"Perhaps." Daggit opened the refrigerator, scanned the inside, and helped himself to one of the beers.
Atticus wished that for once a deal could go down without all the coy double talk. He supposed it would make life too simple. "We're not buying 'perhaps' here. Do you have the shit or not?"
Ru gave Atticus a look that said, What am I missing?
Daggit had found Ukiah's mice and crouched to stare into the plastic cage. The black mice lined up to stare back.
"What's up with the mice? They look like Pack . . ." Daggit reached out a hand for the cage, but froze when Ukiah growled.
"Don't touch my mice, Daggit," Ukiah said through clenched teeth.
Daggit grunted, abandoning the mice to study the Dog Warrior. "What do we have here? You don't look like you've got bite behind that growl."
On the other side of the room, providing cover for Ru, Atticus was in the wrong place to stop Daggit as he made a grab for Ukiah.
"Don't touch me!" Ukiah snarled, jerking back out of reach with surprising speed, but at a cost. Atticus felt the pain that flashed through his brother as one of the fragile knits splintered. "You've got Invisible Red on you!"
"I have what?" Daggit glanced at his hand, puzzled.
"Blissfire. Drugs."
Daggit twisted open his beer, frowning at Ukiah. "How do you know that?"
"I can smell it." Ukiah growled, hunching against the pain. "It's all over your skin and clothes."
"No, you can't." Daggit shook his head, took a sip, and explained: "It doesn't have a smell or a color. You can't see it."
"You can't," Ukiah said. "Pack can."
Daggit cocked his head. "Who are you?"
"I'm the Pack's Cub," Ukiah said.
"Aaaaah." Daggit's interest sharpened. "So you're the Cub. Man of mystery. We've heard that you existed but not much more; the Pack won't say squat about you. What are you doing here?"
"I'm eating breakfast." Ukiah tore another mouthful of meat off of the steak and made a show of chewing.
Well, that killed any doubt that Ukiah was one of the Dog Warriors.
Daggit flicked his gaze to Atticus and back. "I didn't know that Pack took brothers."
"We're a special case," Ukiah growled.
Daggit worked his jaw as if it were connected to a massive gear that needed to be turned in order for him to think. "This doesn't feel right. You"—he waggled a finger at Ukiah—"I can buy without a doubt. You've got that wolf feel. Him." Daggit pointed to Atticus. "He's Pack. But this one"—the massive finger settled in Ru's direction—"he's all wrong."
"He's not Pack," Ukiah said before either Ru or Atticus could claim otherwise .
"So who is he?" Daggit asked. "What's he doing here with two Pack dogs?"
"That's Pack business," Ukiah growled softly.
Atticus wondered why Daggit and Ukiah included him as part of the outlaw club. Pack knows Pack.Did that mean that the rest of the members were somehow like him? But how would Daggit know, since he wasn't Pack?
"You come to our turf and set up a buy," Daggit was saying, and Atticus struggled to keep his attention on the leader of the Iron Horses. "You make it our business."
Daggit got only "the look" as an answer from Ukiah.
The biker jerked his head in the direction of the mouse cage. "Show me that you're really Pack."
"No," Ukiah grunted around a mouthful of steak.
"Shit has gone down, and there are Iron Horses dead," Daggit said. "I'm not going to jump through hoops until I know that I can trust the people I'm dealing with."
"Fine. Don't deal," Ukiah said.
Daggit pulled out his pistol and put it to Ukiah's head. "I said show me!"
Triggered by Daggit, the other six bikers pulled guns and leveled them at Atticus and Ru.
"Just take it easy." Atticus kept his hands carefully clear from his gun but shifted sideways, screening Ru.
Ukiah stilled, eyeing Daggit, then glanced to Atticus protecting Ru. "Okay." He broke the silence. "You, Rebar, Animal, Draconis, and Smithy—I know can be trusted. The other three—I've never heard of them; they don't get to see. Get them out."
Daggit lowered his gun. "You heard him. Out."
Licking his fingers, Ukiah stood up, shrugging off the blanket. Half-naked, his borrowed sweatpants threatening to slide down off his slim hips, his torso a patchwork of bruises and bandages, dwarfed by Daggit, Ukiah suddenly seemed battered and vulnerable. A fear for his brother took root in Atticus, yet there was nothing he could do but watch as Ukiah limped around the island to the desk, Daggit looming over him. The mice sensed Ukiah's intent and fought for his attention, all wanting back, to be a part of him again. He opened the lid and plucked one out. A second slipped out. "Nah, nah, back in," Ukiah said gently. "I'll get you later."
The unwanted mouse scurried back into the cage.
The mouse in Ukiah's hand shivered with anticipation, a tiny spark of joy.
Ukiah covered it lightly, screening the true process. The spark faded, lost in the larger presence of his brother. After a moment, Ukiah opened up his hands, showing they were empty. "There. I won't do any more tricks for you."
"Looks like someone had you playing dead." Animal smirked, indicating the bandages.
Ukiah snarled silently in response, like the defiance of a wounded dog.
"Are we still dealing here?" Ru struggled to pull the conversation back on track.
"We're dealing," Daggit said. "How much do you want?"
"A hundred grand, to start," Ru said.
With a large buy, they'd learn better how close the bikers were to the source of the drug; the rest of the quarter million would be held in reserve for follow-up buys.
"A nice even number," Daggit said, without indication that it would be a problem to fill. Then what Lasker reported was true—the bikers had ties to the manufacturer.
"Do you have it?" Ru pressed for an answer.
"Not on us," Daggit said.
Atticus and Ru glanced at each other and came to a silent agreement on how to proceed.
"What is this bullshit?" Ru said. "Time is money. Are we supposed to sit around with our thumbs up our butts without so much as a sample?"
"A sample we can provide." Daggit reached into his back pocket and slipped out a thumb-sized self-sealing plastic bag. "This is a nickel bag." He held it up to glitter in the weak sun.
"It's empty," Ru said.
Atticus shook his head. "There's something in it."
"It's invisible." Daggit tented open the bag. "Well, except to Pack. It has no smell. No taste. You can barely feel it."
Daggit stepped forward, offering to pour it out into Ru's palm. Ru raised his hand to accept it, but Ukiah moved—fluid motion at fast-forward speed—to suddenly be standing beside them, Ru's hand trapped in his own. A growl so low it was nearly subsonic came from his brother.
" If you love Ru, don't let him touch it," Ukiah said, and it wasn't until Atticus started to ask why that he realized that Ukiah hadn't opened his mouth, moved his lips, or spoken aloud. " If one of you must handle it, it should be you— and then don't touch him."
"Hey, don't pull any freaky Pack shit," Daggit snapped. "Talk with your mouths. You want a sample or not?"
"It's okay." Animal seemed reluctant to annoy either Atticus or Ukiah. "This is good shit. It's not going to hurt him."
"Don't be a wuss." Rebar made a noise of disgust. "This is the safest shit to hit the street. It makes Ecstasy look like heroin."