Jim didn’t stay home long, only frustrating himself in his attempt to find a better way to deal with the Diablos. Instead, he called Boxer and asked him if they could meet at the casino on the reservation. An hour later, they left their bikes at the far end of the giant parking lot and headed toward the opulent entrance of Crosswind Casino.
“Why are we here, Wade?” Boxer asked. He spit a large, black mass onto the sidewalk, and Jim smacked him in the gut.
“Get rid of the chew. It’s disgusting.” Jim threw his cigarette aside. Hypocrite. “We’re talking to Bullseye.”
Boxer’s expression darkened. “Why are we talking to Bullseye? Last time we were here, he threw us out.”
“Last time we were here, Ari was drunk off his ass. That’s why we got tossed,” Jim reminded him. “We’ve got to funnel a ton of money, Boxer. This is the largest business on our payroll. We can probably shove at least a quarter of our bills to Bullseye. I need to make sure he’s on board.”
“You’re also looking for more guns, aren’t you?”
The question made Jim scowl. “I thought about it. We’re screwed right now, man. We can’t get our hands on anything the Diamondbacks can provide until we’ve already tamed the beast. The Diablos need a loss, so they’ll stay out of our way until we can get ourselves armed. That means we need to do whatever we can to protect ourselves.”
The tribe didn’t carry a ton of firepower, but they had enough to supplement the Talons’ arms temporarily. He could offer a nice little trade – upping the percent of the tribe’s take from the business in exchange for some weapons. He hadn’t asked Ari, and that would eventually come back to bite him in the ass, but it was the best choice for the club at this moment.
After this, he’d hit Big Mountain Pawn and talk to Roger, the owner. They could work with him to get some of the guns on hand loaned to them for a one-time fee, he was certain. Roger was a savvy businessman, always looking for a good deal. If he could grab an extra ten grand and still sell his guns, he’d be more than happy to help.
Jim waved at the door guard as they entered, and the man with long black hair pulled into a loose braid and a suit nodded solemnly. They didn’t stop as they strode past lines of bright, blinking, chiming machines, and Jim thanked the powers that be for the smoking policies as he lit another cigarette. They went straight to the back, where the beautiful Creek Walker ran the bar. He smiled at her, feeling out of character in her company; her skin was flawless, her shining black hair twisted up.
“Wade! I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her eyes twinkled. She’d been there when Ari was carried out by two large guards and the rest of them were forced to follow. “How have things been?”
“Well, business is booming, and we’re on the edge of a killing. But I need to talk to Bullseye about some things. Is he around?” He raised the bottle of Bud she passed to him and tossed a ten her way.
“I’m not so sure he wants to see you, Wade.” She winked at Boxer. “You, though, can stay as long as you like.”
Boxer blushed, and Jim rolled his eyes. “Come on, Creek. Tell him what time to pick you up tonight, and get me Bullseye.”
She laughed, deep and seductive, and looked Boxer up and down. “Well, big man, if you want, you can come get me at about eight, and I’ll keep you company while Bullseye goes on the rampage for my betrayal.”
Boxer smiled sheepishly. “I just might do that.”
Creek sighed happily. “Alright, Wade, follow me. You, too, Boxer.” She came around the bar and led them through a door labeled ‘Employees Only’. They walked down a dimly lit hall toward an office at the end. The door was closed, and Creek knocked lightly. “Visitors, Chief.”
A grunt came from inside, and Creek backed away. “Good luck, boys. And I’ll see you tonight, Boxer,” she added, smacking his ass as she walked away.
Jim turned the doorknob while Boxer stared after her. “Don’t mention her sweet ass, okay?” he whispered and pushed the door open. He immediately made eye contact with Bullseye, who sat behind a large oak desk with his blue-black hair spread around his shoulders. “Hello, Chief.”
“Jim Wade and Phineas Tyler. What brings the two of you to my office?” His tone was gentle and curious. He didn’t move.
Boxer remained standing, gritting his teeth at the sound of his real name, but Jim took a seat with a friendly grin. “I wanted to talk business with you for a minute, without the alcohol and attitude you encountered the last time we met.”
He grunted again. “Your chief has anger management issues, my friend. I appreciate your consideration in leaving him in his cage.”
Boxer snorted, and Jim shook his head. If only we had a cage for him. “You deserve the respect.” He sat back and made himself comfortable. This wouldn’t be a thirty-second discussion. “We’ve managed to buy into some better business. We’ll be getting a bigger infusion of cash, in smaller bills, and you can’t tell the difference between these and government-issued cash.”
“I see.” Chief Bullseye was a man of few words, until he knew exactly what was being discussed. Jim didn’t mind—it made his job easier.
“The problem is, our printer who has the stamps is in enemy territory, and our rivals are not very happy with our extension of business into their area. They’re a threat to our club and our business, which also poses a threat to your flow of income. I thought we could work out a few details that would keep all of our investments safe.”
The chief nodded, a sign to go on. “I’d like to offer you a raise,” Jim said. “Right now, your take is five percent of about $200,000 a month. I’d like to make that $500,000 a month and increase your take to eight percent.”
Bullseye pressed his hands together in a steeple in front of his face. “That is quite a large increase, my friend. Our public monthly income can more than compensate the amount. But it would be a big risk.”
“It would,” Jim agreed. “It would be a bigger risk if the Diablos decided to come after our business associates to try to put a stop to our profits.”
“You ask for more than laundering.”
“We need weapons,” Jim admitted. “The Diablos Blancos are going to try to hit us on home turf, and we don’t have the men or the guns to hold them off until we can get better equipped. I’ll double your take for the first month, if we can make use of a few of your men and some firearms.”
The chief grew silent, and for a minute, Jim thought he could hear all three heartbeats in the room. “This is a precarious situation you put me in, Jim Wade. We don’t like getting involved with the white man’s personal business. Money is one thing. War is another. But you make a point about protecting our business. It is also difficult to deny the benefits of the additional income you offer.”
At least he hadn’t shut Jim down right off the bat. Jim waited while Bullseye stared at some distant spot behind Boxer’s shoulder. This would make a huge difference in their ability to face the Diablos and not take too big a hit. After thinking for a long time, the chief met his gaze with his black marble eyes.
“Jim Wade, I will accept your business prospect. And in order to assure my people are safe and the business you bring are not compromised, I will send eight of my men with weapons to your clubhouse tonight. They will stay until these personal issues are resolved, but no longer than one week. They have families, and I do not wish for them to be gone long.”
A wave of relief washed over Jim. It was no guarantee that someone wouldn’t die, but he knew Bullseye would only send men who were excellent shots, more snipers than soldiers. “I’m grateful for your assistance.” Jim stood and offered the chief a bow of respect and thanks, and he saw Boxer’s shadow move as he did the same. “I’ll make sure your men are as safe as possible, and we’ll keep them fed and well cared for until their return.”
He turned to leave the room. “Jim Wade?” Bullseye called. Jim stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned in question. “Do not drag innocent people into your war. But take care of yourself and those who keep you balanced.”
The words hit him in the chest with the force of a bullet, and Jim inhaled sharply. “Yes, sir.” He hurried out of the office, uncomfortable with the chief’s insight.
“What was that about?” Boxer asked, having to rush to keep up with Jim, even with his long stride.
“I don’t know,” Jim answered. His voice was sharp, his mood dark. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Ari’s going to have something to say about this.” Boxer reached into his pocket as they burst back into the daylight and pulled out a hunk of chew. “I’m assuming you didn’t clear this with him.”
Jim used the end of his lit cigarette to fire up another. “He didn’t exactly clear offering us up as sacrifices with the rest of the club, either. If he’s so damned determined to take the Diablos out, he can deal with the cost involved. It’s pennies in the bucket, compared to what we’ll bring in.”
They made it to the bikes, and Jim mounted his, with Boxer standing beside him with a confused expression. “The printer doesn’t have all the stamps.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s got a couple of them.” Jim had known from the start that they were going about this all wrong. “He’s got to have an overseas contact. We find out who that is and cut out the middleman, we’ll make more and curb this thing with the Devils.”
Boxer finally climbed onto his machine. “And how are we going to do that?”
Jim wasn’t sure yet. “I’ll find a way.”