Free Leather and Sand (Riding the Line Series) by Jayna Vixen Page A

Lord knew there had been a few women who may have deserved a heavy hand. Wince mentally reviewed the list of stalkers who had slapped Dax, broken his stuff, and generally went crazy when they didn’t get what they wanted. Wince glanced sidelong at Dax. No, he wouldn’t have lifted a hand against Rhiannon. His eyes went back to Dax’s bruised knuckles.
    “She had a problem. I fixed it.” His voice was stoic, revealing nothing but the barest of facts.
    Wince stiffened. “How is she?”
    Memories of Rhiannon, her long reddish-brown hair and those sparkling green eyes flooded Wince’s brain. She had been his friend. One of his best friends. Then, he misread their relationship and crossed the line. Even after that embarrassing display, he had felt a special connection to the stowaway. Rhee was special—a collection of conflicting traits that made her all the more attractive. She was open but guarded, strong but fragile, with hints of steel glistening beneath her satiny smooth exterior. One of those rare beauties who didn’t seem to realize how precious she was. After the debacle that had nearly gotten her killed, Wince’s initial crush had deepened and transformed into something he could only assume was a kind of brotherly love. He thought Rhee felt the same. Until she abandoned them all.
    Dax finally made eye contact with him finally as they pulled up to a popular eatery.
    “Man, I have no idea how to answer that question.”
    ***
    “So, you want to use my shipping containers to move your guns?” Vance Vidal wiped the corner of his mouth with a thick, monogrammed napkin and tossed it on the floor carelessly.
    Dax nodded, fighting to keep the grimace off of his face. Vidal rubbed him the wrong way. In every way. He was even more arrogant than Dax had expected, if that was possible. It was difficult to focus but Dax knew he had to secure the line, even if it meant dealing with a dipshit like the one who sat across from him, shoveling caviar into his face. Just a few shipments of Russian guns into the Port of Los Angeles would yield so much cash that Dax could almost imagine a completely different life.
    The shipping containers were crucial to their plan. Both the Mexican and the Asian crews wanted more guns. Turf wars were taking a toll and whoever made the biggest bang ruled the streets. This firepower was new—something really special. Knowing Hawk, he would instigate a bidding war between the two factions. It was a little suspect that Hawk would go for such a big change this late in his career, but maybe his president wanted what Dax himself was wondering if he too craved: freedom.
    “It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Dax assured coolly.
    “How beneficial?” Vidal took a sip of champagne.
    Dax regarded the man sitting across from him. Vidal was one entitled bastard. Hawk helped the man’s father by funding his shipping venture after they fought alongside one another in Nam. Hawk explained his gesture of goodwill only by stating cryptically, “one good turn deserves another.”
    According to Vidal, his father was incapacitated, ravaged by cancer and dementia. It became quickly apparent that although Vance Vidal was the decision-maker now, he wasn’t exactly his father’s apprentice. In fact, Vidal’s head of security seemed a hell of a lot more competent than the flashy, arrogant son of a bitch who sat across the table, all but gloating about his wealth and power.
    “We’d split the weapons take. Eighty-twenty. All you have to do is look the other way, like you’re already doing with the Natives’ weed.”
    Vidal let out a disdainful snort. “Come on, I’m taking all the risk.”
    “ We’re taking all the risk once the guns get into the port,” Dax corrected smoothly. “There’s practically no heat on the water. Once the container arrives, your liability ceases. We have an inside line with one of the ship gangs in the L.A. port. They’ll unload directly into our trucks. It’s