As the truck started off, Lindsey slid his sunglasses on and settled back into the seat. "It wasn't bad," he replied, glancing towards the window. It probably could have gone a little smoother but the original owners were incapacitated and they were in possession of the weapons. A nice little payday for them once they started the bidding war. Yet try as he might to focus solely on that, there was still that nagging little voice in the back of his mind. Damn conscience.
While he had manipulated people, screwed them over, been the one responsible for them losing their livelihood and lives, he'd never taken a life before. The Croats didn't count, virus infected shells that had once been people. The merciful thing to do was put them down. But the people they'd just taken the cargo from, they had been fully human. The last thing he needed to be doing was showing any sign of weakness around her. He trusted her about as far as he could throw her and he knew she felt the same way, which was why this business arrangement of theirs worked. He wasn't about to give her anything to help her pull one over on him.
"Demons with guns. They can bid for them if they want, but it seems a little substandard on their part," he said as he looked back towards Bela. "I'll contact the camp leaders, see what I can drag out of them. Between the refugees and people coming back from the dead, there's going to be an increase in need either way. Someone's going to want them." He fell silent for a moment before answering. "What's about that other camp? The one run by Harris?"