Chapter 15 #2
“I’m hearing good things about her but let her know that she cannot afford to fuck up this next run…
and I don’t mean the money side of it; I mean with me.
She screws this up, and she’s done… no second chances.
At the same time, let her know that risk comes with reward.
If she delivers, she won’t have to worry about me, but if she doesn’t… ”
He let the silence hang just long enough for me to imagine every possible outcome.
“I’ll be the last face she sees. And trust me, she won’t see me long. Hell, she won’t even have time to be surprised. Make sure you relay that message.”
I shivered, not from fear exactly, but from the way he said it.
Like he meant it… like he’d sleep fine afterward.
Marcos’s jaw flexed, but there was no argument in his tone. “I’ll tell her.”
“Good. Keep her sharp. We’ll talk after.”
The call ended with a beep that felt louder than it should have.
Something about the way Marcos spoke—his tone woven with a blend of respect and familiarity—immediately revealed the identity of the person on the other end, even without a name being mentioned.
Marcos slid his phone into the console and gestured toward the passenger seat. “Get in,” he instructed firmly yet casually.
I slid into the seat and shut the door. “Was that your boss?” I wasted no time asking.
He smirked, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I guess you could say that. He’s also my nigga. But he’s got a boss, too.”
The way he said it, I couldn't help but sense the layers of their relationship—both professional and personal.
My brows knitted together in confusion. “How many bosses are there?”
His answer was short, almost amused. “Enough to know you don’t want to meet the top one unless you have to.”
I filed that away, then caught the scent of something skunky as he reached into the console and pulled out a blunt. He lit it slow, took a drag, then held it toward me.
“You smoke?”
I hastily shook my head.
“Good girl all around, huh?” he replied, nodding as if he respected my choice. He leaned back slightly, exhaling smoke toward the cracked window.
“So… why am I here, Marcos?” I asked, cutting to the chase,
Marcos shifted, turning so I could feel the weight of his attention. “So, you probably caught enough of that to know that your next run won’t be a typical one like your others."
“I caught enough to know your boy is a little intimidating, and he slyly threatened to kill me.”
He let out a soft laugh under his breath, shaking his head. “That’s how he talks on a good day.”
“Well, if that’s a good day, I definitely don’t want to see him on a bad one,” I muttered, my heart racing at the thought. “And if he’s the boss? Yeah… I don’t ever need to meet him. On another note, you could’ve just texted me the details like always.”
Marcos shook his head, a serious expression crossing his face. “He wanted this conversation face-to-face. Which, I’m not gon’ lie, I agree with. Ajori, you’ve been solid these past six weeks, but tomorrow is a whole different game.”
My pulse kicked up, but I kept my expression neutral. “Different how?”
Marcos tapped ash into the tray, eyes still on me, “You’ll be driving ten hours, one way.”
“Whew… ten hours,” I breathed, my eyebrows shooting up with disbelief. The shock slipped out before I could reel it in.
In my head, I ran the calculations. The longest I had ever driven for a run was four hours, and that was only once. Still, it wasn’t the drive I was mostly concerned about; it was Kyrin.
Always Kyrin.
I wasn’t stressed about a sitter either.
Surprisingly, Vanessa had kept her word and had been staying at home more.
She was even more helpful when it came to the bills and Kyrin.
It was as if she were genuinely trying to mend the years of damage she’d caused.
If she couldn't come through, I knew Lainey would step up without hesitation.
“Yeah,” Marcos went on. “You’ll have to pick up from one end of the state and run it across the line without touching a main highway the whole way.”
“Why no highways?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Because state patrols have been extra nosy lately. They’re running stings. You take a main road, you risk a checkpoint. That’s jail time, Ajori, not ‘oops, my bad’ time. You feel me?”
I nodded slowly, my hands tightening on my knees.
“You’ll be driving through back roads,” Marcos continued, “They'll be two rendezvous points for check-ins. The first one is just to confirm you’re on schedule. The second is where they’ll switch the car.”
My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Switch the car?”
“Yup. Remember me mentioning that it would eventually happen? Well… yeah. Tomorrow’s the day.” He shrugged. “You start in one car, finish in another. It keeps the trail cold. The second car will have the package hidden somewhere, even you won’t find it unless you tear the thing apart.”
Great… surprises inside surprises.
“Other than the car exchange,” he went on, “you are not to make any other stops unless the car catches fire or you’re dying.
No calls, no texts, no music loud enough to miss a tail.
Get a good night’s rest, limit what you drink in the morning so you don’t need to stop, and don’t eat anything that’ll put you on the toilet.
If you can, take a good shit before leaving. ”
I squinted at him. “So that was safety protocol survival tips mixed with bowel counseling? Beautiful work... truly. Thanks for the poetry,” I stated, sarcastically.
He smirked.
“So… what’s the payout?” I asked.
Because hello… the important part.
“One-fifty.”
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars?” I blurted out, my voice rising in disbelief.
He chuckled. Yes.”
Then another thought struck me. “So, if this is a new route, I’m assuming this is a new client. Or did one of your other mules get fired?”
Marcos’s mouth curved, but it wasn’t a friendly smile.
“Fired?” He scoffed. “See… no one really gets fired in this line of work. A mule can quit in good standing, sure. But fired?” He tapped the steering wheel lightly.
“If we gotta fire you, you’re not walking away to complain about it.
Getting fired usually means you have already made a mistake big enough to get wiped off the board. It’s like being erased from existence.”
A slow ripple of unease crept through me. “So this guy—this client—is new then?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Brand new. And from what Dom told me, he ain’t exactly the easiest man to please.”
The warning was clear.
I reared my head back. “And you think I can handle him?”
Marcos snorted. “Maybe not him specifically. But that’s the beauty of it—you’re not going there to negotiate or sit down with him. You’re just the mule. You hand over the product. That’s it.”
“Okay… but mules get killed on runs.” My voice dropped, tinged with the reality of the risks involved.
He gave me a look that somehow managed to be annoyed and proud at the same time.
“Ajori, you’ve handled six weeks of drops cleaner than people who’ve been doing this shit for years. Yeah, you got sick and so did your brother… life hit you, but even with that, you haven’t had a single major hiccup.”
I fell silent, not because I doubted his assessment but because hearing someone else acknowledge my grind was different.
He continued, voice lower. “I wouldn’t give you this if I thought you couldn’t handle it.
The only reason I’m stressing the details is because this isn’t local.
Once you cross that line, you’ll be out of my reach if something happens…
although we’ll be watching. We usually put older mules on long-distance runs like this—people who got years under their belt.
But I pushed for you because I think this could be a break for you. So let me know how you’re feeling.”
His fingers drummed once on the door.
I exhaled slowly. “I can handle it,” I assured.
His mouth curved slightly. “I know you can. But say no more. Be ready tomorrow morning at six sharp.”
I gave a short nod. “Got it.” Then exited the car.
As I crossed the lot toward my own car, one thought pressed itself into the center of my mind and refused to budge.
If tomorrow goes right, my whole life changes… and if it goes wrong, my whole life ends.