Chapter 13 #2
Yeah, I had my little hmm… this feel illegal moments.
Of course I didn’t think I was delivering Girl Scout cookies to a different state.
But hearing it out loud, from somebody I wasn’t even supposed to be having so much as a three-sentence conversation with made it real enough to punch the air out of my lungs.
Girl, you thought you was hustling; whole time you’ve been auditioning for jail.
I steadied myself, refusing to let my expressions betray my shock.
“Damn, you fine though. They don’t usually send pretty ones… not this pretty, at least.”
His eyes lingered on my mouth before slowly tracing back to my eyes.
“What’s yo’ name?”
I recalled Marcos’s exact warning, echoing in my mind.
No personal conversations.
Keeping my response clipped, I replied coolly, “That information isn’t relevant.”
He reared his head back, a bit stunned. “Oh, you one of those. Got a little attitude on you, huh?”
“Are we finished here?” I asked, my tone flat.
The guy scoffed, before he quickly masked it with a chuckle. “Damn. Straight to business. Aight. Bet.”
He lifted a hand and nodded to one of his guys.
A tall dude walked to the back of the car, popped the trunk, and pulled out the duffel Drico had loaded earlier. He unzipped it, peered inside, ran a quick inspection of the neatly-packed contents, and then closed it again with a firm tug.
“All good,” he called out. “Everything’s here.”
The “flirt”, leaning against the car with a relaxed posture, smirked at me again. “You’re good to go… although I hate to see you leave,” he admitted, cocking his head slightly, a teasing gleam in his eyes.
“Cool,” I said, putting the car in reverse, preparing to leave.
He frowned slightly, a furrow forming between his brows. “That’s all you got to say?”
I met his gaze directly, unblinking. “It’s all that needs saying, right?” Something in my tone seemed to strike a chord. His mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but was fighting it back.
“My name is Dino. I’ll see you around… maybe.” He winked.
I didn’t respond; I just drove off.
My thoughts shifted to texting Marcos to let him know it was done, but I decided it would be better to see him in person. I needed to tell him—face to face—that I had just transported drugs and learned about it from a random stranger rather than him.
When I pulled into the warehouse lot, it was quiet.
There were no voices, no movement, only the low hum of the wind against the buildings.
I cut the engine and sat still for a moment, listening intently.
Trusting my instincts, I reached over, popped open the glove compartment, and wrapped my fingers around the gun case.
I didn’t take the gun out, but I unzipped it enough to grab it fast if I needed to.
Just the touch of it sent a twist of unease through my stomach, yet I knew that being prepared was better than relying solely on prayers.
With a deep breath, I cracked the driver’s door open… and, at that exact moment, the passenger door swung open as well.
Reflex kicked in.
My hand dove for the gun, and I swung it toward the figure sliding into the seat beside me.
Marcos dropped into the passenger side, calm as hell, not even blinking at the barrel pointed at him.
“You really trying to get shot today?” I asked, not lowering the gun.
Marcos’s mouth curved slightly, not into a smile, but more a recognition of my readiness.
“Easy, Ajori. It’s just me,” he murmured, closing the door with a soft click. “If I wanted to scare you, I’d do more than open a damn door.”
Marcos cast a glance at the gun, then back at me, his expression unreadable.
“Good to see you’re quick on the draw, though. That was a test run. You checked the lot, armed yourself, and stayed alert.” He nodded in approval. “Good. You’re learning.”
I kept my eyes locked on him for a beat before lowering the gun and placing it back in the case, the tension easing slightly.
“You could’ve just texted me ‘good job,’ you know.”
He chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, feeling a simmering frustration. “I’ll have you know that I didn’t appreciate finding out from some random dude at the drop that I was transporting drugs.”
His jaw tensed.
“He straight-up called me a mule!” I exclaimed, my voice rising. “Dope, though, Marcos?! And you didn’t think that was important to mention before you sent me out there?”
“Would it have made a difference?” he shot back, his calm demeanor grating on my nerves. “Knowing what you were transporting… would that have stopped you from getting your money? That’s the real question.”
My mouth dropped open, then snapped shut.
Marcos wasn’t entirely wrong, and it infuriated me a bit.
“You suspected it,” he continued. “Don’t act like you didn’t.
You seem too smart for that. And yet, you still got in the car, still drove, and followed every instruction to the letter.
If you suspected drugs and you still ran it?
” He lifted a brow. “Then you proved you’re capable of being a mule…
even when you’re nervous… even when you don’t have all the details. "
His tone softened, but not by much, maintaining a hint of authority.
“Look, I get why you’re upset… kinda. But you weren’t supposed to know… yet. That nigga overstepped big time. But he’ll be handled. No worries there.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I’m not saying it does. But Ajori, in this business, there’s a lot of shit that’s on a need-to-know basis until you prove you can handle it.
Trust is earned… on both sides. If I’d told you outright, you might’ve overthought it, panicked, maybe even second-guessed yourself.
So yeah, you didn’t like how you found out…
and I can respect that. But don’t pretend you didn’t already know what world you were stepping into. ”
I exhaled hard through my nose and briefly looked away, then snapped back. “Well, now I know. Still, it would’ve been nice to hear it from you instead of some guy flirting with me like I was in line for a club wristband.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he commented quietly.
I stiffened, my fists tightening. “Used to what? Being kept in the dark? Getting blindsided at gun-filled drop-offs?”
“To the pace,” he corrected. “To how fast things move… how little warning you get. It’s not personal, Ajori; it’s survival. And I needed to make sure you didn’t panic under pressure.”
“I didn’t panic.”
“No, you didn’t,” he agreed, eyes scanning my face, almost impressed. “And that’s why this conversation is even happening.”
Silence stretched for a second.
Then he added, softer, “I’ll keep you more informed moving forward… not on everything, but more.”
I took a breath, grounding myself. “Good. Because if I’m doing this, I need transparency—no half-truths or hidden agendas.”
“And you’ll get what you earn… starting now,” Marcos replied, his tone assuring but his eyes betraying a hint of guardedness.
“Promise?”
Marcos half-smiled—the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes but still counted. “Ajori, don’t make me start lying to you this early. But yeah… I’ll try.”
I shook my head in disbelief, muttering under my breath, “Una mula… una maldita mula. Esto va en contra de todo lo que creo!”
(A mule… a fuckin’ mule! This goes against everything I believe in!)
Marcos’s head snapped slightly in my direction, eyes narrowing just a bit.
He commented in Spanish without missing a beat, “Bienvenida al mundo real. Aquí nadie hace solo lo que cree.”
(Welcome to the real world. Out here, nobody gets to only do what they believe in.)
“I didn’t know you knew Spanish,” he added, almost accusingly, but definitely impressed.
I folded my arms, heat still buzzing in my chest. “And I didn’t know you were keeping half the truth from me until a stranger spelled it out.”
He blinked, then let out a breath that sounded a little like a laugh. “So that’s how we doing it? Both fluent? Both keeping secrets?”
“Seems fair,” I shot back, momentarily pleased by our verbal sparring.
Marcos stared at me in that same, quiet, evaluating look from the night in the Uber, as if the Spanish had unveiled some hidden facet of my character that had previously gone unnoticed. He seemed to want to delve deeper into who I was.
“Alright,” he finally said. “Good to know you’re not as easy to read as you look.”
“And it’s good to know that you’re not as smooth as you think,” I countered.
His mouth twitched, grudging respect cracking through the annoyance. “Yeah, this might just be the perfect job for you.”
I hunched my shoulders. “Maybe. But question. If they got the product, where’s the money? Shouldn’t they have paid something? Given me something? Don’t people usually exchange—”
Marcos raised a hand, cutting me off gently to clarify. “You and a few other mules handle the product, and another crew handles the money. Different lanes… different people.”
I blinked, struggling to comprehend. “Why not do it all at once?”
Marcos smirked, as if he’d anticipated the question.
“Because that’s how people get robbed, killed, or set up.
We never mix the two. You? You only touch the cargo.
The money moves through a separate pickup team.
Someone else picks up the payment, counts it, and transports it.
It could be hours later… maybe the next day…
maybe it already moved before you even left the warehouse.
We keep everything compartmentalized. If something goes wrong in one lane, the other one stays clean. ”
It actually made sense… perhaps too much sense for my comfort.
Marcos watched my face, amused. “Don’t worry. You’ll get paid for your runs, but not by them, always by us.”
I let out a slow, measured breath and nodded. “Okay. Got it.”
“Good. Now you’re learning how we operate.”
Marcos reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a gold foil package; its dimensions reminiscent of a hardcover book, sealed tight with a band of tape.
“Your pay.”
I took it, feeling the solid weight resting in my palm, a physical reminder of my entanglement in this dangerous game. It wasn’t two hundred thousand, but it was proof that what Marcos promised was real.
“It’s all there. But open it when you get home.”
I slid the package into my tote, feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement.
“Good work today, though. Smooth, no questions, no delays. That’s exactly how we like it.”
Marcos opened the door and stepped out as if he’d just caught a ride to the corner store.
“See you tomorrow.”
Once he shut the door, I started the engine and pulled out of the lot and headed to Lainey’s.
I parked outside her spot and stared at my phone for a full minute before texting her.
Me: I’m outside of your house. You up? I need to vent.
Lainey: Come on, friend.
When I stepped in, she was already in the kitchen, pouring wine into two mismatched glasses.
“You alright?” she asked.
I sat on the couch, body heavy. “I found out what I’ll be transporting.”
“Please say something normal like clothes or shoes.”
“Worse,” I muttered.
Lainey’s brows shot up. “Girl, don’t tell me you’re out here running organs or something.”
“It’s drugs,” I divulged.
She blinked… then blinked again. “Drugs? Like weed?”
I cocked my head. “Yeah, Lainey… because obviously people risk their lives for a couple of blunts,” I stated sarcastically.
“Okay…” she said slowly. “So not weed.”
“Not even close. Try bricks.”
Her mouth formed a perfect “O” before she burst out laughing. “Wow. My girl is a whole mule out here. Look at you—fast and furious with a side of felony. You couldn’t ease into crime? You just jumped straight to level ten.”
I gave her the driest look in the world. “This isn’t funny.”
“I mean… it’s a little funny,” she teased, handing me the glass.
“I’m serious, Lainey. I don’t even suppose to be telling you this.”
She hastily hopped up. “Then why are you?!”
“Just in case something goes left, I need somebody alive to tell my secret. I’m not going out like a mystery.”
Lainey threw her hands up. “And that person had to be me?!”
“Yeah. If I disappear, you gotta be like, ‘Yeah, she told me something was off.’”
“Oh, no! You’re not about to turn me into evidence!”
“Too late! I’ve already appointed you as my elected storyteller.”
“I don’t want that job! Matter of fact, when did I apply?!”
I chuckled. “Well, you got it! And you became qualified when you became my best friend.”
Lainey’s eyes grew wider in size. “Qualified?! Girl, this not no job; this a liability!”
She pointed at me.
“And for the record, if you disappear, I’m not saying nothing but, ‘I don’t know her like that.’ I’m protecting me first!”
I reared my head back in astonishment. “Oh, so now you don’t know me. After everything I’ve done for you.”
Lainey pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Okay, okay! Don’t start! You know I’m just playing.”
She retook her seat and nudged my knee.
“You could never get rid of me that easy. I’d be the first one knocking on doors, asking questions, probably getting on somebody’s nerves.”
Lainey dropped the playful tone.
“But let’s not make that a real scenario, alright? I don’t like how this conversation sounding. On a serious note, are you okay?”
I nodded slowly. “I think so. I panicked for a second, but I need this money, Lainey. Kyrin needs this surgery. I can’t quit now.”
“You sure this is safe? These people—whoever they are—they sound dangerous.”
“They are.”
“Well, friend, all I can tell you is, don’t get curious, don’t get comfortable, and don’t start acting like you’re in a movie. You are not the police, CSI, or Scooby-Doo. And this is not your main character moment; this is your ‘stay alive and go home’ era.””
“You’re telling me that like it’s a plan, but it sounds more like a prayer,” I said.
“Because it is a prayer. I’m over here adding your name to my nightly list like, ‘Lord, cover my best friend… and whatever she got in that trunk.’”
I laughed, but it faded just as quickly.
Lainey lifted her wine glass. “Let’s toast to getting in and getting out. No extra drama, no headlines, no documentaries.”
I gave a small smile.
“For real, Jo… don’t let this job swallow you. You’re doing what you gotta do, boo, and I respect that, but I need you to come out the other side in one piece.”
“I will,” I promised, then clinked her glass.
But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer I could keep playing dumb before shit got real.