Free Ashby Holler by Jamie Zakian

closet?”
    Sasha stopped short. Her glare iced over as she spun to face Vinny. “Shut the fuck up.” Turning, she hurried from her own bitchy vibe clinging to the air and toward the line of semis.
    “Hey, Vince,” Dez called out from beside a green Peterbilt. “Gimme a lift to Jack’s bar.”
    “No,” Sasha said. “Don’t get him involved.”
    “What the fuck, Sasha?” Vinny sneered.
    There was no reason for her to treat Vinny this way, aside from the fact that he wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone about this sergeant bullshit. Her remorse-filled eyes shifted to Vinny, but he veered from her gaze.
    “This way,” Dez said, stepping next to Vinny, “you can take the rig and hit the road straight from the bar. My little brother can give me a ride back, after a few drinks.”
    “Whatever.” Sasha opened the truck’s door, tossed the bag into the cab, and climbed inside.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    Five hours of open road and Sasha still couldn’t shake those Archer brothers from her head. Her stomach churned when she left the bar after seeing them laughing and drinking together. If they found out about each other, everyone would hate everyone. A regular old cluster fuck, her specialty.
    It wasn’t until her client’s massive warehouse rolled into view that her brain unscrambled. Little Rock, home tuff of the Los Lobos, probably the sketchiest, deadliest, and biggest buyers on the roster. This drop-off definitely warranted a sturdy game face and sharp mind.
    Sasha drove through the wide bay door of the only structure untouched by graffiti on the block and killed the engine. The bay door slammed shut, and florescent lights blinked on. Her hand froze on the door’s handle, gaze locked on the beautiful woman strolling toward her truck. She stared through the windshield, watching long legs prance, a tiny waist sway, and feathery black hair bounce.
    “That is not Miguel,” Sasha muttered, opening her door.
    When her boots hit concrete, a swarm of men surrounded her. Rifles greeted her chest, bullets loaded into their chambers, and her hand inched toward the butt of her handgun.
    “What’s up?” Sasha said, unsnapping the button of her holster.
    “That’s enough. Ease off,” a silky voice said along with a train of obscene words in Spanish.
    Men backed away, their guns lowering as the woman strolled closer. The gray fabric of her dress hugged every curve, from chest to thighs.
    “I’m Carmen, Miguel’s daughter.”
    “Oh shit, Carmelita ,” Sasha said, shoving back a grin. “He talks about you all the time.”
    “And you must be the infamous Sasha Ashby.” Carmen pointed to the truck, and men shuffled to unload the cargo. With just a flick of her wrist, a briefcase flew forward.
    “Infamous, huh?” Sasha took the case, chucking it into the cab. “I don’t know about all that.”
    Heels clanked as Carmen sashayed to Sasha’s side. “You have no idea. People see what you do, how you carry yourself. More and more women are being accepted within the ranks of the underworld, the right women.”
    The last crate of drug-stuffed teddy bears was carried from Sasha’s trailer, joining the pile that now overflowed a corner of the warehouse. Sasha leaned against the front bumper of her truck, the entire rig shaking as its trailer door slammed shut. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”
    Carmen waved her arm, and everyone cleared the warehouse, leaving them alone in the cavernous room.
    “I think,” Carmen stepped closer to Sasha, a coy smile lifting her cheeks, “we have a lot in common.”
    Sasha stood up straight, leaning toward the luscious body that drifted just within her grasp. “Is that so?”
    A knee slid between Sasha’s legs, warm breath flooding over her neck.
    “ Si, mamacita, except I’ve never been inside a Mack truck.”
    Creamy brown skin ensnared Sasha’s gaze, and all by themselves, her hands gripped Carmen’s firm hips. “I think I can do