by SE Jakes
Castle sighed. “Sounds serious. Like it’s a real job.”
“It’s keeping me busy. Out of trouble.” He wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying harder to convince.
“Got your orders, boys.” The waitress put their plates in front of them. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
They ate in silence for a few moments, until Castle asked, “This is your life now? Catching two-bit criminals for a one-percenter motorcycle gang?”
“Club,” Linc replied automatically, forcing himself not to get angry at Castle’s words. “And they’ve got clubs all over here. But thanks for your concern.”
“I like looking out for my friends.” Castle took a bite of his sandwich.
Linc snagged a fry, dipped it in ketchup, and popped it in his mouth. “I’m good at bond work.”
“Of course you are,” Castle said seriously. “You’d be good at anything you do.”
Linc stared at him. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do. Why are you surprised?” Castle sounded irritated. “I want to see you thrive. You’re young. Got a lifetime of opportunities ahead of you. I don’t want to see you stuck.”
“You think staying in Havoc with Mercy is being stuck?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” For the first time, he’d felt at home. Having Bram here now, along with Rush and Noah, made it that much more complete.
“You’ll get restless,” Castle pushed. “No matter how happy you are with Mercy, you’re going to get bored without the rush of the work you do for us.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” But would that happen too late? Linc considered that over another fry.
Castle seemed to accept that, for the moment. “Let’s get to the reason I brought you here. A serious matter has come to my attention, and it involves you indirectly—through Havoc. Your missing skip—Ty—turned up dead . . . in many different pieces.” Castle dipped a fry in ketchup. “Dismembered while still alive, for however long that lasted.” He ate the fry. “Is Carla seeing anyone from Havoc?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Castle nodded, like he was filing that info away. Linc rolled his eyes. “Can we get off your love life and back on my skip?”
“What do you know about Ty?”
“It didn’t make sense,” Linc admitted. “Ty was more the public-defender type, so who the hell was paying the high-priced lawyer fee?” Castle leaned back and waited as Linc talked himself through it. “Heathens and PX wouldn’t. It’s Mexican Cartel. Blanchard intimated that Ty would end up dead . . . and he reps a ton of cartel and Project X guys.”
Castle narrowed his eyes. “You met Blanchard?”
“And got Ty’s file, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Address on Ty?”
Linc nodded, sent the pictures of the files over to Castle’s phone. “Is the cartel working with PX?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’re getting involved.”
Linc didn’t commit to that. “So the cartel’s pulling PX in, and, in turn, they want Heathens. They wouldn’t do a drug trade together, because it wouldn’t benefit any of them. Which means . . . trafficking.”
“Smartest one in the class, as always.”
“And Ty?”
“Dead because the DA was trying to use him to build a RICO case against PX and the cartel.”
“You knew all about the trafficking, didn’t you?” Linc mused.
“We’ve been hearing rumors, but nothing solid. Actually, I’m thinking you’re giving me the first real confirmation, which will get me actual people on this case.” Castle looked resigned. “The trafficking of underage kids most definitely is happening, at least through the ports closest to Shades.”
Linc’s head began to throb. Yeah, this was bad news. The drugs were bad enough, but trafficking brought an even worse element around. “Happy to help.”
“Do you want in?”
“Can I tell Havoc any of this?”
“You know the answer to that,” Castle said simply.
Which meant he couldn’t tell Havoc about the investigation, his part in it . . . or the fact that there was human trafficking happening near Shades Run.
In all the years he’d freelanced for different agencies, recruited right out of the Army, he’d never shared his work with anyone outside of Castle and Matlin. Not with Bram or Rush or Noah. Hell, if Castle even knew he had a brother in the ATF, Linc never knew.
The first time they’d approached him, it’d been for a mob sting in Boston. Apparently, Linc’s former CO was friends with Castle, and kept his eye out for men he thought were good chameleons. It was a skill Linc took pride in. Bram was good at it too, so Linc figured it must run in the family. But he’d never wanted to do this full-time. Basically, he still didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up, and now, as he approached twenty-five, the choices were becoming more cut-and-dried and far more blurry.
The difference between Linc and Bram was that when Linc slid into whatever character he played, he didn’t lose himself at all. It didn’t fuck with his head—he knew who he was, or he had until the Heathens had fucked him up good. Still, he was quick on his feet even though he feared that falling for Mercy had made him soft. He hadn’t been looking over his shoulder.
But now he had a chance to help Havoc finished the Heathens, once and for all, and get rid of PX at the same time. Because he figured Castle had found a way to bust the drug runners and the traffickers all at once . . . and as Castle talked a little more about the cartel and its interests, Linc got a sick feeling about all of it. Because when Bram had worked to take down a white supremacist gang five years ago, that had been as close to a suicide mission as it got.
Then again, his brother seemed to have a penchant for those.
And pot, meet kettle . . . because now, a new gang threatened Havoc, Shades, and the surrounding towns. The trafficking ring upped the ante to unacceptable levels.
“Trafficking and the mob isn’t the typical coupling,” Linc observed.
“True. But the cartel and the Aryans go together, and so does cartel and trafficking.” Funny how the brotherhood had no problem working for the very non-white cartel when money was involved.
“Fucking cartel in Shades,” Linc grumbled.
“Aryans will make the drugs and they’ll aid in the trafficking. This way the groups will share the docks and make even more money.”
“Aryans don’t like to get involved in that shit, so we’re missing something,” Linc told him. “How am I supposed to get involved in this, Castle?”
“You’re already involved.”
“I don’t fit in with the cartel. The mob, yes.”
Castle smiled and reassured him. “I’m not having you work to represent the cartel. Your old alias is from the Boston mob family you’ve already cultivated.”
“Johnny O’Connell?” he said doubtfully. O’Connell—or Johnny O.—was a carefully constructed alias, a long-lost cousin who was part of an old Boston mob family who controlled the docs. If anyone wanted in or out without issue, then Johnny O. was the one to see about smooth sailing.
“The cartel’s looking to lay cash on someone who can facilitate papers and inspects, and that’s you.” Castle had a way of making everything look like a walk in the park when it was more like the park was on fire and Linc would be running through it naked with no water in sight.
“And the Heathens? If any of them are there—or even the PX guys—they could make me.”
“The cartel doesn’t trust the MCs with the final shipment searches. Trust me, Linc—I wouldn’t put you face-to-face with anyone who’d make you.”
Fuck. “Where are they pulling these kids from?”
“Take your pick of any shelter up and down the east coast.”
The docks were about an hour outside Shades and still too close for comfort. Because Bertha’s was near the docs and the Havoc kids were used t
o hanging around there, especially when they snuck out at night.
He thought about the Heathens basement . . . the hands all over him . . . the freshly dug grave . . .
“I didn’t realize how much this took from you.” Castle’s voice tore him from his reverie.
“It didn’t . . . not at first. I’m just starting to realize that having the reputation of running isn’t always a good thing.”
“I’m sorry, Linc.”
“I chose the job. That means I’ll deal with the consequences. Always have.”
Castle reached out and touched his hand. “I’ve known you a long time. You’re hurting.”
“Does it matter?”
“To me, it does. I think you’re dangerous when you’re not working. But if you stay on, you’re right—there’s going to come a time when your friends—Mercy—have a lot of questions. And you know keeping your circle small is most important. It could be the difference between life and death.”
Linc couldn’t disagree. He stared out the window. “I need to think about this.”
“Don’t take too long. The cartel’s not.”
For most of the day, all Mercy had been able to think about was Linc in that suit . . . holy hell. Mercy had never had a suit fetish but his mind had been changed. It looked expensive. Custom-made. And Mercy needed to find a way to fuck him with it on.
He began making plans for that in earnest once he’d heard how well court had gone. And then, an hour later, when he’d gotten a call from the courthouse about exactly what had gone down, the suit still stayed toward the front of his mind . . . until Tug had called him about Linc’s diner lunch date.
After that, Mercy was too busy hunting Bram down on Havoc’s compound to think about Linc and suits. He found Bram in the clubhouse, outside of Sweet’s office.
“Hey, Sweet’s on a call.” Bram motioned to the closed door. He’d been heading down the hallway toward the main hangout part of the floor when Mercy barged in.
“Was looking for you. What’s your brother up to?” Mercy forced his tone into a pleasant rather than demanding one.
Bram frowned. “Now that the court case is over—”
“I’m not talking about the court case.”
“It was dismissed though, right?”
“Yes, it was dismissed,” Mercy said. “I’m talking in a more general sense.”
Bram still looked confused. “I thought you guys were doing better?”
“We are.”
“Like pulling fucking teeth,” Bram muttered. “Look, I thought Linc was doing all right. I mean, I thought you worked things out with his sneaking away, and he seems fine at Havoc now . . .”
“It’s not that. It’s that guy.”
Bram looked guarded. “The one from the lake house? He’s been coming around still?”
“He was at the courthouse. And Linc’s appearance was suddenly in closed court. In chambers.”
Bram glanced at the closed door and motioned for Mercy to move farther away from the door. Probably because Sweet had some unnaturally crazy hearing—Mercy had witnessed that firsthand. “What? Carla told you that?”
Mercy shook his head and lowered his voice. “I have eyes inside the court. And if I do . . .”
“Some else might’ve seen that,” Bram finished. “We need to find out what he’s up to, but confronting him isn’t the way.”
“That’s why I came to you. I don’t always know how to ‘speak Linc,’ you know.”
Bram snorted. “He’ll tell one of us. I think we have to trust that. But my gut tells me . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head like he was trying not to believe what he was thinking.
Mercy was thinking the same damned thing. “Right now, they’re meeting for lunch at the diner. Linc lied to Tug and said he was meeting Rush instead.”
Bram shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense—Linc’s allowed to have friends. There’s no reason for him not to talk about the guy unless . . . he’s not supposed to.”
“Which would mean . . . maybe he’d involved with something undercover.” And from the way Bram glanced at him, Mercy’s suspicions were confirmed. “Does it surprise you?”
“Yes and no. Linc is actually perfect for that line of work. Maybe even better than me. He’s more balanced . . . and if it’s true, then he was picked early, while he was still in the Army.”
“And he said that guy is an old Army friend,” Mercy said slowly. “Which means . . . when I thought he ran . . . fuck, he could’ve been on a job?”
Bram shook his head. “Does it matter? Either way you need to believe that he was coming back to you. Because that was his plan, before Heathens got involved.”
He nodded, feeling miserable as fuck.
“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Bram promised. “If Castle’s around this much, he’s got to be his handler.”
“Where was he when Linc went missing?”
“I have no idea, but if I get him alone it’s the first question I’m asking. Because I don’t like him.”
“Makes two of us. Want to roll him and punch him until he talks?” Mercy asked hopefully.
“Yes, but let’s drag him to somewhere private.”
“Are you two really conspiring to kidnap and beat someone?” Sweet hissed and both men jumped, since he’d snuck up behind them out of nowhere. Then he smirked, like he knew he’d bested them, before warning, “Back off.”
“But I don’t know this guy—or anything about him,” Bram said, like that excused everything else.
Well hell, to Mercy it definitely did, but judging by the look on Sweet’s face, he had a different opinion entirely.
“Last I looked, Linc was a free man.” Sweet’s tone was gruff and his words felt like a punch to Mercy’s gut, but it wasn’t a lie.
“Linc’s too vulnerable. And that guy . . . there’s something . . .” Bram crossed his arms and shook his head.
“Have you thought about just asking him?” Sweet suggested.
Bram looked at him like he was crazy. “Fuck no. That’s not how we operate. I steal around, find out the truth, and then I’ll confront him.”
Mercy snorted. Because yeah, that was pretty much his modus operandi.
“I’m going to ask him,” Sweet announced.
“No!” Bram yelled, looked at him in horror. “You’ll fuck up my whole recon.”
Sweet shook his head and muttered something about “crazy-assed bullshit.”
“Yeah, and you love my crazy-assed bullshit,” Bram retorted, and Sweet smiled and Mercy?
Pretended to gag before interrupting their love-fest to ask, “How does Linc know about Jethro?”
Sweet frowned and Bram shrugged. “No idea. He introduced me to Jethro at the hospital. Jethro told me who he was, so I thought maybe it was more of an open secret than it really is.”
“Kept close to the vest. Unless Linc knew through Rush,” Sweet said.
But if Linc had been working jobs in any undercover capacity, that would make a lot of the puzzle pieces fit.
Linc would be a good fit in the undercover world. He was calm and balanced . . . or had been, until he’d gotten involved with Mercy.
You dragged him into trouble. Ruin everything you touch.
That’s what David’s family had told him, when they learned exactly how David died. They knew why, even though the police refused to investigate. Because the police were in bed with the Heathens back home . . . and because David’s body had never been found. To this day, he was still listed as MIA, and his parents had been unable to give him a proper burial.
Mercy shook his head. “There’s more to it. He and Jethro have known each other a long time. It predates Rush’s history with Havoc. Castle’s the key to all this shit. He’s been hanging around since Linc got hurt.”
“Castle’s name is on the deed for the lake house and he hasn’t cashed any of my rent checks,” Bram added. “Which means he and I definitely need to have a long talk.”
“Start with Jethro,�
� Sweet instructed. “Because if Linc is working with Castle, he’s not going to tell you anything without Linc’s approval.”
Linc left Castle at the diner and went out to meet Tug, who brought him back to the bonds shop. Linc didn’t mention anything about Ty, not yet, but he was definitely distracted. Tug took pity on him when he started pacing and drove him back to Mercy’s house well before five.
Linc couldn’t get his mind off what Castle had told him, about the imminent danger . . . about not being able to share it with his friends at Havoc. Now, he slipped into Mercy’s house and closed the door quietly. He turned and found himself staring at Mercy . . . who was waiting, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, but smiling.
A dangerous smile.
“Hey, Mercy.”
“Hey, Linc. Heard court went well today.”
“Yeah, it did.”
Mercy obviously suspected something happened in that courthouse, but if this was going to be his approach, Linc was goddamned fine with it. A win-win, as they said. And, surprisingly, there were no questions, no mentions of court other than, “I’m glad you can put the arrest behind you.”
Mainly because of the way Mercy was staring at him, Linc realized he still had his suit on, although he’d taken his jacket off earlier and the tie hung loose around his neck. “Thanks. I’m just going to go, ah, change.”
Mercy shook his head. “You look comfortable enough to me. Why don’t you hang out here for a while?”
And then Mercy pulled out a wide leather chair from the table and sat, his legs slightly spread, his open palms resting on his muscular thighs.
He knows something. He knows and he’s going to torture it out of you. “Okay, yeah, I’ll hang. Maybe we could put on a movie.”
“I wasn’t really thinking about watching a movie. But I did have some thoughts about what else we could do.”
“Okay.” You’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t talk dirty to you . . .
“Linc? Why don’t you come over here and let me suck on those pretty nipples of yours until you’re squirming in my lap?” Mercy’s suggestion was a casual growl and fuck, how did he know?