Angel Ink

by Siobhan Muir

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to speak to Michael or Jeff at the moment, but Luke had been friendly enough and I needed to get to him before Michael told him what I bitch I seemed to be. I reined in my furious vibe and scoped out the large room. Sure enough, Luke stood in the back talking to the big guy with long curly hair wearing the kilt.

  “Hey Luke, could I talk to you?” Both of the bikers turned their attention to me and my neck prickled. Damn, they were intense and there was something otherworldly about them, but Luke nodded and headed my way.

  “Sure, Haley. What’s up?” His response was affable enough but I caught him glancing over my shoulder as if looking for someone.

  “Could I get a ride down to the warehouse store off I-25? If I’m going to be visiting for a while, I need some stuff.”

  His brow wrinkled. “I’m sure we have plenty of items around here. What do you need?”

  I sighed. He was going to be difficult. “Honestly, I need some feminine hygiene products that are kinda specific and I just need a ride down to the warehouse store.”

  “What about Michael or your ‘assistant’?” Luke wore a dry look.

  “My assistant is actually doing work for me for the story I’m working on and Michael is too visible as the VP of the Concrete Angels for me to move around unnoticed. I just want to shop in peace.” Okay, that wasn’t true, but he hadn’t seemed too keen to let me go on my own and I didn’t need a babysitter. “Besides, the last thing a guy wants to do is take his woman shopping for tampons and pads. I just need a ride down there. My girlfriend will give me a ride back.” That was one way to term it.

  He cocked his head and I started to sweat. Would he help me get out of the compound when Jeff and Michael wouldn’t?

  “You’re not running from him, are you?” Luke’s voice had grown cautious.

  “What? No, I’ll be back this afternoon. I just need some stuff. Why?” That prickling sensation I’d gotten when I talked about being bound to Michael came back with a vengeance. Did Luke know something I didn’t?

  He shrugged with apparent indifference, but my gut tightened. “No, reason. It’s just when a woman who’s come in with a biker wants to leave but not with him, I start to wonder if the biker has been a shit and a half.”

  I barked a surprised laugh. “No, Michael hasn’t been a shit. Well, not completely. But he is high profile and I’m trying to keep a low one with this story brewing.”

  Luke nodded. “Okay. I’ll take you down to warehouse store. You sure you don’t need a ride back?”

  I shook my head as I followed him to his bike. “I’m sure. I’ll have too many large items to bring back on a bike. As I said, my friend has a car.”

  “Yeah, okay. And Michael knows about this?”

  “Yup.” He knew I wanted to go, at least. I was surprised and sad he hadn’t followed me, but I’d moved pretty fast and he might have checked in the clubhouse first.

  He handed me a helmet as he strapped on his brain bucket and straddled his bike. I settled behind him and it immediately felt different than riding with Michael. I had no urge to cuddle up to him and kept my hands lightly on his waist as he eased the bike out of the Barn.

  There were a couple of raised eyebrows as we sailed through the gates, but no one stopped us and we headed down the hill toward Fort Collins without issues. It was weird to ride on the back of a bike with someone else. But what was even weirder was that I had gotten used to riding behind Michael and I’d only ridden with him a few times.

  It didn’t take long to make it to the warehouse store despite the crazy drivers and the impatient shoppers. Luke pulled up to the front to drop me off and I thanked him as I handed him the helmet.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?” He raised his eyebrows.

  I shook my head. “Nope, I’m good. I’ll text my friend while I’m doing my shopping. Thanks for bringing me here.”

  He nodded, his eyes narrow. “Do me a favor and text Michael, too, okay? More than likely he’s gonna be worried out of his gourd and need to know you’re all right.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. “I will.”

  “I’m serious, Haley. It’s important.” Luke’s usually jovial face had lost its humor.

  “Okay, Luke. I promise. I’ll do it while I’m in the store.” I meant it and he nodded.

  “All right, then. I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “See you when I see you.” I waved and dug out my wallet to show the door attendants my card as he pulled away.

  I stepped inside the store and headed toward the pharmacy portion. I really did need some feminine hygiene products to take back with me and it would give me time to figure out what to say to Michael so he wouldn’t worry.

  I found the product I was looking for and grimaced at the amount. But hey, I’d never run out of them. Maybe I’d donate half of them to the shelter when I next volunteered. I headed for the check stands, still chewing over what I’d type when my burner phone chirped with an incoming text. I held my breath and opened the phone.

  Truck left at the park-n-ride. Key under the right back fender.

  Relief cascaded through me as I handed my store card to the checker. I typed out a quick thank you and shoved the phone into my pocket. I smiled at the cashier and paid for my item before I headed toward the door. I kept my gaze moving as I pulled out my phone and texted Michael.

  I’m safe. Doing some shopping. Will be back in time for dinner if you still want me there.

  I closed the phone as the greeter checked my receipt and let my gaze slide out the open door. I didn’t think anyone had followed me but someone could be keeping an eye out for me. Who knew if they had cameras with facial recognition. I didn’t see anyone I recognized and stepped out into the sunny day. The wind made it too cold to go without a jacket but the sun warmed me enough to make my walk comfortable.

  I set off across the huge parking lot toward the bridge over the freeway. I’m sure I cut quite a sight. Nothing says sexy like a woman carrying a big ass package menstrual pads under her arm as she hoofed it across the freeway. The wind made things exciting for a few minutes, but I felt the phone vibrate in my pocket with an incoming text.

  I waited to get across the bridge before I pulled the little gadget out and flipped it open. Michael’s number flashed on the screen.

  Where are you? I’ll come get you. Of course I want you here.

  I shook my head and grimaced.

  Don’t worry about it. I got a ride. I’ll see you tonight.

  I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be satisfied with that answer but it was all I’d give him. I tucked the package of pads tighter under my arm and leaned into the wind as I headed to the park-n-ride on the west side of the freeway. It had been built for smaller communities to catch a shuttle to the Denver airport, but it worked to hide a random truck in amongst the travelers’ vehicles.

  I found the truck and searched out the key, keeping my motions confident so no one questioned why I was taking the vehicle. Most of the people in the parking lot were either waiting for arrivals or hoping to board a shuttle south. I found the key and opened the passenger side door to deposit both my jacket and the pads.

  I strode around the little blue and white truck and slid into the driver’s side. The inside smelled like stale air and old cloth and foam, but the engine turned over without a complaint. I manually rolled down the window just as the phone rang. I dug it out of my jacket pocket and looked at the number.

  “Tori? What’s up? I got in the truck. Is everything okay?”

  “Haley, you gotta get moving.” Tori’s voice held excitement.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “My source just told me the new ADA is taking a meeting somewhere in the south end of Fort Collins. He just ordered a car to drive himself and he never drives.”

  I frowned. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “Pay attention, lady. This guy was appointed to ADA by the powers-that-be and you k
now who that is.”

  “Backlog.” I whispered the word as I looked around to make sure no one stood near the truck.

  “Yeah, exactly.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “Crown Vic, silver, with Colorado tags, November Juliet Foxtrot double zero forty-seven.”

  “Damn, y’all are specific. But if he’s leaving for Fort Collins, how the heck am I going to spot him? It’s not like he’s driving around with a sign saying “I’m the Denver ADA” on the car.”

  “After the last guy got killed, they installed tracking software in the work phones.” Tori snorted. “I guess they wanted to find the bodies sooner or something. In any case, ADA Mitchem didn’t turn his phone off so my source will let me know where he stops and I’ll text you.”

  I huffed a laugh. “You’re sneaky and diabolical. Tell me, why is your source helping us about this? If they work in the ADA’s office, shouldn’t they want to keep his private life private?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “The source hasn’t told me anything specific, but I get the impression they lost someone pretty close to them because of Backlog. I don’t know if it was to prison or death, but some of the things they’ve said lead me to believe they want to take this group down a notch or two.”

  “Shit.” I threw the truck into reverse and backed out of the parking stall. “Okay, I’ll head south down 287, but I need to have some sort of clue. And here’s the thing. Even if we find out that Mitchem is Backlog, we have no idea how deep this goes or which judges will stand up to them. Hell, they killed an FBI agent and a US Marshal.”

  “Are you getting cold feet?” Tori’s voice had grown cautious.

  “No, but I don’t know what I’ll do with the information once I have it. Will the Bugle even have the guts to publish it?”

  That was my concern. If Backlog was as powerful as we thought, it was going to be difficult to get anyone to talk about them and bring them into the light. I might be sitting on a nuclear bomb of info with no one who’d accept it.

  And if they kill me, no one else will know and they can continue with business as usual.

  I pulled out of the parking lot and chewed my bottom lip. What was I really getting into and was it worth it?

  “You have a good point. I don’t know if the Bugle is big enough to make a dent.” Tori sounded thoughtful, and not the good kind that sends get-well cards when someone’s sick. “What about that guy you know?”

  I blinked. “Guy I know? That really narrows it down, Tori. Granted, I’m not a mover-and-shaker by any means, but I know a few guys. Who are you talking about?”

  “The one at the big parent of our TV affiliate. You said you met him at a news conference in Denver two years ago?”

  My mind immediately filled with an image of Ryan Sutton, investigative reporter, mentor, and middle-aged Asian guy too married to his work to have a family. I suspected he was Ace, but he’d generously taken me under his wing and taught me a few reporting tricks because he’d ‘liked my tenacity and style.’ Well, duh. I totally should’ve remembered him.

  “Oh shit, the boss is coming. I’ll text you when I get the info on the Crown Vic.”

  The click of a dropped call sounded in my ear and I closed the phone. I hadn’t thought of Ryan in a long time, but he’d made a big name for himself in the western news community.

  He’ll definitely have all the contacts and reach.

  I drove out to the main road and headed toward the mountains watching out for cops or motorcycles. Luke and Michael were definitely crafty enough to try to follow me, especially when I hadn’t agreed to their oversight. But the regular traffic on a weekday flowed around me and nothing seemed out of place.

  I reached the 287 turn off when my phone buzzed twice. The first text was from Michael and he didn’t sound pleased with my decision to do things on my own. I sighed and clicked on the next message.

  Crown Vic NJF0047 has GPS and the guy plugged in his destination. Not sure how soon he’ll get there, but it’s an old train car yard in south Fort Collins. Kinda out of the way for the ADA of Denver, yeah?

  I snorted. Maybe a little out of the way, yeah. I made the turn onto 287 and pulled over to the side of the road. This little truck always had a city map of Fort Collins in the glovebox and I pulled it out to look at the locations of the railways. I missed my smart phone with its satellite map access, but I really didn’t want anyone else finding where I was going.

  The train yard sat just east of the warehouse distract so I was able to park the truck next to a building without any external cameras and walk the rest of the way. I had no idea where to find the luxury sedan in the maze of abandoned train cars, but I had to hope I’d get lucky.

  Turned out, I got more than lucky. I wore a sweatshirt I’d found stuffed behind the seat of the truck, a dark brown thing with the University of Wyoming’s bucking bronco on the breast in gold. I threw up the hood to cover my face and hair as I walked in the gravel through the train cars. I almost walked around an older, more ornate carriage when I saw movement.

  Oh shit, it’s another car.

  Panic gripped me and I darted through the gaping doors with scrollwork along the windows. I froze in the space between the seating compartment and storage area, a sort of wood paneled pantry at the end, my heart in my throat.

  The crunch of tires over gravel reached my ears before the engine shut off and car doors slammed. I held my breath as I pressed my back against the storage compartment, but I kept my eyes open despite the urge to close them. I possessed a form of eidetic memory where I could remember every word spoken if I concentrated on it enough. I hoped I’d be able to do that now despite my hammering heart and the fear of discovery.

  Taking a deep breath, I crept through the old train coach, the ancient velvet seats faded and torn, and tried to find the best position to hear any conversation going on outside. Most of the windows had been blown out, either from gun shots or weather, and glass littered the floor and seats. If I wasn’t careful, they’d hear my footsteps through crunching shards.

  Just a little closer.

  I peeked over the edge of one of the windows and found the new ADA standing in front of his car, waiting for someone at the other end. Good place to meet out here in this abandoned yard where the old coaches sit derelict. He looked out of place in his crisp, clean charcoal suit and blood-red tie. If he’s going for subtle, he totally missed the mark. But if he was being courted by Backlog, he had to look the part of an ordinary ADA, powerful and untouchable. I mentally snorted and sank back out of sight to listen. The guy takes more bribes than a Mafioso if that suit’s anything to judge by.

  I settled on my belly in a dusty seat and positioned the phone camera and microphone just over the lip of the broken window just as the men approaching ADA Mitchem stopped. Two guys who looked like the Mafioso thugs I’d been thinking about waited several feet in front of a Lincoln Town car. After a few moments, someone got out and sauntered ahead of the thugs.

  “Why did you have me come all the way out here to meet you, Mr. Butler? Why couldn’t we do this by phone or email?”

  Butler shrugged, but his face never moved at all below the dark sunglasses. “I find it both expedient and prudent to find places where there aren’t any witnesses. Emails and phone calls leave a trail. This way protects all of us. And I prefer to see the faces of my employees when I give them instructions.”

  Employee? I thought the ADA worked for the public and the DA.

  This just confirmed what Tori and I suspected about Backlog. They were a private entity manipulating the system for their benefit, and now it included the ADA of Denver. I’m gonna roast your asses when I get my chance.

  “So, what do you want from me now?”

  Uh-oh, trouble in paradise already?

  “I want you to bring charges against Mayor Rothschild for corruption and embezzlement of public funds.”

  Mitchem gaped. “Rothschild? There’s no evidence of that. If a
nything, the man’s cleaner than an unused diaper.”

  “There will be evidence when you get back to your office. It’ll be waiting for you on your desk.”

  “Then why are we meeting like this? Face-to-face meetings are dangerous. Someone might see us.” Mitchem looked over his shoulder toward the Crown Vic behind him and his nervousness showed through.

  Made me wonder if Mitchem was totally into working with Butler. The other man closed his mouth and icy silence fell over the conversation. Maybe Butler’s wondering the same thing. He stayed silent long enough to make Mitchem fidget.

  “I’m well aware of the risks of meeting in person, Mr. Mitchem. But Rothschild is getting too close like O’Donnell. O’Donnell exposed you indirectly and you don’t need that attention from Rothschild. The consequences can be deadly, as is questioning the instructions. Are you prepared to follow O’Donnell’s footsteps?”

  To my surprise, Mitchem swallowed hard as his gaze skirted over the other men standing behind Butler. Apparently, this guy was a scary mudfucker and the new ADA knew it.

  “No, Mr. Butler, but I’m concerned there’ll be too many questions about why the evidence just suddenly shows up.” Mitchem backpedaled pretty quick, but he made his reasons sound plausible.

  “Don’t worry about questions, Mr. Mitchem. They won’t matter in the long run. Just make sure he’s charged with corruption and embezzling. We’ll do the rest.”

  I gritted my teeth and hoped my phone caught all that. I’d need it as proof when I took on these guys because if they could kill an ADA, manufacture evidence against the mayor of Denver, and threaten the new ADA without breaking a sweat, I’d be dead faster than one could spell the word on the evening news.

  It took every bit of willpower I possessed to remain where I was when the meeting broke up. Did I want to run like hell to get away? Fuck yeah, but they’d see me and the last thing I needed was their attention. I’d get plenty of that once this information got out.