by Hazel Parker
All eyes then shifted to Splitter. If Trace really wanted to avoid a mutiny, then it would have been best for Splitter to just say yea so that it wouldn’t become the equivalent of a dictatorial order. Splitter leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and sighed.
“You know, BK,” he said, “I admit that I’m goddamn emotional about this. I don’t like waiting. I don’t. But…”
He sighed.
“Fuck.”
I really didn’t think he had any idea what he was going to do.
“We have to do what’s best for the club long term, not what’s best for the town hall in North Hollywood.”
He raised his palms in defeat.
“Fuck it. Yea.”
“So it’s decided,” Trace said, slamming his gavel. “BK, get to work.”
Krispy and Mafia left, slamming the door as hard as they could on the way out. Sensei and Sword flinched at the violence of the impact.
“Let them go,” Trace said. “They’re hotheaded, but they aren’t stupid. They won’t defy us.”
Slowly, Sensei, Sword, and Splitter then left as well, leaving it to just the two of us.
“You can pull this off?” Trace said.
It wasn’t going to be easy. I especially knew it was going to be really bad for Megan to acquire a client and suddenly have him perish—right or wrong, it was going to look an awful lot like she was involved. Her worst fears were going to come true.
But it was too late for that. She was in this ring one way or the other, and there was no getting out.
“Yes,” I said.
“You better,” Trace said. “Because if you don’t come through, it’s either let the club splinter from within or remove you as sergeant-in-arms.”
Chapter 16: Megan
When Burke finally came back to me, he looked as exhausted as I had ever seen him.
“You OK?” he said.
He let out a very long sigh, almost slumping against the door behind him.
“Burke…”
I got out of bed and sat next to him. Nighttime had fallen. The last time we were together here, like this, the Devil’s Mercenaries had struck a building over.
But I had faith that, just like last time, Burke would protect me no matter what it took. And for that reason, I wasn’t nearly as afraid as I might have been in the days before.
“I’ve got to do some things, Megan,” he said. “You… you may not like them.”
“What are they?”
But he just shook his head.
“Are you going to break up with me?” I said, fearful.
And what is there to break up with, anyway? He’s not your boyfriend.
And yet, the way you just phrased it, it sure seems like it’s what you want…
“No,” Burke said, speaking very slowly and carefully. “But just be warned. I care for you, and I like you a lot. But part of a biker’s life here is that we have to take care of club business, and club business has to stay within the club. I cannot tell you about it unless you find out about it. I can promise you that I will be faithful to you. I will be honest with you about everything else. But I cannot tell you the things about club business.”
I had a sickening feeling about what that meant. I strongly suspected he was referring to criminal activities that, if I committed them, would almost certainly put me in jail.
But for Burke, it was just part of his service to the club.
“Are you going to follow my plan?” I asked. “My suggestions?”
“Yes,” he said. “After this week.”
That’s… that’s an odd caveat.
“OK…”
He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he wrapped me in his arms tight, kissed the top of my head, and then ran his fingers through my hair. I felt protected by him, and I felt safe with him.
But I wasn’t sure, right now, if I could say I felt comfortable with him.
“You should head home,” Burke said. “Do you want me to escort you back?”
I looked up. His eyes looked so sad. At least I knew he did not want me to head home. But…
“Club business.” That better not become a catch-all in our relationship.
Relationship… are you sure you won’t be treating him as a boyfriend already?
“It’s OK,” I said, smiling. “Promise me you’ll see me again, though. Promise me you’ll see me by at least Saturday night.”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “I promise.”
Those were all the words I needed to hear right now. Maybe at some point, I would need him to commit to telling me a little more, or at least commit to spending more time with me, but it was a good enough start.
“Thanks, Burke,” I said.
I leaned up to kiss him. He walked me to the car. With one more kiss, he let me into my ride, and then I was heading home.
* * *
Although the first thing I usually did when I woke up was check work email, today, I had a more personal interest in something else.
What was the news coverage like of the murder of the woman?
I went to the LA Times website and a few other local sources and read through everything I could. Murder coverage could never exactly be called “favorable,” but I appreciated seeing that multiple outlets were reporting that police could not confirm that it had been the Savage Saints who had done it.
Of course, public opinion didn’t need the level of proof that a real court did. It was likely that many in Los Angeles had their minds cemented even further that the Saints had done it. But given that many of the articles also included some variant of the line: “Many sources believe that biker gangs are impersonating each other, making it difficult to know who actually committed the murder at this time,” I had hope that the window was open enough for the Saints to come out on the other end of their coverage on the positive side.
I then resumed my normal workday, checking email before driving to the office. We still had the security presence at the front door, but today, the employees seemed a little less disturbed than they had the day before. Maybe they’d just gotten used to it, or maybe they had just ignored it, but either way, this was good both for employee morale and employee productivity.
When I got to my office, I shot off a text to Burke asking, “Have you had a chance to read the coverage of you?” I left it at that, putting my cell phone into my desk to check at the top of my hour—my allowance to myself for social media and texting breaks.
All seemed fine and well when Andrea, my secretary, buzzed in.
“Hey,” I said.
“I have Jose Gonzalez here,” she said. “He said it’s an emergency and he needs to see you right now.”
“OK…” I said.
I couldn’t refuse him even though I knew what the Saints had said about him and his association with the DMs. As far as Jose knew, I was just a marketing specialist who had her place vandalized by the Saints—or that’s what I was presumed to have thought, at least. I had to play the part until…
Well, I didn’t know what the until was. Maybe that’s the club business Burke was referring to. Jose…
A few seconds later, Jose walked through the doors to my office, shutting the wooden doors behind him. He had never done that before, and already, I was feeling a little nervous.
“Did you see what the bastard Saints did yesterday?” he said.
I bit my lip. He was getting right to it, huh?
“You mean with the town hall member? That was so terrible.”
“Isn’t it!” he said with more force than expected. “That’s to be expected for a bunch of Saints, isn’t it? Isn’t it to be expected that they would act as arrogant fools.”
“Uhh…” I said, hesitating in how to act. It was noticeable that Jose had not moved forward at all. He was remaining near the door to my office as if trying to block it. “It was really bad, yeah.”
“Really, really bad, I know!” Jose said, almost laughing. “Tell me, Megan; you said you worked with th
em while you were in Green Hills, right? What was it like, hmm? What was it like?”
Jose looked like he was losing his mind. I really wished I was in a spot to text Burke and ask him for help, but right now, I didn’t think that I could do it without raising an enormous amount of suspicion.
“It was… awkward,” I said, which was the truth about how the first few meetings had gone. “I got the sense that they were trying to intimidate me, and it was not a fun experience. I felt a little bit like they, uh, didn’t want me to—”
“But you did anyway, didn’t you,” Jose said, his eyes glaring. “You managed to get presence in Green Hills somehow. My associates said we’re starting to see sales in Green Hills. So tell me, Megan, Miss Walker, Megan Walker, how did you do it?”
“Are you OK, Jose?” I said, deciding I was having enough of this. “You seem very on edge.”
“I’m on edge because of the goddamn fucking Saints!” he snapped, his face growing red.
Now I knew I was in trouble. I needed to get help badly, but I couldn’t just stay here. That wasn’t going to do me any good, and I didn’t have a panic button on my desk. Why would I ever need one? I wasn’t a bank with millions of dollars in a nearby vault.
“I’m on edge,” he said, “because they are causing terror all through this town, and if we don’t act in a way to keep them in line, everything is going to go to shit. Everything! All of my plans, all of my actions, they’re all, they’re all—”
“Jose,” I said, snapping my fingers.
Maybe I should have been more cautious about trying to snap at someone who was not only a little on edge but also an associate of a crime organization—and yes, I could truly and confidently call the Mercs gangsters—but in my office, after what they had done, I had to stand up a little bit for myself.
“It’s horrible, and I agree. But I am here to help you with your business, not with figuring out ways around the Saints. That’s the job of the police. Let the police take care of things, and we’ll take care of our things. OK?”
“I wish it were that easy, beautiful.”
“What did I tell you about flirting with me, Jose?” I said.
He’s lost his mind. He’s completely lost his mind. I have to get out of here.
“You know what, forget it. I know you’ve had a rough morning, but you are not in any state to be meeting with me right now. We weren’t even supposed to meet right now. So let’s get you out of here, we’ll get you home, you can take a day off, and get some sleep, OK?”
I moved around my desk and approached him, ready to guide him out.
And that’s when he moved his jacket to the side, revealing a gun in his hip pocket. I froze in my tracks.
“I don’t think so, Megan,” he said, a sick smile coming to his face. “You and I are going to talk.”
“About what?” I said, feigning ignorance. “You brought a fucking gun to my office?”
I tried to shout as loud as I could, hoping that Andrea or anyone walking nearby would hear me. Unfortunately, I had also gone to great lengths to request sound-proof material in the past for confidential meetings.
“Think of it as my guarantee of the truth,” he said. “I need to know what you did with the Saints. I need to!”
“I don’t—”
“Come, sit,” he said.
He motioned for me to sit down at one of the two chairs on the near side of the desk. I tried to circle around to the far side, but he said “ah ah,” and motioned for me to sit down where he could see my hands. I did so willingly and sat down. Once he was convinced I wasn’t going to bolt up, he sat across from me, so close he could rub his hands on my knee.
It was sickening. I was being held hostage, and there was nothing I could do. I would have to lie through my teeth or somehow do something to ensure I didn’t get shot.
“That’s better, wouldn’t you say, beautiful?” he said.
I didn’t respond, instead glaring at him.
“Now, then, since we’re here, I suppose I should tell you a few things so we’re on the same page,” he said. “My brother, Marco, used to run the Devil’s Mercenaries. He used to, before the goddamn Saints killed him. Punched his face in. Did you know that, Megan? Did you know that they didn’t just shoot him: they fucking beat his face to a pulp?”
“No, I did not,” I said with a gulp, speaking the truth. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
Jose snorted. From afar, with his leg crossed and his hands casually on his thigh, it almost looked like a job interview. This was a problem. I needed to make it obvious I was in a bad situation without making it too obvious—but was that even possible?
“Not as sorry as I was,” he said. “All of us Gonzalez boys are entrepreneurs in our own way; I just figured it was easier to get rich with a publicly allowed vice in drinking instead of the illegal way. And it was working! I promised Marco that if he ever needed money, he could come to me. We were going to rule this city. We were going to let it be a city where no one had to apologize for whatever they did.”
Total anarchy. Utter chaos and madness.
“And then the fucking Saints fucked everything up!” he said. “And so then I started looking for ways to get my revenge. They took my brother, a man I loved. He was family. So I said fuck that, I am going to take family from them. So I paid them off to kill the lawyer, their fucking VP’s friend.”
Jesus Christ. You’re truly fucking crazy.
“But the Saints had too much manpower. I underestimated our losses from before and what that attack had done. I knew we had to be subtle in our attacks. So I decided to get creative. If we couldn’t hit them in the streets, we’d hit them in the press.”
“And kill women?” I snapped.
Jose shrugged.
“I didn’t tell them what they needed to do specifically. My hands are clean of that. Besides, they didn’t do it. They had the Saints letters carved in, didn’t they?”
I wanted to smack Jose so hard.
“And so now, here’s where you come in, Miss Walker,” he said. “I know that you went to work with them in Green Hills. I know that one of them, some big dumb meathead, walked in on a meeting you had with town hall. Oh, I knew that shithead was someone you would know well. So, here’s what I need to know from you. Everything you know about them.”
“What the fuck do you expect me to know,” I said, still looking for a way out of this. “I went to Green Hills once and found out the president’s name was Trace.”
“The man who killed my brother,” he said simply.
“I went to the club and asked to speak to Trace to spread Sea Sailor Whiskey. The big guy, uh, BK, I think his name is.”
I almost spilled his first name, but if that wasn’t public knowledge, I didn’t want to give Jose anything that could be used against Burke.
“I asked to see Trace, and then he wouldn’t let me. He kept saying that any such requests had to go through him. I could see that it was just one giant stonewalling, and so I left.”
“And yet the whiskey bottle is selling like hotcakes in that town,” Jose said, arching an eyebrow. “So are you lying to me, Miss Walker? All business is based on trust, you know.”
I bit my lip, trying to think beyond what I would say next. I couldn’t get the attention of anyone outside my office without risking getting shot. I could say what had happened as soon as Jose left, but by that point, he would probably be long gone. I was realizing that he had done this today for only one of two reasons—he had either lost his mind, or he had set up a grand scheme to take out the Saints.
And the fact that it involved me…
He knows. He knows about me and Burke.
He’s going to use me as bait to draw them out.
Shit!
“There was a second meeting,” I said. “But it honestly felt inconsequential to me, so—”
“What happened?”
He was regaining control, suddenly becoming very cold and calculating in his words. It was enoug
h to send a shiver down my spine.
“BK agreed to help me spread the whiskey in Green Hills,” I said. “If I helped give them advice for how to handle the PR disaster that came from the North Hollywood shooting.”
“And what did you say?”
“Just very generic advice that anyone with half a brain could have come up with,” I said.
It was sadly amusing how that was the truth. Sad, because I had spent so much time trying to push Burke away and tell him how I wasn’t going to dip to his level… and now that I had, I realized how good I had had it.
And now, I was either going to die or have something happen to me.
“You know, Miss Walker, I actually believe you,” Jose said. “But unfortunately, that doesn’t help me as much as I had hoped. So, there are two ways you can make it up to me.”
He pulled out his gun and put it on the table.
“You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life,” he said. “You reject my advances under the pretenses of business, yet I know how you looked at me in that first meeting. Your eyes lusted for me; your eyes craved me. You could not get enough of me.”
“Jose…”
“You cannot convince me that you do not want to sleep with me. You cannot!”
His bark was almost loud enough that I held out hope someone outside had heard it. But at this point, I was running out of hope very quickly.
“So, the choice is simple. Let me make sweet love to you right now, Megan. Take your clothes off, and let me have my way with you. Or, you die. What is your choice?”
I looked at the clock. Only ten minutes had passed since Jose had first entered. I didn’t know how long it would be until people started getting suspicious something was going on, but it wasn’t long enough.
I had to create time. I had to give someone time to react.
Because if I didn’t…
Both choices were unfathomable.
Chapter 17: BK
“This isn’t like her.”
As soon as Megan had sent me a message asking me if I’d seen the coverage of us, I wrote back immediately to say yes. I also asked her what her thoughts were as an expert in the field, but she hadn’t responded yet.