beyond the eight of us—and I need to start a side enterprise. Don’t worry, it’s not even stayin’ in the country. My uncle in the UK needs some and I need some extra money for a legal defense fund…I have a feeling some old shit is comin’ down the pipeline and I’ll need to be prepared. How much for a side cut?”
Carlito laughed out loud. “I have a whole factory I’m responsible for. Pops can’t watch it all. How much you need?”
“Ten kilos.”
“You know those dolls in that movie, Traffic ? We make ‘em…it’s a fuckin piñata factory. I’ll make ‘em and I won’t even charge for labor. Where’s it going?”
“London…and Belfast…but my uncle will distribute to Belfast. I’m paying for it and when he receives it, he wires me the money.”
Carlito whistled. “A lot can go wrong, mano . I just hope you know what you’re doin’.”
Cillian lit a cigarette and dragged deeply. “So do I.”
“Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll let you know how long it’ll take to get that much product and how much it’s gonna cost you. I gotta give you a family discount…you need it pure?”
“I’d prefer it to not be…if you have some shit in the factory to dilute it then do it.”
“Okay…seventy percent cocaine, thirty percent baby powder.”
“Make it sixty-forty.”
“Hey, it’s your drugs, man.”
“What’s the potency of the product you’re currently selling to us?”
“Ninety-ten. The strongest shit you can get a hold of without going to Colombia and dealin’ with the drug lords themselves. Believe me, you don’t wanna, not even for an extra ten percent.”
Cillian dragged on his cigarette again before he looked at his guys and nodded his head. Cricket and Kink began to load up the crates into the back of the van while Ronan stood there with his brother. They exchanged the money in two black duffel bags that weighed a ton. Carlito took a bag and Lil Benny took the other.
“As always, nice doing business with you and see you next month.” Carlito didn’t bother with the shaking hands bit.
He was their cousin after all, and Cillian realized if he couldn’t trust him then who could he trust?
Absolutely no one except Gisela.
Even when she’d let him down, and walked out of his life, that hadn’t been her choice. With the kind of parents she had, the upscale criminal circles, which they moved in, being with someone like him hadn’t been feasible at the time. Not at the age of sixteen.
If he’d only waited a few years to be so damn irresponsible and knock her up, there wouldn’t have been anything her parents could have done about the situation. The damage could have caused harsher relations between the Saints that already existed between them and the guineas—not to mention Jackson family—but at least he would have been happy. He’d spent over twelve years of his life being a miserable piece of shit who hated everything, and everyone—his kids, Gisela, and his brothers were the exception—because he couldn’t stand what he’d become.
A fucking biker cliché. Big man with a gun who liked to get his aggressions out by shooting, maiming and torturing people who’d wronged the LS.
Ronan grabbed his shoulder, shattering him out of his contemplation. “Come on, man. One more thing to do and we can go back to the Club house and celebrate.”
“I wanted to see Gisela—”
“Naomi is gonna drop by her place and pick her up. After tonight, you might not want to leave the Club house for a while until the Feds come knockin’, know what I mean?”
The two men walked out to their Harleys as the members of Aztecas Infierno got into a late model black van and took off. Carlito was the only one who owned a Harley but his was a classic, one Cillian had personally restored himself.
“You boys be safe and if there are any issues, Emilio will be making the call to
Carlito laughed out loud. “I have a whole factory I’m responsible for. Pops can’t watch it all. How much you need?”
“Ten kilos.”
“You know those dolls in that movie, Traffic ? We make ‘em…it’s a fuckin piñata factory. I’ll make ‘em and I won’t even charge for labor. Where’s it going?”
“London…and Belfast…but my uncle will distribute to Belfast. I’m paying for it and when he receives it, he wires me the money.”
Carlito whistled. “A lot can go wrong, mano . I just hope you know what you’re doin’.”
Cillian lit a cigarette and dragged deeply. “So do I.”
“Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll let you know how long it’ll take to get that much product and how much it’s gonna cost you. I gotta give you a family discount…you need it pure?”
“I’d prefer it to not be…if you have some shit in the factory to dilute it then do it.”
“Okay…seventy percent cocaine, thirty percent baby powder.”
“Make it sixty-forty.”
“Hey, it’s your drugs, man.”
“What’s the potency of the product you’re currently selling to us?”
“Ninety-ten. The strongest shit you can get a hold of without going to Colombia and dealin’ with the drug lords themselves. Believe me, you don’t wanna, not even for an extra ten percent.”
Cillian dragged on his cigarette again before he looked at his guys and nodded his head. Cricket and Kink began to load up the crates into the back of the van while Ronan stood there with his brother. They exchanged the money in two black duffel bags that weighed a ton. Carlito took a bag and Lil Benny took the other.
“As always, nice doing business with you and see you next month.” Carlito didn’t bother with the shaking hands bit.
He was their cousin after all, and Cillian realized if he couldn’t trust him then who could he trust?
Absolutely no one except Gisela.
Even when she’d let him down, and walked out of his life, that hadn’t been her choice. With the kind of parents she had, the upscale criminal circles, which they moved in, being with someone like him hadn’t been feasible at the time. Not at the age of sixteen.
If he’d only waited a few years to be so damn irresponsible and knock her up, there wouldn’t have been anything her parents could have done about the situation. The damage could have caused harsher relations between the Saints that already existed between them and the guineas—not to mention Jackson family—but at least he would have been happy. He’d spent over twelve years of his life being a miserable piece of shit who hated everything, and everyone—his kids, Gisela, and his brothers were the exception—because he couldn’t stand what he’d become.
A fucking biker cliché. Big man with a gun who liked to get his aggressions out by shooting, maiming and torturing people who’d wronged the LS.
Ronan grabbed his shoulder, shattering him out of his contemplation. “Come on, man. One more thing to do and we can go back to the Club house and celebrate.”
“I wanted to see Gisela—”
“Naomi is gonna drop by her place and pick her up. After tonight, you might not want to leave the Club house for a while until the Feds come knockin’, know what I mean?”
The two men walked out to their Harleys as the members of Aztecas Infierno got into a late model black van and took off. Carlito was the only one who owned a Harley but his was a classic, one Cillian had personally restored himself.
“You boys be safe and if there are any issues, Emilio will be making the call to
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