by Shannon West
“This is Ron Perry, Drave,” Luke said, before things could get even more uncomfortable. “We all served on a mission together and thought it’s been fun to meet up for some partying. Wilson’s outside with our dog. Is it okay to bring him inside?”
“Sure, we’re pretty slow this time of day. I can take you back to a private room.”
Perry went to get them and Draven told the bartender to direct them to the back room. He was doing all the usual polite bullshit that most people never really meant, but Logan didn’t think Draven was most people. He was sending out nothing but cool, friendly vibes, except for the occasional sarcastic remark. It would have been so much easier if the asshole hadn’t been so congenial. That congeniality didn’t mean he wasn’t astute though. He soon caught Luke’s eye and got right to the point.
“So, Luke,” Draven said, once Perry, Wilson and Rio joined them, and they’d ordered a round of beer, “why are you really here? You don’t do fun or partying, despite what you just told me. There’s no way you’ve changed that much since the last time I saw you. What’s really going on and how can I help?”
Logan had always pictured Luke as not having any close friends—friends ready to throw down first and ask questions later. His friendship with Draven surprised him until he glanced over at Luke and in that one brief second, Logan understood the situation. Luke didn’t even know Draven valued him as a friend. Considering Luke was the only one in their group who had education, class and an impeccable reputation, Luke seemed to value himself less than any of them. Luke sat quietly, glancing back over at Logan as if unsure of how to answer. Logan knew it was because he didn’t trust anybody except him and was relying on him to take charge. Hell, he hoped Luke finally trusted and relied on him, anyway.
Logan answered Draven. “I can answer that. We’re looking for somebody—a friend of ours who was on this mission Luke mentioned along with us. We got separated and we heard he might be here in Atlanta. We decided to find out for ourselves if he was okay. Luke said you knew a lot of people. He thought we could start with you, maybe see if you’d seen him around.”
“I can do that,” Draven answered, his eyes telling me he knew there was more to this but was willing to play dumb if that’s what the situation required. “Got a picture of him?”
Perry pulled his phone out. None of us had a picture of Jackson since all our phones had been destroyed in the explosion, but we had been able to find some pictures from his social media accounts. Perry had saved those to his burner. He handed the phone over and said, “This is him. He wouldn’t have been around Atlanta for long. Maybe two or three weeks now.”
Draven’s eyes narrowed when he looked at the picture on the phone, and Logan knew, regardless of whether Draven would admit it or not, he had seen Jackson. Something flashed in his eyes—an emotion Logan wouldn’t think he’d ever seen from somebody the size of Draven.
Fear.
“Don’t shut down, Draven,” Luke said quietly, obviously recognizing it too. “He needs us.”
Draven looked at him with one raised eyebrow. “Don’t you talk to me about shutting down, Luke. You’re the king of the shut downs.” His eyes flickered up as the waiter stopped by the table, and he shook his head slightly from side to side, telling them to shut the fuck up.
“I like your friends, Draven,” the little waiter practically purred, as he placed a beer in front of each of us. “Anybody looking for company tonight? I get off in an hour.”
Draven reached over and gave the twink’s ass a hard smack. “Keep it in your pants, ChiChi. They’re here to talk to me, not looking for ass. Just keep the beer coming and put it on my tab.” When a disappointed ChiChi pouted a little and sashayed off, Draven turned back to us and asked, “How good a friend are we talking about?”
“Good enough. He’s one of ours,” Logan answered firmly.
He gave Logan a dubious look. “He’s trouble.”
Perry rolled his eyes. “We know he’s in trouble! That’s why we’re here.”
“I didn’t say he was in trouble,” Draven corrected. “I said he was trouble.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “Let me clarify that. He runs with trouble—the kind of trouble you don’t want to mess with. His new boss is Austell Dread. The man is dangerous, Luke. His gang operates out of a club on Ponce de Leon. He has a little ‘protection’ racket going on with all the local clubs. He dabbles in several other areas too—distributes drugs, sells ass for fun, and kills for sport, but none of that’s how he makes his main money. He has a betting operation going on in that club that people talk about only in whispers. Dread rules this portion of Atlanta he’s carved out for himself. And he does it with fear. Can you imagine how fucking badass you have to be if even the other gangs around here are afraid to fuck with you? If you do, you’re dead. End of story. This friend of yours came in with some of his muscle not long ago. And to tell you the truth, he was indistinguishable from the rest of them.”
There was an uneasy silence as Logan looked around at each member of the team. He saw nothing but curiosity and conviction. No fear at all.
“You said this Dread guy distributes drugs? I guess you meant he sells drugs,” Logan said.
“No, they distribute drugs. As in free. Hands them out like candy to people they think might be useful to them in some way. They don’t need drug money. They make their bank in other ways. Dread has recently started himself up an underground fighting ring, sort of like in that movie. People go to watch and place bets. Big ones. Others pay for the pleasure of regularly getting the shit beaten out of them—bare knuckles, anything goes style fighting. And from what I hear, your man Jackson is smack in the middle of it.”
“What? No way. That’s not like Jackson,” Luke mumbled. “You’ve got to be mistaken.”
“No mistake,” Draven said, looking back down at the picture. “I’ve seen this guy. He’s good looking enough that he’s gotten a lot of attention. Funny eyes though. He’s come in twice now to collect Draven’s ‘protection money.’”
Logan glanced at Luke, feeling a little confused. Jackson was what he’d call an ordinary looking guy. He was average height, average weight, average just about everything. His hair was nondescript brown, his eyes were hazel, and his skin was a slightly darker tone than Logan’s. Jackson was mixed race, had a nice enough body—all around a nice guy, and Logan liked him, but he wouldn’t term him “really special.”
“What do you mean, ‘funny eyes?”
“There’s nothing in there,” Draven answered. “Like no one’s home inside. He seems empty sometimes when I look at him—like just a shell.” He took a sip of his beer and set it back down. “Look, I never forget a face…even one with eyes as soulless as your friend has.”
Luke frowned. “Soulless?”
“Absolutely. And he’s been high as a kite on each trip.” He frowned. “That’s actually unusual. Dread usually doesn’t allow his muscle to use.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
Logan nodded—Luke was right. It didn’t sound like Jackson. Next to Luke, Jackson was the biggest conformist to all the rules they had on the team. He was a health nut, too—considered his body a holy shrine and that kind of shit. No way would Jackson put drugs in his shrine. Hell, Logan hadn’t ever been able to get him to drink more than one beer. The idea that he was hooked on drugs just didn’t seem right. Could any of them even be hooked? With their immunity to most things so far, it didn’t seem likely.
Draven shrugged and continued. “He’s been in here with Dread’s men for the past three Friday nights—that’s the night they pick our club to make their show of dominance. It’s always been that way, but your buddy has been with them the last three Fridays.”
Logan leaned forward. “Tell me again why they come in here? You said dominance? Just to remind you guys that they exist?” Logan believed Draven was shooting straight with them, but nothing he said made any sense so far, not where Jackson was concerned.
“No, they come to
get paid,” Draven growled. “They collect a ‘security donation’ from the owners every Friday. Now, they don’t offer security, but by that they mean they’ll agree to ignore us the rest of the time as long as the payment is made each week.”
Perry leaned in and tried to make his voice casual. “Any chance you have anything around here that Jackson, our buddy, has ever…uh…touched?”
Draven frowned. “Touched? Why? What difference would that make?”
“Trust me, it makes a difference,” Perry answered. “Anything?”
Draven got quiet for a few seconds, like he was torn about what to say next. Finally, he answered, “Yeah, I actually do. On his last visit, he left a gold ring on the table. His military ring. Personally, I thought it was probably a test—to try to trip us up and hope we’d lie about having it. I locked it in the company safe until he came back. I can let you look at it, but you can’t take it. It would be too dangerous for the people here. If it were just me, I might take the risk. It isn’t, though. If that was a fucking test, we’re going to pass it.”
“I just need to touch it,” Perry answered. “Then you can have it right back. I promise.”
Draven looked at Luke who shrugged his shoulders. “I know it sounds weird, Draven, but please get the ring for him.”
After a long moment, he nodded. “All right. I’ll go get it. Wait here.”
He disappeared through a door in the back wall covered by a dark curtain, and Logan raised his eyebrows and fell back in his chair. “This can’t be right. No way this is our Jackson.”
Perry shrugged. “We showed him a couple pictures. He recognized him right away.”
“Well, not exactly. He said the guy was something special, which I assume means really nice looking. And he said Jackson’s eyes were soulless. Like no one’s home? That doesn’t sound like him either.”
“Do you think you can really tell something about the person who left that ring? If it’s Jackson or not?” Luke asked, turning to Perry, who nodded.
“Yeah, I do. I was getting stuff about Logan from the steering wheel on the way down here. More than I needed to know, if you know what I mean,” he said, glaring at Logan.
“Hey, stay out of my shit and mind your own fucking business, Perry.”
Perry grinned at him and shrugged. “I got some stuff on your friend too, that Diego. Man, he loved that truck.”
Draven came back through the doorway and over to their table. He held out a heavy looking gold ring, with a dark blue stone inset on top. “This is it.”
Perry took it in his hand and immediately flinched. He frowned down at it for a moment and swayed slightly in his seat. “Okay, thanks, Draven. Uh, I know this is your club and all, but…could we have a little privacy for a minute? I have to talk to my friends about something.”
Draven smiled at them. “All right. Just don’t lose that ring. Give it to the bartender Sammy on the way out if you have to leave before I get back. I have to check on things in the kitchen anyway. Have another round on the house, if you like.”
Luke stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you, Draven. If I don’t see you again before we leave, I’ll come back by and say hello if I can.”
“You do that. It was great seeing you.” He gave Luke another hug, which Logan thought was a bit excessive, winked at Logan and then went back out through the same door.
Logan put a hand on Perry’s shoulder. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Jackson. He’s…he’s in trouble. Taking a lot of drugs because of all that’s going on with him, but it doesn’t last long. Drugs don’t work on him for long. It’s driving him crazy.”
“What is?” Luke asked. “What’s bothering him?”
Logan nodded. “Yeah, what else did you get? Is whatever’s bothering him why he’s taking the drugs?”
“Yeah, but they don’t work all that well. It only mutes the noise but doesn’t drown it out entirely. He left his ring on purpose—knew you would find him, Logan. He thinks you’re...uh…nah, that doesn’t make sense.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing clear. Just impressions. But he knew you’d come looking for him, and he knew that Draven and Luke had a connection.”
Luke frowned. “But how the hell would he…?”
“He saw a card in your office just before we left to go to Mexico. It was from Draven.”
Luke turned toward Logan with his eyes wide. “A sympathy card. I had it on my desk. Draven said he read my dad’s obituary in the newspaper and sent it to me. I hadn’t heard from him in a few years before that.”
“Okay,” Logan said, still not liking it much. “You think he remembered that?”
Perry shook his head. “No…well…I don’t know. But he talked a little to Draven when he was here. Saw Draven’s ring and asked him about it. Draven told Jackson he had been a Navy SEAL. Jackson asked him about whether or not he knew Luke and one thing led to another.”
“Can you see anything about where Jackson is?”
“No. Maybe your buddy can tell us that. The only other thing I got was pain from that ring. And worry. He’s in a bad place and doesn’t know how to get out of it. Sometimes he doesn’t even want to anymore.” He grimaced suddenly and dropped the ring on the table, backing his chair away from it a little. “Shit.”
“What is it?” Logan asked urgently. “What did you see?”
“Blood. Fighting and blood and violence with different guys. Fuck, he’s in a bad place right now.”
Logan picked up the ring to hand it back to Perry. “Take it again and see if anything else comes through.”
“Fuck no, I’m not touching that thing. It almost took the top of my head off. He’s getting really powerful, Logan.”
“Are you seeing anything else?”
“Just…I don’t know…crazy impressions. Images that went by too fast to focus on. I can’t really pin it down any better than that. Clouds and smoke and some kind of...snake or lizard thing with a long body.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. When I had my hands on the steering wheel, I got images from Logan too.” He shrugged. “Stuff that didn’t make sense. I don’t know. Just wondered. Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”
Logan glanced at Luke uneasily. Stuff? Like what? Was Perry picking up on Logan’s new “power” he had displayed not long ago? If so, Logan wasn’t ready to talk about that yet with anybody but Luke.
“Well, anyway,” he said. “We need to take this ring to the bartender and find out where this Austell Dread is. If his club is close by or what.”
“It’s still pretty early for a club to be open,” Logan said. “Let’s drop off the ring and then find a hotel that takes dogs. We have a little time to kill before tonight.”
Wilson shuddered and they all glanced over at him. “Sorry. It was that word ‘kill.’ I got a chill like somebody was walking over my grave there for a second.”
“Don’t say that,” Logan said, shaking his head. “Because that shit’s not even funny.”
Chapter Four
They located a Hampton Inn on the north side of town whose web page said they took pets, and they got a room. It was pricier than they were used to, but Logan still got two rooms. On the way inside, Perry had been griping about sharing the room with him and Luke, not to mention the dog. Luke ignored Perry’s griping, but he and Logan had a few words. Logan shut him down with a murderous glare and a few choice words.
“Have you got the money for two rooms?”
“You know I don’t.”
“So you’re relying on my charity. Shut the fuck up. I don’t relish sleeping next to your snoring, ugly ass either, so out of the goodness of my heart I’ll get two rooms. But you need to check yourself.”
Luke had to stifle his grin so as not to start a fight. It was getting easier and easier to let Logan handle things like that for him and the tendency was a little alarming. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to lean on Logan. But he’d never done that with anyone else
before in his life that he could recall and it didn’t feel quite right now. But it did feel good—damn good and there was no denying the fact.
They hung around the room watching tv until it got dark, or at least Logan did. Perry called to say he was going down to the gym to work out while Jake took a nap. Luke decided to do the same. Around seven, Logan finally stirred and got up to stretch and it woke Luke up. Perry had come by the room just as Logan was coming out of the shower.
“Better get dressed to go out.”
“Should we take a weapon?”
Logan shrugged and snorted. “I think we pretty much are weapons. Still,” he hesitated. “Might not be a bad idea. You got anything?”
He pulled a wicked looking knife from his boot and Logan nodded approvingly. “That might come in handy. Draven and his bartender were both big guys, yet they said these boys of Dread’s are tough. They might not like us coming in and asking questions.”
Logan finished dressing, and they left Rio in the room and made their way downstairs to get the truck. As they waited on the sidewalk for their car to be brought around, Logan glared at Luke’s jeans. “Can’t you get those any tighter, Luke? Maybe shop in the boys’ section next time, or hell, just let me get some blue paint and I’ll spray you down.”
Wilson, who was standing beside Luke, whispered to him. “He doesn’t want anyone looking at you.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Logan said, his voice dripping with irritation.
Luke grinned at Wilson. “Yeah, I got that. He’s always an ass when he’s jealous—thanks, though.”
Wilson nodded glancing at Logan and Luke smiled to himself as he walked ahead of them, giving his ass an extra twist just to wind him up as he climbed into the back of the truck.
The Legacy Club, was, according to the bartender, the club that belonged to Austell Dread. They had looked up the address, put it in GPS and found a parking lot on the street nearby that was one of those where people paid at a kiosk. Some homeless guy wobbled up to them, reeking of something Luke didn’t want to think about too hard and offered to park the truck for them. “The lot’s just behind this one. For just a small fee, man. Just gimme your keys.” Logan bared his teeth and growled at him, and the man stumbled backward and ran for his life.