by A. J. Macey
You don’t take out three big players and not paint a giant target on your back.
"Any news on Jace Corden?" I couldn't stop my snarl at his name. The asshole Corden, also known as Demon, gave a bad name to hard working assassins who actually followed the code that was instilled in the hitmen of the underworld. Not only that, but hearing my kittycat's story and the fact that he attempted to kidnap her from right under us set me even more on edge. I felt a manic laugh try to bubble out of me at all the fun things I had planned specifically for him.
"Staying close to his boss," Valerian ground out. He hated Corden more than I did. They had a long and nasty history including Corden raping and killing my mentor's sister two years after I went out on my own. "When I get my bloody hands on that fucking bastard..."
"We'll get him, Val," I cut him off, determination steeling my words. He ground his teeth and nodded, his eyes warming from their cold depths as they always did when he was angry. "Any news on Frankie 'Smokes' or their moves over in the casino?" I redirected the conversation to the mob who operated out of Frankie's casino, Solace.
"It's odd, the Solace mobsters have completely locked down. Obviously, the casino and resort are still up and running to keep any heat off them, but the Casterelli crime family side has locked down tight. Something is going on over there, something no one knows about yet. Whatever it is, it's going to be big."
Well, fuck.
Stone
Garrett and I walked down the concrete path. The warm breeze brushed my face and the sun beat down on my head as we neared the fencing where Nate was overseeing the installation of one of the many new security precautions. My skin felt electrified, our rival MC’s silence putting me on edge. The last time I went through something like this, where it seemed the opposition had backed off, our patrol in Iraq had been ambushed with five fatalities and eleven wounded. If I have anything to fucking say about it, there won't be any fatalities in the club, I mentally growled, rolling my shoulders and clenching my fists.
"You all right?" Garrett gave me a side eye with a single brow raised.
I huffed but didn't respond since we were almost to Nate. Because the answer is no, but I don’t want to hold the damned sharing stick like we’re at summer camp and share my feelings. Nate's burly arms were crossed over his wide barrel chest as he watched the two outside contractors finish testing the motion sensor on the fence.
"Fine, keep brooding all by yourself," Garrett grouched in a soft mumble.
"It doesn't matter," I ground out. "Just concerned about the Alloy Kings. They haven't backed off, but without knowing what they're about to do there is only so much we can prepare for," I answered truthfully as I dug my cell out of my pocket. The vibration and motion sensors now installed on the fence notified all of the officer's phones along with Kiera’s and Chase’s.
"All right, thank you guys," Nate told the contractors, his bushy beard shaking as he nodded his head. The two men shook his hand before leaving the compound in their work truck. My eyes were trained on their white van until they cleared the gate, and only then did I turn my focus to the other officers. "So," Nate started, "we've got the cameras recording 24/7, the fence and barbed wire fixed over at the attack site, and now we have motion sensors and vibration detectors on the fence."
"And the current cameras are getting adjusted so the new ones being added eliminate any blind spots," Garrett added.
"As well as building and house security within the compound, we’re blocking off the exterior of the perimeter fence with trees and other barriers. None of those include the increased security at the front gate with the additional barrier and ID scanner," I tacked on at the end. I ran a hand over my buzzed hair, the prickly strands brushing against the calluses on my palm.
"I have to admit, Kiera did a good job on her security work up. It isn't too hard to see why she's so good at what she does." Nate sounded surprised as he glanced around at the new additions on the other side of the fence; tall trees, shrubs, and bushes lined the desert dirt. It wouldn't necessarily stop a Humvee if anyone wanted to drive it through our fence again, but it was an additional obstacle.
"Yeah," Garrett agreed. "She's definitely good at it." I glanced over at him as Nate walked off. Garrett's jaw was clenched tightly, and his fingers flexed.
"What?" I couldn't stop myself from asking despite having refused to answer his question. He sighed as he uncurled his fists.
"Just worried about Kiera and everything that's going to come down," he mumbled, his eyes avoiding looking at me. "She's been through a lot of shit, and I knew this fight was coming, but I don't know if I could stomach seeing anything happening to her." His admission was like a punch to the gut. Chase and Garrett, hell even Kiera, had hinted at her past, but I hadn't been able to get them to really tell me what had happened.
"What happened to Kiera?" I found myself asking. Garrett didn't immediately clam up like Chase did, but I could see the resistance in the Vice President's eyes.
"A lot of shit, but I think one of the first things that really shaped Kiera into who she is today was the death of her mom, Catherine Costa," he admitted softly.
I knew there was more to the story and more within her past because no one was that angry or that fueled on revenge unless they had really been burned. I know from experience, I grumbled.
"What else?" I pressed. "What did Frankie 'Smokes' do to earn such hatred from her?" Garret looked over to me, his face flushed in anger.
"I'm not going to go over that right now, but it's about time you and Brooks finally know," he sighed. "It's something you need to see to really understand."
Confusion flooded me. Need to see? I didn't understand, but at that point Nate was on his way back with Brooks in tow, ready to walk through our next moves so I couldn't question Garrett's odd phrasing.
"All right." Brooks nodded, looking over the fence in approval. "Kiera and Chase are looking into contacts to see what they can find on what the Alloy Kings are up to. Have we heard anything out of them or our contact?" I gritted my teeth, something didn't feel right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Entire empires and gangs didn't just disappear or go underground like this.
"We have a drop coming up," Garrett reminded us. "Do we want to have it play as a decoy to see if we can draw them out?" I thought it over, unsure whether it would be our best plan. Logistically, it made sense, but our dealers were starting to run low, so I wasn't sure how long we could push off the actual drop. I explained my concerns quickly, the other officers nodding.
"How about we do the drop the same day, just a different location?" Nate suggested. "Keep the usual drop location the same as a decoy but conduct the drop at another spot. Kiera and Chase could keep an eye on the dummy spot." I bit my tongue, the side of me that was wary of everyone and everything yelling at me that it was a terrible idea to leave two outsiders in charge of surveillance, but I held it back.
"I'll go with them," I offered. It was a good plan, and if I was there, I could keep an eye on both of them and see if there was any reason to be suspicious. The other side of me, the one that was warming up to Kiera and didn't think she was a threat, didn't argue that point either because we hadn't gotten much time together despite the fact that I somehow agreed to their weird relationship shit. Pretty sure I was insane when I agreed, but not much I can do about it now, I thought.
Or want to.
"Nate, work with our contact on getting the move shifted to a different location. Garrett and I will oversee the last of the additions to security around the compound," Brooks ordered, looking around the group as he spoke. "Stone, pick a location and figure out any security issues with it. After that, work with Kiera on scouting the drop."
I can’t decide if I’m irritated or happy about the decision.
Chapter 6
May 17th
Friday Morning
Kiera
I checked the makeup and powder on my neck for the third time in the cab ride across town. I ensured my sophist
icated makeup and hairstyle were still in place, the healing bruises well covered. The colored ink was covered, my neck as plain as it had been when I was a teenager. Simple eyeliner and mascara surrounded my eyes behind a large pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses, a pale coral pink coated my lips, and my hair was loosely curled and pinned in a half-up-half-down style. Satisfied that I looked the part of rich businesswoman in my black slacks, navy blue blouse, nude colored stilettos, and expensive pearl necklace, I slipped my compact into my designer handbag. How do women do this every day? I would be tuckered out just from getting ready every morning.
I paid the cab driver in cash when he pulled up in front of the Nevada Museum of Art and slipped out gracefully. My heels clicked against the sidewalk and tiled flooring as I entered the glass front doors. Slipping my sunglasses off and into their hard carrying case, I paid the ten bucks for my entrance in cash. My attention darted from one piece to the next as I started to flit leisurely around the building. I was here for two purposes, but the first reason was my focus right now— to get an eye on the piece I needed to steal.
After a few minutes of wandering through the exhibit it was supposed to be in, I found it. The old document was in a thick glass case and propped open on a book pedestal. I quickly noted the security precautions of the room: cameras, motion detectors, sensors and alarms on the cases themselves, and one guard who was wandering around the large room. To not raise suspicion, I moved on to look over other pieces, all of which I saw without really seeing.
Glancing at my Rolex, I noted I had less than a minute until I would need to be at the museum's current exhibit of Aboriginal Australian Memorial Poles. I made my way over to the colorful masts in an unhurried fashion, unwilling to draw attention to myself. I only had to wait a few moments until the second reason I was here appeared. The person I was waiting for stepped up next to me a few seconds after I situated myself within the room.
"Fascinating exhibit, is it not?" he questioned softly. Elliot Cavanaugh, another thief known as Phantom, was tall and towered over me at six foot five. His nearly turquoise eyes took in the pieces around us. A black suit covered his lean muscled frame, and his red curls were tamed with a small amount of gel.
"One could definitely think so," I answered with a hum of agreement. His sharp aqua eyes glanced down at me, the carved features of his face giving him an almost elf-like quality. I smiled softly; it had been close to two years since I had seen Elliot, and he didn't look any older than on our last job together in Moscow. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Reverent," I murmured quietly. "It has been quite some time. We should catch up soon." Our own unique code hid within my words as I informed him that we would need to meet again to discuss our business more in-depth.
"As you wish, Ms. Tom." His southern twang was barely noticeable in his statement. "How about we meet for tea this Sunday at the normal time?" His responding code was an answer of setting a meet in our usual location on top of the tea and spice shop within town. "It has truly been a pleasure to meet with you again," he murmured, grabbing my hand. Bringing it to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles as an excuse to hand-off a small piece of paper into my palm. I smiled and gave a tiny dip of my head in response before watching him start toward another painting. Knowing his usual pattern, he would stay for approximately one minute after I left before following.
But before I could exit, something caught my eye out of the corner of my gaze. A pair of bubblegum pink lips and blonde hair. My brow furrowed as I looked over to the corner where a woman had just curved around into a different hallway. I found myself following, disregarding that I was supposed to be exiting the building, but when I turned the corner, there was no one within the space. She can't be here, I told myself glancing over to where I thought I had seen the bimbo bitch. Bambi can't be here, I reasoned, she was run out of Reno after betraying the club. Despite the reassurances I gave myself, there was a prickle of nerves at the back of my neck. A sense of dread flowed over me as I finally made myself leave the museum, my eyes darting around me as I got into the cab that waited at the curb.
You're just stressed, I told myself as my attention went back to the museum. No one was there, but sure enough, as the cab started to turn around the corner I thought I saw Bambi again, standing within the door's threshold. It's not her, there are a lot of blondes within Reno. I repeated the thought until I calmed pulling up in front of my gated circular drive.
Now to get out of this uncomfortable get-up.
Later that day, right as the sun started to set, I had taken off the makeup and changed into my normal attire of cut-off shorts and cut up shirt-turned-tank. The braid whipped around my back as I pulled into the main parking lot on the compound. They were in the process of finalizing the front gate’s additional security when I arrived, so I spent a bit of time looking it over before riding the five minutes to the clubhouse. There were a few members and a few hang-arounds lounging within the bar. Cheryl's blonde perm bounced along with her boobs as she poured drinks behind the counter. I slipped into my usual seat and picked up the lowball of whiskey Cheryl had set down for me as I walked over. I had just taken a small sip when three familiar, judgmental faces appeared in my peripherals. Glancing over, I cocked a brow at three of the Old Ladies unashamedly meeting their stares.
"Can I help you?" I finally asked, growing irritated at their attention. Leah, Haley, and Olivia were all dressed similarly in tight clothing or short dresses. Leah and Olivia both wore more toned down makeup while Haley, queen of the trio, sported bright pink lips and intense winged eyeliner. How does one even do eyeliner like that? Witchcraft, right? It has to be witchcraft.
"Just hadn't seen you at the party last week." Haley's soft-toned voice was barely loud enough to hear over the lull of talking from the other patch holders and scantily clad women. "Wasn't sure where you had scurried off to." She shrugged and took her drink from Cheryl, some pink martini looking girly drink that was probably mostly sugar and not liquor.
How did someone so girly end up the wife of a motorcycle gang member?
"I've been around," I responded taking another sip of my drink as I turned to face Cheryl. I choked back a laugh at the bartender who rolled her eyes dramatically at the three wives next to me, barely able to keep it contained. Cheryl saw my tiny curled smile and gave me a small thumbs up in a very Nate fashion. "Just helping with security and all that."
"Ah," Olivia drawled. "So you're the reason for all the new shit going up around here." I chuckled, both at her assumption and at her absolutely awful orange spray tan that seemed to just get more orange every time I saw her.
"Actually, it's because of the Alloy Kings," I corrected. "I just gave Brooks a list of suggestions that would help make it safer."
"They wouldn't have come if it weren't for you," Leah muttered under her breath, but it was loud enough for me to hear it.
"I'd watch what you say, Leah," Cheryl warned as she leaned forward to glare at the three, "that's Boss', Warden's, and Grave's girl. And if you piss her off, I don't think they'd give two shits if she punched all three of you." They scoffed, Haley's pink painted nails waving in front of her.
"What we're saying is true," Haley argued, continuing to talk about me with Cheryl as if I wasn't even sitting here. Rude. "If she wasn't here, Jace Corden wouldn't be coming after the club"—she finally turned to look at me—"so this is her fault."
I felt my fury spike at her words and at hearing that bastard's name. She did not just go there, I downed my drink and stood up.
Time to put a bitch in her place.
Brooks
I flopped back in my chair with a sigh. Nothing was found during my initial web search and now my search on the dark web would take at least a few hours to hopefully cough up what I was looking for—what exactly Frankie 'Smokes' did to Kiera. There was a lot of dirt on a lot of people floating around the dark side of the Internet, and since Kiera hadn't told us yet, I found my curiosity growing too intense to ignore. Cracking my neck t
o loosen the cramped muscles, I stood up and stretched my stiff legs. Fuck, I growled. realizing it was later than I thought and Kiera would be arriving at the compound at any time. I tossed my cut on and headed out of my house toward the bar.
The cooling evening air was starting to blow through with the slowly setting sun, and I had to run my hand through my hair to keep it out of my eyes. It was getting long enough that it was going to need a trim soon, I noted. When I neared the outdoor area and the bar, several patch members, Old Ladies, and hang-arounds gave me respectful nods, handshakes, or waves. All of which I returned, of course.
"If she wasn't here, Jace Corden wouldn't be coming after the club, so this is her fault." I felt my blood boil as Charlie's Old Lady Haley insulted my baby. Kiera slammed her drink before standing up in front of the woman. Oh, shit. Realizing Kiera was about to fuck her up, I strode over to them. My anger continued to build as I saw Kiera's harsh scowl. What else have they been saying to her?
"I suggest you hold whatever it is you're about to say," I ordered sharply. Standing tall, I glowered down at the three women, all of whom paled at my presence. "What is the first rule?"
"Respect first," they mumbled in unison, all three sets of eyes dipping to the ground. I wanted to scream at them, but I kept the urge under control.