“Brothers,” he echoes, thumping me on the back hard enough to rattle my lungs. “Family. Forever. We’re gonna build a dynasty around here, Arch. We’re gonna show everyone who tries to fuck with us that the Reyes name deserves respect.” He pushes me back, punching me in the shoulder. “Now, come on. I’ll introduce you to the crew.”
My pulse is pounding as I step onto the narrow gangplank. I follow Jaxon up the incline, trying to keep my breaths shallow as I step onto the ship. She rocks lightly with the incoming tide, swaying against her dock lines.
“Welcome aboard the lovely Reina. Our queen of the seas.” Jaxon’s grin is a flash of white in the darkness. There’s a manic edge to it. I wonder if he’s been sampling whatever products fill the holds beneath our feet. “That’s Cisco up on the bow. You’ve already met. And down here…”
I follow him into the main cabin, squinting against the sudden burst of light against my retinas. It takes a moment for the spots to clear from my visual field. When they do, I find myself standing in a fairly large room with wood-paneled walls and round, portal windows dotted every few feet. There are three men seated at a built-in table to my right, playing a round of poker. Two handguns sit beside the stack of cards. A clear plastic bag of something white and granular rests beside an ashtray.
The room goes completely still as we enter. Even the smoke trailing from their cigarettes seems to halt midair. I try to breathe, try to remember that there’s a team of highly trained agents only moments away if these men decide to squash me a like a bug against a windshield — which is pretty much what their expressions are broadcasting.
Fuck.
“That’s Lopez,” Jax points to a middle-aged man with massive fists and a teardrop tattoo on his face. “That’s Stutter.” His finger swings toward a shorter, stockier man with chest muscles bulging from his soiled wife-beater. “And that skinny guy is Gordo.” Jax laughs at the third man, who can’t weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet. He looks barely old enough to drive, let alone be seated at that table, but he bristles with bravado when he catches me starting at him.
“Figueroa is asleep in the bunk room, through there.” Jaxon jerks his chin to the left, where a dim hallway extends into darkness beyond my line of sight. “There are only four berths, so we sleep in shifts. ‘Cept me, of course. I get my own room. Captain’s quarters. My perk for organizing this little expedition.”
The rest of the crew look considerably less thrilled by this setup than Jaxon. In fact, they look borderline homicidal as they stare from me to my brother and back again in terse silence.
“Who the fuck is he?” Lopez asks, setting down his cards.
“Yeah,” Gordo hisses. “What is it, bring a narc to work day?”
Jaxon rolls his eyes. “He’s not a narc.”
“He dresses like one.” Gordo looks me up and down. I barely breathe as his eyes pass over the top button of my shirt.
Don’t flinch.
Don’t shift.
Don’t fidget.
I fix my face in a don’t-fuck-with-me mask, firing it right back at Gordo. His cheeks are pockmarked with acne. I’d guess he’s no more than seventeen — and aching to prove himself a real man. He’d probably shoot me just for the street-cred.
“Where do you shop?” I ask him, smirking. “BabyGAP?”
Jax snorts in amusement.
Gordo slams his fist on the table. The handgun is only inches from his fingertips. “Say that again, asshole. See what happens.”
“Gordo, chill.” Jaxon doesn’t even look at the gangly teen. His focus is on Lopez. The large man has barely spoken, but his lethal expression is communicating his thoughts quite clearly. “He’s my kid brother, all right? He’s here to learn the tricks of the trade.”
“The fuck he is,” Lopez mutters. His eyes cut to me like knives. “We already have a full crew.”
“We can always use another set of hands and you know it,” Jaxon snaps. “Cut him some slack.”
“Cut him some slack? Are you fucking kidding me, Reyes?” Lopez’s voice rises with each word, as does his anger. “We have a full hold to unload before dawn. It’s not the time to stroll in here with a stranger who’ll fuck up our plans.”
“Like I said,” Jax says tightly. “He’s not a stranger.”
“He’s a s-s-stranger to us,” Stutter points out, revealing the source of his nickname. “I’m w-w-with Lopez. I s-s-say we g-g-get rid of him. Now.”
Any warmth Jaxon’s expression once contained is gone in a heartbeat. “I don’t care what you s-s-s-say, Stutter,” he mocks. “I’m in charge here. I make the rules. If I say he stays, he stays.”
Lopez stands with a sudden violence that makes the whole table jump. Cards and chips scatter across the surface. I hope like hell the tiny button-camera is capturing the fact that he’s got a very large gun holstered to his side. “Getting real tired of you pulling rank on me, Reyes. I don’t know whose dick you sucked to get where you are and I don’t give a shit. Far as I’m concerned, we were operating just fine on land before you showed up and dragged our operation out to sea. Now, instead of sitting on my ass in my apartment with my old lady, I spend half my days stuck on this rust bucket in the middle of the goddamn ocean, hurling over the side.”
“Try some Dramamine,” Jaxon suggests snidely. “And save me your whining. This is the job. You don’t like it, then leave. I’ll be happy to tell Philippe you were too chickenshit to handle it.”
Whoever Philippe is clearly has some serious pull, because all three men at the table go slightly pale at just the mention of his name.
“No?” Jaxon asks smugly. “I didn’t think so.”
He seems to think he’s snuffed out the spark of rebellion, but I’m less optimistic. I feel like I’m standing in a room filled with gunpowder, holding a lit match. Lopez is looking at my brother with such unconcealed hatred, I know he’s just itching to wrap those beefy hands around his throat and squeeze. I can’t see either Stutter or Gordo stepping in to stop him.
I wonder if my brother realizes just how tenuous his authority is. How close these guys are to flipping on him. I swallow hard, trying to clear the lump of nerves lodged in my throat. Trying to remember what Stanhope and Pomroy told me, back in the van.
Just hang in there until we get verbal confirmation.
As soon as we have enough evidence, we’ll move in.
How much is enough?
Jaxon mentioned moving product, but only in the loosest of terms. Nothing specific. I doubt ‘Stutter’ and ‘Gordo’ are given names, easily searched in a database of criminals with open arrest warrants. All I really know so far is that there are six men on board and at least as many weapons.
I need more.
Solid confirmation.
Enough to shut this down for good.
“Look, I’m not here to cause problems,” I tell the men, trying to keep my voice level. Every set of eyes flies to my face. It’s hard not to turn and bolt for safety.
“Why are you here, then?” Lopez asks.
“My brother told me this new gig you guys are running is a gold mine.” I shrug. “I want in.”