“Enjoy.”
They took the cart and left, closing the door after them. I took a moment to savor the soup, noting that Flynn wasn’t eating. Neither was Colt.
Barrett caught my eye and winked. I smiled at her.
“So,” Flynn began. “Should we get down to it?”
“Yeah,” Colt agreed.
Flynn’s eyes slid to mine and then back to Colt. “Do you want to have this conversation in front of her?”
“Mia’s got my ink,” Colt explained. He gestured with his chin to Barrett. “You have your wife sit in on meetings.”
“I’ve come to appreciate her council,” Flynn said, his brogue thick.
Barrett rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“This shit involves Mia. I told you some of it on the phone.”
“Aye.” Flynn nodded. “Go on.”
“I’ve got a big fucking problem.”
“Big, like you need an influx of illegal arms to fight someone, or big like you need someone to disappear?” Flynn asked.
“Big, like there’s a cartel in Waco’s backyard big.”
“Which cartel?” Flynn asked, his tone blasé like he was discussing the weather.
“Garcia.”
I shot a look to Colt but held my tongue.
“Why is the Garcia cartel a problem for you?” Flynn asked.
“Mia’s former boss stole a shitload of coke from the Iron Horsemen. Their president cut a deal with the Garcia cartel to act as drug mules and move the product through Waco. The best we can figure right now is that Richie wanted Dev gone so he stole from the cartel, hoping they’d kill Dev and his problems would be over. That didn’t pan out, and Richie wound up dead. Now we’ve got a shitload of coke to deal with that belongs to the Garcia cartel and one very pissed off club president who knows if he doesn’t get it back he’s going to die. Dev we can deal with, but the cartel? That’s why we’re here.”
“And how did Mia get involved if it was her boss who did the stealing?” Flynn asked.
“The last time Mia saw Richie, she was taking him to the bus depot to get out of town. They stopped at a storage unit. Richie dropped the key in her truck to the storage unit, which is full of the product he stole. We found it a few days ago. I don’t want my boys moving it.”
“You want me to move it.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
“Yes.”
“I don’t get involved in cartel business,” Flynn said.
“Right,” Colt drawled. “You don’t.” His gaze shot to Barrett.
They were speaking in riddles and I wasn’t privy to the code.
Colt leaned back in his chair, feigning ease I knew he didn’t feel. His body was taut and lined with tension.
Barrett looked at her husband. “What do you think?”
“I think he’ll want something.”
Barrett smirked. “No doubt.” She sobered. “Are you okay with this?”