by Joanna Wylde
Men grunted in agreement, and I sat back, deep in thought. Duck had been goin’ on about the CIA for decades, and it used to be we tuned him out. Recent years had proved him right, though. Time and again they’d been caught out doing business with the cartels, until I hardly noticed when the news reported another incident. I guess their theory was pick a partner and back them against all comers, because some influence over the drug trade was better than none?
Throw in legalization and things got even weirder.
“It settled, then?” Shade asked. “We go in together, take out select leadership targets in a coordinated attack. Anyone got a problem with that plan?”
Silence.
“Then we got some other business to discuss,” Hunter said, startling me. Given we’d been in here talkin’ for the past four hours, seemed like there wasn’t much potential left for uncovered ground.
“What’s that?” Shade asked.
“It’s about London Armstrong.”
I sat up and caught his gaze, jaw tensing.
“Christ, not enough you’re fuckin’ my daughter?” I asked. “Now you gotta climb into my bed, too? Not club business how I handle my woman, so back the fuck off.”
Hunter shook his head slowly, eyes holding mine, not giving an inch. God damn, but I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. Probably too late now, what with the baby and all …
“Not when it’s part of this war,” he said. “And she’s right in the middle of it.”
“That’s a serious charge,” Duck growled. I felt Gage behind me as he pushed off the wall, coming to stand next to my chair.
“I’m not sayin’ she’s a spy,” Hunter started. “But I did some diggin’ on her. There’s things about her you don’t know, deep shit. Could be she’s an innocent woman in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could also be you’re sleepin’ with the cartel. Needs to be addressed.”
Gage put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tight.
“Since when are you interested in who I’m sleepin’ with?” I asked. “Thought we were allies. You spyin’ on me?”
Hunter shook his head.
“Your daughter loves you for reasons that occasionally confuse me, so I’m tryin’ to show a little respect,” he said slowly. “I know this shit with you and London is recent, but there’ve been rumors for a while now. Heard you let her walk into the Armory and pull out a girl, all with your blessing. That shit’s not normal and it got me thinkin’. Did a little background work on your girl. You aware that her cousin is shacked up with the cartel’s number two man north of the border?”
I froze.
“Explain,” Shade snapped.
“She’s been with him for more than a year now,” Hunter said. “Guess he’s married to some poor bitch down in Mexico, but he won’t let her come north to enjoy the good life. Not while he has his pretty girlfriend to play house with … And guess who’s living with him now, too? The daughter. That Jessica kid London’s so protective of is in his house, eatin’ his food and probably tellin’ him all about Auntie London and how much the president of the Reapers comes runnin’ when she calls. Then suddenly—right after you finally close the deal—her house blows up and she needs a hero to rescue her. Now she’s livin’ in your house with full access to whatever the hell you might have hidden there. Still sure she’s innocent?”
I shook my head.
“No way,” I said. “She’s got no clue.”
“You aware that Nate Evans is on the cartel payroll?”
“That’s a fuckin’ joke,” Ruger said quietly. “Nate Evans answers to his daddy, nobody else.”
“I disagree,” Boonie said, which shocked the hell out of me. “We’ve been hearing things in the Valley. The Evans family gets their money from the White Baker mine, and according to the union, it’s near played out. They’re tryin’ to keep it quiet, but you can’t fool the men underground. The ore’s no good. Means Natey-boy needs a new backer if he wants to run the show around here.”
“That’s a game changer,” I said slowly. “Not that I think London’s in on anything, but I had no idea the Evans family was short of cash.”
“Think about it,” Hunter said, his voice quietly intense. “You got an out-of-the-way mountain pass, one the feds don’t watch too close. Cartel wants Montana, the Dakotas—hell, anything between here and Chicago? They gotta get through the mountains somehow and there’s not many places better than right here. Straight shot east, straight shot north. It makes sense strategically, and if they control local law enforcement, they’ve got it made once they take us out. It all starts with you, Pic. London may be a victim who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time, or she may be one of them, but either way she’s dangerous as fuck. You gotta cut her loose.”
I stood so fast my chair fell over backward.
“Not gonna happen.”
Silence fell over the room. Shade sighed.
“Okay, so we got that information,” he said. “It’s on you, Pic. You and the Coeur d’Alene brothers. Now you know, so you use it the best you can. Hell, might be a good thing. You feed her bad intel, see if it gets through. If it does, then we have a way to fuck up their game. Doesn’t really change anything in the end, so long as you keep your shit tight. Might not be a bad idea to put some extra security on her, though. Rest of the women, too, seein’ as things are gonna heat up fast. We all gotta cover our asses.”
I nodded tightly.
“Anyone else?” Shade asked. Nobody spoke. “Okay, then. Hunter, I know you’re standin’ in for Burke, so take time to consult with him if you need to.”
Hunter shook his head.
“Burke’s on board,” he said. “So’s the rest of the club. We’re under fire already—can’t hold out much longer. We want blood.”
“Okay, adjourned,” Shade announced. A quiet murmur broke out, and I felt my brothers surround me. I looked to Ruger.
“Double-check the cousin,” I told him. “I don’t want to believe Hunter, but we gotta know what we’re lookin’ at here.”
“She’s not in on it,” Bolt said quietly. “She didn’t even meet Evans until a couple months ago. I did a full background on her before she started at Pawns.”
“You missed the cousin,” I said.
“She’s a distant relative livin’ a thousand miles away,” he said. “I tracked down all of those, we’d never finish a background check in under ten years. But no way I’d miss a boyfriend, or even a fuck buddy. She met Evans for the first time at a fund-raiser two months ago—talked to one of the bitches on her cleaning crew about it. Listened to her go on about him through the closed circuit one night. She had no idea I was even there.”
“Okay,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “But if they’ve got Jess, they’ve got a hostage she won’t be able to ignore. Let’s confirm where the girl is, okay?”
“You got it,” Ruger said. “Shouldn’t take too long. I’ll make some phone calls, see what I can come up with.”
“And Evans?” Gage asked. “What about him? You think he’s in bed with the cartel?”
“No idea,” I said slowly. “It’s possible. He’s got no morals, no sense of loyalty to the community or the job. You might start thinkin’ of ways to get him off alone, maybe think of a permanent solution to our problems with him.”
Ruger’s mouth tightened, but he nodded.
“Thinkin’ that’s gonna be how it goes,” he said. “Fuckload of trouble, takin’ out a cop.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “We’ll talk about it more at the next church. Gotta say, if it comes to puttin’ a bullet in his brain, I won’t cry. Gage, look into extra security for the girls, too—at least until we know what caused that explosion.”
“Pic, you got a minute?”
I looked up to see Boonie, his face thoughtful. A young man stood next to him—prospect. Had a real hard edge to his face, although I wouldn’t peg his age much higher than nineteen or twenty. Old eyes.
“What’s up?”
“Wanted to introduce you to Puck,” he said, nodding toward the kid. “Been prospectin’ with one of our chapters out in Montana. Things got a little hot for him out there, so he’s moved into the Valley for now. Thought he might be helpful to you.”
I sized him up. Kid was tall with short, dark hair. Built like a fuckin’ Marine, but his tats were all biker. Both arms covered in full sleeves, and a scar running across his face that made him look like an ax murderer.
“What’s your story?” I asked him.
“Grew up in the club,” he said, holding my gaze steadily. “Dad was a patchholder. Dunno if you ever met him? Went by Kroger.”
I nodded my head slowly, because damned straight I knew Kroger. He’d been killed on a run down to Cali, three years back. At the time we assumed it was cartel, but no real evidence.
“Feelin’ motivated, are we?”
“Something like that.”
“We’ll find something for you,” I told him. “Might come out of it with a patch, you do good enough.”
His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read, and he nodded. Boonie and I exchanged back slaps, and I started downstairs. Lotta guys would be heading home this afternoon, but others would be spending another night. Needed to check on food, make sure everything was ready.
Hunter caught my arm on the stairs. I paused and stared down at his hand, because he had no fuckin’ business touching me.
“Think me and Em are gonna head out this afternoon,” he said.
“What, not enough to move her four hundred miles away from me, now I don’t even get to see her for the weekend?”
He frowned and shook his head.
“Not like that—she’s got cramps, feelin’ sick. It’s been smooth sailing so far, but I want her home and in bed.”
I felt something tighten in my chest.
“Let’s take her in to the ER,” I said. “Better not to fuck around with this shit.”
Hunter snorted.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I already suggested it and she laughed at me. She says she’s fine, she went off to get a pedicure with the rest of the girls, but I think she needs to rest, maybe go see her midwife on Monday. We stay here, she’ll wear herself out tryin’ to do everything with everyone.”
“I hear you,” I said, although I hated him for it. “Better be safe. Keep me posted, okay?”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.”
He started down the stairs, the Devil’s Jacks colors on his back taunting me. Asshole.
Asshole who takes care of our little girl, Heather reminded me.
I had to give her that one.
Still didn’t like him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LONDON
“Admit it,” Em said, narrowing her eyes at me. “I was right about the color.”
I looked down at my feet and wiggled my toes, which were now painted hot pink. I wasn’t a hot-pink kind of person, and the toe bling was almost beyond my comprehension … but I had to give her credit.
“You were right,” I admitted. “It looks fantastic. I always go for the traditional look. Never would’ve tried it if you hadn’t bullied me into it.”
She grinned and I laughed, taking a drink of my iced coffee. Me, Darcy, Em, Dancer, Marie, and Sophie had all taken off for the mall after breakfast in search of the perfect pedicure. Surprisingly, Maggs Dwyer had met us there—apparently she’d been Bolt’s old lady for years but had dumped his ass recently. I got the distinct impression he’d done something horrible to her. The women were all clearly pissed at him, but they didn’t offer any details and I didn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss and all that, because I still had to work for the guy at Pawns.
I wasn’t totally comfortable with my brightly painted nails, but if nothing else they were fun and playful. My toes looked like they’d been dipped in a vat of flamingos. Make that flamingos on fire, with bright red accents and brilliant sparklies.
Shiny.
“Ladies, this has been fantastic, but I’d better get going because I have to work this afternoon,” I said reluctantly, standing up from the table we’d taken over in the food court. “I just hope I don’t gack my nails while I’m at it.”
“Pisser,” Em said, pouting prettily. “I was hoping we could go shopping until the men finish their Top Secret Important Biker Business.”
“Maybe tomorrow?” I asked, flattered that she’d invite me along. Em sighed.
“It’ll have to be another time,” she said. “I think we’re headed home this afternoon. I’ve been cramping a little—no big deal—but Hunter’s all worked up about it. He’s terrified I’m going to break or something.”
She rolled her eyes and we all laughed. Then I waved good-bye and headed out to my van.
The first hint something was wrong was the open driver’s-side window. I never left my van open. (Not that I had anything valuable in it, but I carried enough equipment and cleaning chemicals in the back that I worried some little kid might get in there and get hurt. My insurance agent had spent forty-five minutes three years ago explaining the concept of business liability to me, and I’d been irrationally nervous ever since. The man was a sadist. He should’ve worked as a high school guidance counselor, because not one of those kids would’ve been brave enough to have sex after a sit-down with him.)
The second red flag was a business-size manila envelope sitting on the seat. A white mailing label had been stuck to the front, but instead of an address, one word had been printed in large, black letters.
“Open.”
In a movie, this is where the bomb squad gets called out. But it didn’t look big enough for a bomb, and I lived in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. We’d already used up our entire town’s annual drama quotient on my house. I reached down, my fingers trembling, and picked it up. A black smart phone slid out.
It came to life—a Skype request for videoconferencing.
I fumbled for a minute, then managed to press the accept button. Jessica’s face appeared on the phone, her eyes swollen with tears. A purple bruise darkened her cheek. Oh shit oh shit oh shit …
“Loni?” she asked, her voice tight and strained. I leaned heavily against the van, my legs turning to Jell-O.
“Jessie, what’s going on?”
“I’m in some trouble,” she whispered. “Mom’s friends are here with me and they want to talk to you. Please listen to them. I think they’re going to hurt me more if you don’t.”
With that, someone grabbed the phone out of her hand and jerked it away. The image swayed, giving me glimpses of concrete and men wearing dark masks. Then it stilled, focusing on Jessica’s arm. A man’s gloved hand held it down, spreading out her fingers across what had to be a butcher block. Then a giant knife came into view—no, that thing was more like a machete. It flashed down and then Jessica’s screams came pouring through the phone’s tiny speakers.
A terrible fist clutched my chest, cutting off my breath and stopping my heart.
They’d sliced off her little finger.
I could see it sitting right there on the block, and it wasn’t attached to her body anymore!
Blood was gushing and Jess was screaming and somewhere in the background a man laughed, but my eyes would only focus on that little pink hunk of flesh, complete with sparkling gel nails that had recently been filled. I had a sudden, discordant vision of Jess and Amber getting manicures together. Laughing. Maybe grabbing something to eat before they came home and Amber handed over her beautiful daughter to a fucking psychopathic madman! I had no fucking doubt this was Amber’s work.
What kind of animal cuts off a child’s finger?
The picture abruptly disappeared, switching to audio. I put the phone to my ear, wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing. My body felt distant and shaky. Shock? I needed to breathe. I managed to climb into the van’s seat and drop my head down over my knees as a man started speaking.
“Next time it’ll be her hand,” he said, the heavily accented word
s laced with menace. “Then maybe I’ll cut that tube right out of her head, see what it looks like. Always wondered how they wire up retards to make them look normal. She’s cute, so I’ll probably fuck her before I kill her.”
“What do you want?” I whispered. “Please, she’s just a girl—let her go. We won’t tell anyone about this.”
“If you want to keep her alive, you’ll do exactly what I say, because I own you now,” he said, his voice dark and low and radiating so much evil I could cry. Wait. I was crying. “I want you to go through Picnic Hayes’s house and find papers for me. Anything you can that looks like it might be business related. Lists of names. Schedules. Take pictures with this phone and I’ll access them. You’ll do the same at Pawns and The Line. You’ve got until Tuesday to get it done, but I want to see progress along the way. If I don’t get something from you every day, her hand’s back on the block. We can cut off a lot of pieces before she dies—it’s all on you.”
I swallowed, wishing I could afford to play dumb, do something to buy time, change it somehow because this couldn’t actually be happening, could it?
“She’s more susceptible to infection than other kids,” I said desperately. “That shunt keeps her alive, and if it gets blocked or infected, it’s very serious. It could even kill her. Please—if she spikes a fever, get her to a doctor. She might need surgery if things go wrong. I saw a bruise on her cheek, which means someone hit her. Jessica can’t take trauma like that. She’s not a normal kid, it could kill her.”