by Jessie Cooke
“We had seventy-six murders in this city in the past year. Forty-five of those were perpetrated with guns. Eighteen of those guns have been untraceable...”
“What do you mean, untraceable? You just said Morrison has serial numbers. Why didn’t they just put those numbers into the database and find out where they came from in the first place?”
Meeks laughed. “I wish it worked that way, Wolf. There is no ‘database’ for firearms in this country. There’s a law in effect since computers were invented that was implemented to protect our constitutional right to keep and bear arms. If the government ever decides it wants to come and take your guns, it won’t be as easy as them taking a look at a big list on the computer.” He laughed again and said, “There’s an office in West Virginia, in a town made up of less than twenty thousand people, where everything is done by hand or on the phone. The registries kept by firearm dealers are kept by the dealer as long as they’re in business, and then sent there. Guns that come from out of the country are tracked by their serial numbers, phone calls, and faxes. None of it is in a database. Morrison claims these particular guns came from the Czech Republic, which we would go through hell getting a record of in the first place.”
“Son of a bitch. So, what are they offering Morrison in exchange for this ‘information?’”
“They’ll drop the trespassing and drug trafficking charges, and the current gun charges. Plus...they’ll give him immunity from any gun-running charges or any charges that might stem from what might come up later when or if they find out any of the guns were used in the commission of a crime.”
“Fucker. Rat motherfucker,” Wolf said. “He admits to ten fucking felonies and he’s going to get off scot-free by lying and pointing fingers at us? I don’t think so. Fucking let them take this bitch’s word for this shit. No fucking way is any jury in this state going to convict me or any of my guys of a ‘crime’ committed by a man who’s been dead for three years. And when this election year is over, no new DA will want the pressure of taking this shit on.”
Meeks sighed. “I think you’re right about that...if they went about it the way you’re thinking. If I thought you were guilty of this, you know I wouldn’t be here. But I don’t believe you are. My opinion, or any local law enforcement’s opinion, might not matter in a few weeks, however.”
“And why is that?”
“Because they’re talking about handing the whole thing over to the US Attorney’s office. They can slap a RICO charge on you and force your hand.”
“Motherfuckers!”
Meeks sighed and said, “We both know how that would affect this club.”
RICO or the “Racketeer Influenced or Corrupt Organization Act” is a tool used by the US Attorney’s office to force Mafia and other gang leaders to plead guilty to things they wouldn’t normally plead to, thanks to the fear of having the RICO charges brought against them instead. The problem with the RICO charges is not that they’ll always get a conviction in the end. As a matter of fact, when they’re fought tooth and nail, their conviction rates are minimal. The problem with fighting it is that the minute a RICO charge is leveled at a club, the government has the right to seek restraining orders, seize assets, prevent transfers of any assets or potentially profitable property, and even to have the accused put up what is a called a “performance bond.” That bond could be huge and its purpose is to ensure that if the accused were somehow able to hang onto enough assets to abscond, there is still something left to seize in the event that he is found guilty in the end. It’s a long, expensive, arduous process and many an organization has been brought to their knees in the thirty plus years since it was adopted into law, simply by fighting it alone.
Wolf knew that the Westside Skulls couldn’t survive it. Cutting off the cash flow would be like blocking an artery that directly fed the heart of the organization. Wolf appreciated the detective’s help, but he wasn’t going to prison for some shit he didn’t do either. He looked at Manson, and the two of them didn’t have to say a word to know what the other was thinking. Even if they began liquidating and transferring assets today, those assets would be left to languish until the war was over. They couldn’t use them because the US Attorney’s office would be watching their every move.
“What do they really want, Meeks? The bottom line? Do the local authorities really want to fuck with the Feds?” Wolf was at least smart enough to know that local authorities would rather deal with cases they could prosecute and win on their own. Turning things over to the US Attorney’s office or any other branch of the federal government was always a last resort. It wouldn’t carry as much weight for DA Hampton in the election, either.
“They want a fall guy, Wolf. They want you, or someone in your club, to admit that you sold those guns, and they get to prosecute you and say that they got a major arms dealer off the streets. That’s the least they’ll settle for.” Wolf’s headache rapidly turned into a migraine. He wondered if Coyote had really taken those guns and sold them...if he did, he had help. That was the man Wolf had to find. That was the man who would have to take the fall for this shit. But according to Meeks he only had a matter of weeks and then he’d only have two choices: plead guilty himself, or watch his club go up in smoke.
18
Beck spent the entire first week at the gym lifting weights and hitting a bag. Well, almost all of her time. Jacob had gone over some footwork with her and he’d talked endlessly about how important it was to keep moving. He talked so much as a matter of fact that she had quickly grown impatient and bitchy with him. She was so bitchy that she did something she rarely let herself do...she whined. She whined and begged him to let her spar with a live person. Jacob wouldn’t be deterred, however, no matter how whiny she got. He stayed calm and cool and he made it clear to her that she would do things his way, or not at all. She left every day exhausted and frustrated and more than a little pissed off. She spent all her time either at the gym working out or sleeping that week and by the end of it, she realized that she was slowly dying of a bad case of the hornies. People...like her mother and her stupid therapist...told her that was impossible, but it sure as hell felt real.
She’d been standing under the showerhead, letting the warm water soothe her aching muscles when she realized there was one more reason why she was so frustrated. She missed Jace and that really pissed her off. She was both pissed at him for leaving and pissed at herself for getting attached. Who gets attached to a scarred-up, barely vocal musclehead, anyway? Not Beck. She didn’t get attached to anyone. It was how she lived her life. People sucked you in and used you and then they left. Beck decided at a young age that she wasn’t going to be the one left behind. She would be the one doing the leaving. But that fucker Jace hadn’t played the game right. He was supposed to be so in awe of her that the thought of leaving her would be too much to bear. She was pretty sure that was what her fascination with him was. If he’d played along the way other men did, and worshiped her, she would have grown bored and left him herself. But the big oaf didn’t play fair so here she was, standing alone in her shower, mooning over the stupid ape.
Beck was staying at the club again. Wolf offered her the room until she finished her test, and she had accepted. So by the time she finished her shower, she decided what she needed was to forget about Jace and go downstairs and find herself a distraction for the evening. She’d planned on not doing that with the guys in the club...but she didn’t have the energy to go out to some random bar and find one. Besides, she was sure she could talk one into keeping his mouth shut, with the promise of getting to do her again if he did.
She finished drying off, wrapped up in a towel, and sat on the bed...for just a second. She woke up hours later after a very realistic dream about Jace. She was sweating and her skin tingled just from dreaming about having sex with him. What kind of power does he have over me? She had no idea, but instead of going downstairs to find another man, she went back to bed and tried to catch the rest of that dream.
&nb
sp; She was up early the next morning. Her arms and shoulders were sore, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She dressed in a pair of yoga pants and tank top and took a run before breakfast. By the time she got back to the club, people were out and about and once again she felt like a monkey at the zoo. All she needed was for them to start throwing popcorn at her. She was hungry, though, and happy when she found Blair in the kitchen. So far, Wolf’s old lady had been the only female at the club who had even made eye contact with her. The rest of them stared but turned their heads when she looked back at them.
“Good morning, Beck. Would you like some breakfast?”
“Yes, I’m starving.”
“I’m sure you know where everything is by now, but if you can’t find something, holler.” The club members were very “help yourself” in the mornings. It was the evenings when the ones that didn’t have a home of their own on the property, or an old lady to cook for them, gathered together for a meal of whatever the club girls had put together. Beck didn’t join them. She wasn’t interested in fraternizing with any of them. She grabbed something to eat on the way home from the gym, and only snuck into the kitchen in the mornings.
“Thanks.” Beck poured herself a cup of coffee and then went over and stepped into the pantry. She was trying to decide between oatmeal and cold cereal when she heard someone say:
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in bed. Where’s Charlie?” She wasn’t all that interested in the conversation until she heard the reply:
“Bruf had to go out early this morning and Charlie took Mason to the bakery for breakfast. I got lonely.”
This was it finally. She was going to get a look at Bruf’s old lady. She still hadn’t seen him with anyone, but she was sure he had someone since he was rarely around the club. She preferred to think that he was busy with his old lady than that he just didn’t want her. She peeked out the door of the pantry and her eyes widened when she saw the girl that Blair was talking to. For one thing, she seriously looked like a girl. Beck wondered how old she was. She was blonde and pretty and petite...if not for the giant, swollen belly, she could have passed for thirteen. Bruf had a bun in the oven. A slightly irrational shot of envy and anger filled her bloodstream. Bruf was with this woman and they were expecting a child...a legitimate child, one that Bruf was obviously anxious to claim as his own. Yet he was almost over-anxious to let the one he had with her remain anonymous. Blair looked over at Beck before she had a chance to duck back inside and said:
“Beck, have you met Sabrina?”
“No.” Beck saw the look on Sabrina’s face change when she looked at her. What was that? Did Bruf tell her about us?
The girl actually stood, and with one hand on her back she came toward Beck...with a smile now pasted on her face. “I’m glad to finally meet you,” she said, holding out her other hand.
Beck didn’t want to touch her, but as usual, everyone in the place was watching. She was beginning to realize it was impossible to do even the smallest thing around this club without ten people noticing. She took Sabrina’s hand and shook it, probably a little harder than she should have. “Glad to meet you,” she said. She dropped Sabrina’s hand and said, “I gotta run.”
“Rebekah, can we talk, for just a minute?”
Shit. Beck looked over at Blair. Blair seemed to be trying to convey something to her with her eyes. With an irritated sigh she said, “I really only have a minute.”
“Okay,” Sabrina said, “can we step in the pantry?”
The pantry? What the fuck? “Fine.” Beck turned back around and stepped into the closet-like space. Sabrina stepped inside too and pulled the door closed behind her. Beck didn’t like confined spaces and she already imagined that it was hard to breathe. “I need to make this quick,” she said, again.
“I just wanted to tell you that Bruf told me, about your child. He and I talked about it and I told him that I agree with you...”
“Wait...what? You agree with me?”
“Yeah,” she said, resting a hand on her belly. “I almost gave my first child up for adoption. I believe strongly that if I had done that, I would have to be in a place where I could at least check in and make sure he was doing okay. Maybe telling her the truth isn’t the best idea...I don’t know, that’s not my decision. None of it is, I know. But I completely understand your need to find her and to know that she’s okay. That’s why he hired Hunter.”
“Who?” Beck was following her until she said something about Bruf hiring someone...like she was supposed to know.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed Bruf had told you.”
Beck sighed and said, “Could we just get to the point? I’m late.”
“Sorry. Bruf hired a man who does investigations for the club. His name is Hunter and he’s from Boston. He asked Hunter to find your daughter so that you and he could know she’s doing okay. I’m sorry he didn’t tell you himself. He’s been so busy lately...”
“Yeah, he’s been too busy to think about his other kid for the past nine years, so no biggie. If you’ll excuse me now...” She started to brush past the pregnant girl but was surprised when Sabrina stepped up against the door.
“No! I will not excuse you. If I have the story straight, you made the decision to give that child up without even consulting him. So, you do not get to talk shit about him now. Here, after my father treated you more like you were his kid than he did me, and then find out you fucked my old man, I’m trying to extend an olive branch to you...”
“Oh, fuck! Sabrina...fuck. You’re Coyote’s Sabrina?”
The blonde girl frowned. “Yes. Coyote was my father. He was a piss-poor one, maybe because he felt closer to you all along.”
Beck laughed. “Fuck. What a crazy fucking world we all live in.”
“Whatever; back to what I was saying...”
“He was crazy about you. I was so jealous of you. I wanted him to be my father. I didn’t want much more than I wanted that. When he told me about you, and how beautiful and how smart and sweet you were...God, I hated you.”
Sabrina looked confused. “He told you about me?”
“Yeah, he wasted a good three or four letters on you. Look, I have to go. I’m glad Bruf took me seriously and is looking for our kid. I’m sorry I was a bitch about it. Wolf has the letters...oh, fuck, Wolf is your brother...damn, that’s weird. You look so...it’s like finding out that Barbie and the Wolf Man were related.” Sabrina’s lips twitched at that and Beck went on. “Anyway, he has the letters. If you don’t believe Coyote thought the world of you and felt like shit for not being there for you, you should read them. I have to go though, now. Really.” Sabrina opened the door behind her and stepped out of Beck’s way. Beck was breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn’t had to physically remove a pregnant girl, when she caught Blair’s eye. Blair looked as relieved as she did. Beck smiled at her. It didn’t insult her when people looked at her like she might be capable of doing crazy things. It amused her, and right at that moment she needed just a little bit of amusement in her life.
An hour later Beck was at the gym looking at the gear Jacob had told her to put on. She could already feel the adrenaline snaking its way through her veins and she didn’t even know whom she was sparring with yet. She was just glad for the chance to train with a live opponent. The day before she’d left the gym with the idea that Jacob maybe regretted his decision and he was too much of a gentleman to let anyone hit her.
She was in a pair of comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. She wrapped up her hands and feet with Ace wraps, popped in her mouth gear, and strapped on the headgear. Feeling ten pounds heavier, she made her way out of the locker room and toward the octagon in the corner. Jacob was waiting for her.
“You look good. You ready to spar?”
“Hell yeah. How’d you find someone willing to do it?” He had expressed to her more than once that the guys on his team were all hesitant to fight a girl, no matter how in-shape that girl might be.
“He v
olunteered, actually. I just hope you’re not intimidated when you see him.”
Beck snorted and rolled her eyes. “Right, that’ll be the day.” Jacob smiled and opened the door to the octagon. Beck started to step in and then came to a dead stop and felt a little dizzy when she saw her opponent waiting for her.
“Something wrong?” Jacob asked.
Beck shook off her surprise and said, “No...everything’s cool.” Jacob stepped in behind her and closed the door.
“Okay, I’ve talked to you about sparring all week, Beck,” Jacob said. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” he said to her large opponent. They both nodded and Jake sat on the stool against one of the walls and said, “Tap hands and get started.”
Beck stepped to the center of the octagon to face her opponent and trying to keep her voice as low as she could she said, “What the fuck you doing here?”
“Helping you out. You want me to go?”
“What do you know about fighting?”
“I’m ranked 26-2-0 in Thailand.”
“Fucking A,” she said, shaking her head.
“You two gonna fight or talk all day?”
Beck put her hands up and tapped the backs of them against Jace’s. She was fighting the other feelings she had rushing through her body and trying to stay focused...but it was hard. He always smelled so damned...male. And God help her, but she was beginning to find him really attractive. He didn’t have a shirt on and despite the scars, he had just about the sexiest body she’d ever seen too. Damn him. She stepped back and took a deep breath and then she went at him. As soon as she moved forward, Jace moved back; she went right, he went left. He moved fast for a big guy and by the end of the first round she hadn’t gotten one solid hit...and Jace hadn’t thrown a punch. She went over to where Jake was offering them both water and grabbed the bottle. Tipping her head back she opened her mouth and poured the water in, letting most of it end up on her face and running down her neck and the front of her shirt. Jake waited until she finished and then he said: