Page 45 of Truck Up

He studies me for a moment with furrowed brows. I rarely ask for jobs. It’s usually the other way around, with him begging me for my help. “Nothing that meets your criteria.”

“Fuck my criteria. I need to keep busy. Anything will do.”

“The bikes you’re building for us aren’t keeping you busy enough? What are we up to now? Three or four?”

“Four, but I need something to get me out of town.” I’m struggling to keep my frustration in check. I hate being questioned even by someone as powerful as Edge. As president of the largest motorcycle club in Ohio, he might even be more powerful than Charlie Fisher and his family. Politics rule, but nothing rules quite like those living on the fringes of society and completely outside the reach of the law.

He must not like the look on my face because he shakes his head. “Maybe you should focus on the bikes.”

“Not good enough.” I crack my neck before taking a sip of my whiskey. “I need more. Something to keep me moving. I need to get out of town for a few days.”

Edge lets out a deep sigh as he continues to study me. He’s silent for several minutes as he holds my stare. This is nothing new. He often operates like this, especially with potential prospects. It’s a strategy of his to determine just how serious they are about joining the MC.

It’s been a while since he’s studied me this closely. I may not be a member of the club, but I’ve been working with him for several years now. He recruited me when I was still using, and then he helped me get clean.

“Alright,” he finally says. “I could use a man like you on a job, but it requires travel.”

“How much travel?”

“Out of state.”

I nod. It’s not ideal, but it would certainly get me out of here. “Alright.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to travel?” he asks. “You’ve always said local jobs only.”

I shrug. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’ll probably be gone for at least a week. Maybe longer. You sure you’re up for that?”

I think about that for a moment. I’ve never been gone more than a couple of days at a time. A week or more might be too long, but I need to get out of here. If this is all he has, then I have to take it.

“Can I ask where I’d be going?”

“Montana.”

I let out a low whistle. Montana is not a quick trip and much farther than I recall any of his business dealings taking anyone. But I need it. “Yeah, I’m up for it. When can I leave?”

He digs his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk. He tosses me a large manila envelope and a set of keys. “You can leave now. Everything you need to know is in that envelope. The keys are to the black SUV parked next to the shed out back.”

“Okay.” I slap the envelope against my leg and stand. “Same check in protocol as always.”

“Yep, everything is the same. Make sure no one sees you putting your bike in the shed.”

“Of course.” I turn to leave, but he calls out before I reach the door.

“And Christian, there are four packages in this run. Big deal, so don’t screw it up.”

“Have I ever let you down?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “No, I guess not. But we’ve also never dealt with anything quite like this one, so heed caution.”

I hold his stare for a moment longer before I nod. Then I head out of his office without another word. He’s never acted like this over a job before, so it must be a big deal. Whatever it is. I can handle it.

I just need to get out of here before the entire town starts talking about how I ruined Amelia Koch.

Chapter 9

So this is what disappointment feels like.