Mouse Trapped

by Manda Mellett

  Well, great. The whole club knows. Drummer’s standing in the entrance to the kitchen, he looks over, meeting my eye. “Mouse, Drew. My office. Now.” As he stomps past me he pauses. “We need the prospect?”

  “Nah. He’s already briefed me.”

  Drummer goes behind his desk. “So, someone’s on the lookout for you, Drew, or perhaps Mariana’s the target if they don’t know what’s happened to her. Let’s go through the obvious first. D’you know if your sister owed money? Left a bill unpaid?”

  Drew shakes his head adamantly. “Ma never wanted to draw any attention to herself. All the utilities were prepaid. Even the trailer rent’s paid up until the end of next month. She never borrowed money.”

  Prez presses his lips together. As he goes to question Drew again, I stop him. “Matt tells me you got a letter that put you in a bit of a state. Care to tell us what it was?”

  As an answer, he reaches into his pocket and passes it over. “It’s from, or supposed to be from, Mariana.”

  Taking it, I slide the paper out of the envelope. “You think it’s not?” As I read it, at first it seems like an excited letter from a sister who’s reunited with her father. A relative her opinions seem to have done a one-eighty of. Credible, perhaps. She could hardly remember her days in Colombia, relying on her mom’s word about why she left. After I read it, I pass it to Drummer.

  If Devil hadn’t warned us this Procurer fucker was after his son, we might have taken it at face value. But armed with that information, the letter sounds wrong.

  “It’s the signature,” Drew interrupts my thoughts and Drummer’s perusal. “She’s Ma to me, not Mariana. She’d never sign a letter anything else. And we only ever called Mom, Mom. And Father wasn’t even Dad, let alone Papa. Mariana wouldn’t change that. Not when she’s addressing me. Someone else wrote it. Had to have done.”

  “It says she wants you to visit, to get to know your father,” Drummer sums up. His eyes flick to mine.

  Drew’s eyes fill with tears. “Mariana would never have told anyone where I was living.” His excitement at the car chase seems to have faded. “If my father forged the letter, he also got my address out of her.” His gaze meets mine. “What if they’ve hurt her, Mouse? What if I’d been at the trailer…”

  “They trashed the trailer, presumably looking for clues as to where Drew is. It would have been obvious no one’s living there now,” I inform Drummer, the piece of the puzzle he doesn’t yet know. Then I fix my gaze on Drew, and place my hand on his shoulder, my fingers squeezing momentarily. “You weren’t there. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Prez pulls his shoulders back and fixes his stare on the kid. “We,” he corrects, pointing at me. “Mouse is your legal guardian. That makes you part of the club. One of ours. And we protect our own. Matt did good getting you out of there today. No one’s going to take you and force you to do something you don’t want to. Not when every man in this club is at your back.”

  Drew’s eyes widen. His stunned expression making me remember all he’s ever had to rely on before was Mariana. He looks overcome for a moment. All he can stammer out is, “Thanks, Drummer.”

  “As for your sister,” Prez continues as though he hadn’t spoken. “She was probably tricked in some way. Don’t worry yourself too much. My bet is that your father will try to use her to tempt you to Colombia.” Now he lightens his voice. “I hear fried chicken’s on the menu. After the excitement you’re probably hungry. Why not go and get something to eat?”

  I almost laugh when Drew licks his lips. Yeah, Prez understands how to distract a teenage boy.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” My words echo Drummer’s. Subtle instruction to leave us alone.

  When the door has closed behind him, I turn over the envelope I hold in my hands. “They might have fucked up, Prez. There’s a postmark on it. Bit indistinct, but I’ll see what I can do to sharpen it up.”

  “Won’t give us a precise location, but the area could be a start.” Prez strokes his beard, I give him time. He stands, his body flanked by the large Satan’s Devils flag which hangs behind his desk. “Liaise with Devil, will you?” His comment is unnecessary. That was the first thing I was going to do.

  Drummer paces, then halts. “I’m going to speak to Matt. See if he’s certain he lost him.”

  “Prospect seemed pretty certain he had.”

  “Nevertheless, got to beef up security, Mouse. Don’t want any fucker getting near the compound.”

  “What about Drew going to school? He’ll be vulnerable. They could snatch him off the campus.”

  Suddenly Drummer swings around and leans his hands on the desk. “Don’t like not knowing where and when they are going to hit. If there’s just one, or more. Could Mariana’s father have contacts he can call on? If he’s working with the Herreras, we could have trouble on our hands.”

  The Herreras are the crime family in Tucson, with links to Los Zetas, the cartel. Prez has made a good point. If they’re in bed with El Procurador, we could be in a heap of trouble.

  “I’ll speak to Devil. He might know if there’s any connection. I’ll also do some diggin’ myself.”

  “If they’re not, and we’ve got a lone fucker or two trying to get their hands on the boy? I don’t like letting shit just happen. I like to be in the driver’s seat. Kid’s reliable, seen that already. Your woman brought him up right. All the shit that’s gone down? He’s handled it. We get him covered, then let them approach him. We’ll bring ‘em back here and get them to give us some info.”

  Closing my eyes, I picture what Prez is suggesting. Snapping them open, I reply, “Don’t like putting the kid in danger. But it could help get information on the precise location Mariana’s being held.” The postmark could help some, but not the detail. I’ve enough confidence in my brothers that they’ll make any man we capture speak.

  “Find out what we might be up against, Mouse. But if we can rule out them getting help from the Herreras, that’s the course of action I’d prefer. Fuck with them, before they fuck with us. And Drew? That kid doesn’t go off the compound unless we’ve got brothers as well as a prospect with him.”

  I’m calm until I enter my office and shut the door. Then I kick over both of the chairs in front of me. My chest is heaving, my warrior blood warring with the white man inside, telling me instead to keep calm, to do my job. Do what I can to find her and trust that Drummer’s instinct is right, that she was tricked in some way. The alternative that she was tortured is too terrible to consider. In frustration, I pull the tie holding my hair back, allowing my long hair to flow free. Shaking with frustration that I don’t have an enemy in front of me.

  What did they do to Mariana to get her to betray Drew’s address? Nah, Mouse, don’t go there. Focus.

  Mariana had nothing except her purse with her when she was arrested, Drew brought nothing but clothes and what few bits a teenage boy thought he needed. My suspicions are there’s probably a wealth of information stored in that trailer. Reports, letters, shit that would divulge all manner of information, such as the school he attends. Maybe the football club he goes to. Maybe more, I don’t know. I doubt if the kid does either, moms take care of that shit.

  Mariana wouldn’t have willingly given him away. Even Drew knows that. I know it intuitively. She was scared to go back, I don’t for one second believe that her father’s turned loving. The shit we’ve dug up on him points to him being anything but. Mariana’s only a means for him to get hold of his son.

  Is she hurt? My palms grasp either side of my head as I try to suppress my roar of frustration. I don’t know what’s happening to her. Even whether she’s still alive.

  I inhale a deep breath and hold it, then slowly let it out. And repeat. My heart rate starts to return to normal, my brain begins to work. Going around the other side of my desk, I sink into my seat and pick up the phone while simultaneously getting a search running.

  Devil agrees to investigate any of El Procurador�
�s links to the US. I can’t blame him for not immediately knowing, but I just wish we had some answers for once. The next couple of hours I spend trawling the darkest depths of the web, but nowhere can I find a link between Los Zetas, the Herreras, and El Procurador. In truth, I hadn’t expected to find one, suspecting it more likely they’re in competition with each other. I hardly expect cartels to meet up and exchange working practices. But Drummer was right to ask me to make sure. We need to know what we’re up against, and if we can’t find that, at least who we’re not. If the crime family or the cartel had their sights on Drew it would be a different ball game. Hopefully we’re only dealing with a couple of men.

  Just as I’ve reached that conclusion, whoever it is is acting alone, Devil calls back to tell me he’s found the same. His contacts in the CIA and FBI were unable to find anything that showed Los Zetas or the Herreras were linked with El Procurador.

  When I tell him we’re planning to use Drew as bait, he wants to be involved. Prez won’t mind the invitation I extended for him to come to the compound, he’s been here often enough before.

  After I’ve updated Drummer with Devil’s involvement he calls an emergency church for that evening. Having sharpened up everything on the envelope, I now know it was posted from Villavicencio, the capital of the Meta department. It doesn’t narrow anything down, being a huge area of over thirty-three thousand square miles. By the time I’ve looked everything up and am thoroughly despondent, members are passing my door heading into church. I go to join them.

  Having flown up from San Diego, Devil’s already arrived and has taken the spare seat that’s been placed alongside Joker. Prez starts the meeting. When the scarred man waggles his fingers, Drummer nods for him to speak.

  “I suspect Mariana’s been tricked,” he addresses himself to me. “It’s notoriously difficult to send a letter in Colombia, let alone one going to a foreign country. It’s not unheard of to be asked to provide two forms of identity for the slightest thing. If she wrote to Drew, she’d need help sending the letter. It’s not a case of putting it in a post box. In fact, there are virtually none of those at all.”

  “So she trusted the wrong person? Her letter was intercepted?”

  “That makes sense to me. She’ll want to contact Drew, to let him know what’s going on and where she is. She obviously can’t get access to a phone, so maybe tried snail mail instead.”

  “Or,” I put in. “She could have been tortured.”

  No one contradicts me. We can’t rule it out.

  “El Procurador seems fixated on finding his son. I may know the reason for that.” Devil’s got everyone’s attention. “He’s visited a specialist. Seems he’s being treated for cancer. It may have reminded him of his mortality.”

  “Dying?” I ask, hopefully.

  “Seems not,” the man from England replies, his accent sounding odd around our table. “It’s in an early stage and odds are it’s treatable, but it may make grooming his son, presumably to take over, more of a priority. He won’t want to waste time that, if the treatment doesn’t work, he may not have.”

  “Can we track him from his medical records?” I ask. I hadn’t found those.

  “No. He went to Bogotá, the capital of Colombia. Received treatment and listed his hotel address as his residence.”

  Rapping the gavel, Drummer takes the floor, and updates everyone on the man, or men, who were following Drew, and the proposed plan to turn the tables on them.

  Dollar removes his glasses and polishes them on his shirt. “Have you considered they might be plain old debt collectors?”

  I raise my chin. “Unlikely. Why trash the TV and not take it? And Drew seems pretty certain it’s not, and I believe him. Mariana did everything by the book. Never took out loans or bought things on credit.”

  “I’m taking this seriously.” Devil leans forward with his elbows on the table. “It’s worth a shot. If they are El Procurador’s men, they may have information we can squeeze out of them.” One side of his face turns up, I suspect the other would, but the scar keeps it in place. “I’d prefer the Satan’s Devils handled it, and not just because you’ve got what they want. Nowadays the FBI has to be more, shall we say, circumspect, on how they get information.”

  A chuckle goes around the table.

  “There won’t be much left,” Drummer promises.

  No, there won’t. That’s my kid they’re after. My kid? It’s at that point I realise just exactly how much I’m invested in Mariana’s brother, as well as the woman herself. It prompts me to say, “The priority is keeping Drew safe.”

  “We’ll all be there, Brother,” Drummer promises with a snarl. His expression questioning why I should think anything less.

  Receiving chin lifts from all my brothers, silent promises of support, I start to feel more positive. We will pull this off. “When?”

  “That’s the six-million-dollar question. Sorry, Brothers, but we’ll have to give Drew a tail from now on, not knowing when or where they’ll try to take him. We don’t change anything, don’t want to draw suspicion. Prospect will drive with him as normal. No extra shit like escorting him to the door.”

  I frown, thinking. “He’s got football practice, hasn’t he? If they’re watching him, I reckon that’s when they’ll try to take him. Less people around than when school lets out.”

  “Good point, Mouse. That’s when I’d make a move. Normally he gets collected, but he’s unprotected while he’s there. Tomorrow we’ll keep out of sight, but we’ll be there in force.” Prez breaks off, his gaze landing one by one on his men. “All of us.”

  Now he’s the focus of nods of agreement.

  There’s a flicker of excitement inside me. Of course, this could all be for nothing, but at least we’re doing something positive when we get down to thrashing out a plan.

  It’s toward the end of the meeting when I realise Paladin’s been particularly quiet. Drummer raises the gavel to bang it, when our youngest member speaks. “Prez?”

  Putting down the gavel again, Prez nods his permission to speak. “What is it?”

  Paladin’s lips press together, then relax. “I know you haven’t found a link with the Herreras. Worries me there might still be one. This Procurador fucker might be able to call on favours, even though they’re not known for working together. I’m worried about them finding out Drew’s on the compound, coming to get him. And taking Jayden too.”

  “Bit of a stretch there, Brother,” Peg scoffs.

  Slick, though, is sitting forward. “Hold it right there, Peg. Don’t dismiss it lightly. We all know it’s only a matter of time before the Herreras come to collect. I, for one, don’t want Jayden here if they decide to do so.”

  The Herreras had been the ones responsible for grooming and raping Jayden two years earlier when she was just fourteen. The men who took part all died at the hands of the Satan’s Devils, with the then head of the family’s blessing. Old Leonardo Herrera hadn’t wanted the crime family to be involved with a child grooming ring. But Leonardo’s gone now, and the new head, Javier, has let it be known he wants revenge. We’ve been given the nod he wants to get his hands on Jayden, take something valuable from us. We’re determined that won’t happen.

  Prez pulls at his beard. “It’s the ‘don’t knows’ that concern me. We know someone’s coming for the boy, we’re already providing cover for Jayden. That’s stretching us thin. Jayden’s carrying on as normal, going to school, isn’t she, Slick?”

  “We’re doing what we can to keep Jayden safe, Prez. Paladin’s her shadow the whole time. Anywhere she fuckin’ goes. Takes her to school and back. When she goes out with her friends to the mall or movies.” Slick looks worried. Jayden’s his pregnant wife Ella’s young sister.

  Joker grins. “That’s what you want to do, isn’t it, Paladin? Not let her out of your sight?”

  “No, it’s not,” Paladin snarls at Joker. “Girl’s got a right to live a normal life. Think she’s getting sick of the sight of me. It�
�s not like we’re allowed to be boyfriend and girlfriend. I’m spending all my time watching her, making no other contribution to the club except for the few hours when she’s in school.”

  Slick passes his hand over his bald head. “Jayden’s starting to rebel. She likes Paladin’s company, sure, but is becoming suffocated. If it’s not him, it’s another brother keeping an eye on her.” He pauses, looks around the table. “I’m grateful for the help. But I worry it’s only a matter of time before she, or we, slip up. Don’t want to risk leaving her exposed, not when we know the Herreras have the hots for her. If we’re going to be protecting Drew too, I agree with you, Prez, could be consuming too much manpower.”

  Prez pauses before answering Slick, then sighs. “I see your point, Slick, Paladin. I don’t trust the Herreras as far as I could fuckin’ throw them. We know they’ve set their sights on taking Jayden.”

  “Then I want to take her away,” Paladin states firmly. “Like we’ve talked about before. If there’s a sniff of trouble, I want to act before it becomes a bad fuckin’ smell.” Paladin looks eager. Though he was instructed to be hands-off, since the night we rescued Jayden from the fuckers who were raping her and brought her back to the compound, he and the girl have been inseparable. It was how he got his handle, she’d looked at him as though he were her knight in shining armour. The feeling appears to be mutual, wherever she goes, he’ll be determined to go too. But not as her club appointed shadow. Once he’s away from the compound, they’ll both believe the shackles have been removed. But the kid’s sixteen now, perhaps it’s time. Although where Slick and Ella are concerned, it will be hard to see her as anything but a little girl.

  Slick leans forward, his head hitting the table, before he straightens back up. “Much as I hate to say it, I agree with Paladin. Kid’s got no chance of a normal life here in Tucson. That’s what I’ll have to discuss with Ella. You’ve already agreed with Hellfire, Prez, that if it came to it, they could both go to Colorado. At least there she can act like a teenage girl and not be followed wherever she goes.”