshit accusations, stood. He took off his vest and set it aside. He removed his tee shirt. He unlaced his boots and set them beside the vest. Then, he unbuckled his belt, lowered his jeans, and tossed them on top of the shirt.

I looked at him like he was nuts.

What the fuck are you doing, Brother?

He sat down.

As naked as the day he was born, he crossed his arms and stared back at Alacrán. “If I was a cop, I’d be wearing a wire. If you think there’s one in that pile of clothes, feel free to toss ‘em in that fireplace. I’m keeping the vest and boots, though. Can’t ride out of here barefoot.”

Wearing a slight smile, Alacrán looked him over. “The tattoo on your arm,” he said, gesturing toward Crip’s bicep. “The Marines?”

The SEAL Trident resembled the Marine Corp Eagle, Globe, and Anchor. It was a good guess, but inaccurate.

“US Navy,” Crip said. “That’s a SEAL trident.”

“You were a SEAL?”

“I was.”

Alacrán gave a nod. “You can get dressed, Mister Rasmussen.”

I clapped my hands together. “Are we doing business, or parting as friends?”

“We’ll make three deliveries,” he responded. “Based on the price you mentioned. Payment will be expected at the time of each delivery.”

It wasn’t what I’d hoped for. I had my doubts Alacrán would risk coming to the United States for the delivery, unless the funds weren’t produced at the time of delivery. Then, he certainly wouldn’t come announced.

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “When can we expect the first delivery?”

He patted Manos on the bicep. “It will be organized through our mutual friend, Bobby.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Are you hungry?” Manos asked.

It was eleven o’clock at night, and Carma was sitting at Crip’s house with her thumb in her respective ass. The last thing I needed to do was eat a meal.

“I’m always hungry.” I looked at Crip. “You hungry Rex?”

“If you’re eatin’, I’m eatin’,” Crip responded.

“We’re in,” I said. “What are we having?”

“Primo barbequed a goat,” Manos said. “Ees good.”

I’d never eaten goat, nor had I shared a michelada with a notorious psychopathic drug dealer. I’d never kissed a woman as passionately or as purposefully as I’d kissed Carma, either.

My life was being peppered with firsts.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the next one would be.

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