“You still take it black, Benjamin?” Dolly asked as she set out a clean mug.
Benjamin Kennedy answered without hesitation. “Yeah, thanks.”
Then Special Agent Kennedy leaned his hips against the counter and nodded to Glory. “You can move away from the door now, Mrs. Bonny. Might as well have a seat, we’re gonna be here a while.”
Glory moved woodenly to take a seat at the table next to Gia.
Dolly served coffee and cookies to the FBI agent like it was a Sunday afternoon social. They passed the time talking about trivial things—not quite like friends, but not like strangers or enemies either.
An hour and a half later the DEA officers left. And as Special Agent Benjamin Kennedy predicted—they hadn’t found a thing.
Prosper and the boys were lined up single file, their hands lay flat on wall, their legs spread apart. When the pat downs showed nothing but a couple of loose joints, the Saints were ordered to turn around with their hands clasped behind their backs. From that stance they watched on impassively as the ATF agents rained hell on the compound.
The only outward sign that the wanton destruction of Saints property had an effect on the club members were the clenched fists, the taut jaws, and the hard glittering eyes that zeroed in on the agents as ATF slashed, smashed and crashed through furniture, electronics and top shelf bottles of booze.
“You wanna tell me what the fuck this is all about? And where the fuck is Kennedy?” Prosper had had enough.
“Shut the fuck up and move away, shithead!” The officer bellowed back.
Prosper had no idea what the fuck was going on. Usually he had some warning of raids like this one. And Kennedy was always the Agent in Charge, while he was not on Saints payroll, Prosper and the Special Agent had a long- time history. Benjamin Kennedy was an upstanding officer with a strong moral code that did not allow him to take bribes or otherwise compromise his law man status, but he also was not a disrespectful mother fucker. Prosper took a look at the name on the warrant, Herrera—didn’t ring any bells.
Special Agent Herrera paced in front of the Saints lined up against the wall. His chest puffed out, back ramrod straight, the heels of his wing tips stomping across the wooden floor, he tried his best to appear intimidating. Someone spat on the floor as he walked by. Prosper guessed it was probably Diego.
There was a sound of fist hitting muscle and out of the corner of his eye, Prosper saw Diego slump over from a hard punch to the gut. Diego would have known that was coming after an outward show of disrespect, but when the agent kneed him hard in the balls, Diego fell hard. Herrera then proceeded to use his highly polished dress shoes to kick the shit out of out of the downed biker.
“You better step away while you still can, you motherfucking cocksucker!!!!” Prosper shouted out as he ran from this place on the wall and stood between Diego’s slumped body and Herrera’s murderous rage.
“Did you just threaten a federal officer?!!!” Herrera thundered.
“NO, I JUST MADE A PROMISE TO A COCKSUCKING ASSHOLE! YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA BEAT AN UNARMED MAN TO DEATH WHILE HE’S DOWN? NOT MY BOY AND NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH!” Prosper raged out in decibels that shook the walls.
In a fury now, Agent Herrera ran towards Prosper, drew his weapon and shoved it hard against Prosper’s temple. Fifteen very pissed off bikers standing against the wall flexed and growled with barely contained rage while the ATF agents reacted to the increased tension. They followed Herrera’s lead, drew their weapons and pointed their guns at the Saints and for a minute nobody breathed.
“What the hell is going on here?” Agent Kennedy hollered from the doorway. “Holster your weapons, now!”
“Now Herrera!” He repeated the order when Herrera didn’t respond. “Stand down!”
The Special Agent withdrew the gun from Prosper’s jaw with reluctance.
“Remove yourself from the scene.” Kennedy glared at the him.
“This piece of shit threatened a federal officer.” Herrera growled.
“And the unarmed man on the floor who looks like he just went nine rounds with Floyd Mayweather? He threatened you too?” Kennedy asked him. “You had your team draw their weapons on unarmed men during a damn search and seizure warrant, and you better have a damn good reason for that.” Then his voice became low and authoritative. “We’ve had this discussion before. Now help that man up and then remove yourself from the room.”
“Ass clown comes near me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.” Diego wheezed out as he struggled to get to stand.
Herrera turned on his heels and stomped away like an angry adolescent.
Benjamin Kennedy looked around at the destruction. The rest of the raiding squad had just begun to file into the common room of the compound.
“Tell me you found something.” Kennedy asked the lead man.
“No. Not yet but…”
“We’re done here.” Kennedy told him.
“But…” The officer protested.
“Done. Here.”
Officer Kennedy turned his attention back to Diego who was being helped out of the room by Jules and Reno. “I can have somebody take Diego’s statement if he wants to press charges against Herrera.”
“I’ll let him know.” Prosper’s said grimly.
“Can I have a word?” Kennedy asked.
“I need the room.” Prosper called out to the men who were milling about, talking in hushed voices and beginning to clean up the shattered mess.
“I just came back from your property at the lake.” Kennedy began as soon as they were alone.
“Yeah, and how did that go?” Prosper snorted.
“Pretty much as I expected.” Kennedy told him.
“I hope the hell you didn’t bust that place up too.” Prosper said with disgust.
Kennedy shook his head. “You know that’s not my style.” He looked around at the devastation that Herrera’s crew had caused.
“Yeah, well seems like it’s your new boy’s style and this is gonna cost me a fucking fortune.” Prosper scowled.
“There is no need for this. No need at all. You know how it goes— young, stupid, straight from Quantico and trying to make a name for himself. Kid doesn’t get it yet that this isn’t the way to do that.”
“I got the same pain in the ass attitude with some of my prospects.” Prosper commiserated. After a brief pause, he cocked his head. “What can you tell me?”
“It’s not good, Prosper. Your man was caught transporting 5 K’s of smack across state lines.” Kennedy gave Prosper a sharp look. “Thought you were moving the club in another direction. I have to tell you, I’m real disappointed to think that’s not the case. Our sources tell us that Riker was on his way to meet up with Hezekiah Jones. We’ve been watching the Aces rise up for a while now and word is they’re looking strong. Strong enough to take on the cartel’s plans for expansion and make sure they don’t infiltrate any further into the Keys. The way we see that, that’s not a bad thing, we want the cartel out of there as much as anyone. But we can’t have that kind of quantity of drugs hitting the streets, no matter who is running the show. We are getting a lot of pressure from Washington, and it’s just a matter of time before the whole operation is turned over to someone with a hell of a lot more years left to retire than I have. And fair warning? My replacement isn’t gonna have a soft place in his heart for you like I do.” Benjamin Kennedy snorted and then he looked at Prosper expectantly. “Now, what can you tell me?”
“Hypothetically speaking?”
“Of course.”
“If the Saints were ever in the drug business, and If they decided to get out, and If there was a growing cartel presence in the Southeast, then yeah, backing the Aces would be the way for us to go—and that could mean us helping the Aces out and in turn helping ourselves out too. Means to a fucking end you could say.” Prosper hesitated. “Bit of friendly advice?”
“Sure.”
“I’d give some long, hard thought as to which side the feds
want to fall on. This territory shit is just starting to heat up and it’s gonna be a long, dirty, bloody race to the finish. I’d hate to see your friends in Washington bet on the wrong horse. Hezekiah’s a good president, he’s got a good head and he’s not above taking some friendly advice. What I’m saying Benjamin, is Hez ain’t cartel, and he won’t ever be cartel. Drug trade is a nasty, risky business. I ain’t saying it’s not. But you take down the Aces, or the Saints for distribution you’re gonna leave that door wide open for the Colombians to walk through it. And they’re gonna bring a whole new level of shitstorm with them.”
“Appreciate the advice, Prosper. But you know me, I’m a stickler. I fall on the side of the law every time.” He shrugged. “But like I said, I’m looking at retiring in a couple of years, sure would like to see that Colombian presence weaken before I call it quits”
Prosper snorted. “Retiring sounds pretty good right now.”
Kennedy smirked. “You think on that, it sure would make my life a hell of a lot easier.” Then he went on to say, “Look, Prosper, the way it now stands, The Keys is a strong access port, we’ve got the Coast Guard on those waters round the clock, but the Cartel is still finding a way in. You help me get them anything…anything…and I will find a way to make it stick. That’ll weaken their operation just long enough so that we’ll be able to take steps to full eradication of the Southeast. If that happens, I might be able to help you out with your boy, Riker.”
Prosper looked thoughtful. “I’ll take it under consideration.”
“You do that.” Kennedy nodded.
Kennedy was not even half way out the door when Prosper picked up his cell and began punching in numbers.
“And what?” Reno looked uncomfortable. His eyes volleyed from his mother to Gia, then back again.
“And what else do you know?” Gia snapped at him.
Gia was exhausted, and her ribs were sore. The baby, as if sensing the anxiety of its momma, had been kicking up all afternoon and into the early evening. Gia rubbed her belly automatically in a soothing gesture while she willed the throbbing pain in her temple to ease.
A few moments earlier she had walked into the kitchen to find Reno at the table with his mother. Gia listened on in horror as he explained that Riker had been arrested.
“And?” Gia shot out in exasperation.
“Well…uh…like I said…Riker’s been brought in…” Reno spoke with great hesitance.
At Reno’s obvious reluctance to share, Gia finally lost the battle with her frayed nerves.
“God damn it, Reno! All this hemming and hawing is only making it worse!” Gia called him out on his bullshit evasion of the truth tactics.
Dolly interceded on Gia’s behalf and said to her son, “Full disclosure, honey. She needs to know.”
Reno’s gaze swept over Gia and stalled at her baby-belly for a few seconds before his eyes met hers. “It’s not good.”
“Really? Because I thought the ATF agents crawling like hungry ants all over this place all afternoon meant that everything was going to be just fine.” Gia’s tone bit with sarcasm. Then her shoulders slumped from carrying the weight of the world. “Reno, seriously? You think I don’t get how bad this must be?”
“The club’s on it, Gia.” Reno hastened to reassure her. “Prosper’s putting together a whole team and calling in every marker to get Riker outa this mess.”
“Okay.” Gia struggled to stay calm. “How big of a mess are we talking about?”
More bullshit hesitation from Reno.
With a sigh born out of sheer frustration and anger, Gia led with her belly as she pushed herself to stand. Her back cramped and she gasped with pain. When Reno reached to help her, she swatted his hand away. “The only help I need from you is to hear the truth.” She spat at him. “Do you not understand how much harder this is making it—this not knowing?”
“For the love of god, Reno tell the woman what is happening!” Dolly scolded her son.
“Okay, Ma. But don’t shoot the messenger.”
Then Reno began to talk.
And when he was done, both women sat at the table in stunned silence.
A deep raw panic had settled like a wet, heavy blanket on top of Gia’s chest and she couldn’t breathe. She became dimly aware that the rain that had been threatening all day had now arrived with a vengeance. Without another word, Gia headed for the door and once she got there, she kept walking. It was storm season, so the rain didn’t content itself to pour downward, but instead the torrents hit at such an angle that it crept under her collar and stung her face. Gia only stopped when she came to the edge of the lake. There she stood watching the waves batter themselves furiously against the shore as the storm gathered strength and raged around her. Rain ran unchecked down Gia’s face, coursed over her belly and streamed down between her breasts. Gia’s Catholic upbringing urged her to pray, but she didn’t have the heart to try.
Five Kilos of Heroin.
Why in the world…why? Why! Why had Riker agreed to transport such a large quantity of drugs when he had so much to lose? When they had so much to lose?
Gia felt Dolly cover her shoulders with a warm jacket and shelter them both under a big umbrella.
“This can’t be the end, Dolly. This can’t be the end of our story.”
“It’s not the end, honey. We won’t let it be the end.” Dolly gave Gia a fierce hug, then she led her inside and out of the storm.
What a horrible, wretched, depressing place this was.
Maybe it was different at other detention centers, Gia didn’t know. Despite her family’s criminal connections, Gia had never been allowed to visit a prison. Besides, even if she had, the federal prison where her father had been sentenced to and died in, had to have been much different than this hell hole. Hadn’t it? Even though Gia didn’t expect the day to be without its challenges, nothing in Gia’s worst imaginings could have prepared her for this.
Because Riker had been arrested crossing state lines he was being held in a prison about four and a half hours away. So, for a pregnant woman, the ride to the prison itself was a literal pain in the ass. Gia’s lumbar ached, her bum kept going numb, and she had to ask Prosper to stop and let her pee so often that after a while he just automatically pulled into any and all rest stops.
Gia and Prosper in a car alone for several hours⸺ awkward times a million.
Considering that they barely knew each other, Gia supposed that a conversation between the two of them under any situation might have been awkward, but the circumstances under which they found themselves thrown together now, made small talk seem even more ludicrous. After a few brief attempts, they both settled into their own thoughts. Prosper kept his eye on the road, and Gia looked out the window. She watched the miles go by in long depressing stretches of nothing but colorless fields and worn out highway.
They stood in line together in the parking lot and waited with the hundreds of other visitors for the white buses that would shuttle them to the prison. Once there, they would be treated to more long, uncomfortable periods of standing, waiting, being searched, checking in and then more waiting.
If Gia had ever doubted the seriousness of the charges levied against Riker, the visit to the prison slammed down on her consciousness like a grim sledgehammer. As Prosper and Gia had stepped off the shuttle bus and drew closer to the entrance of this first part of the prison, a faded red metal Amnesty Box came into view—last chance for the visitors to dump any prohibited items before they were searched.
Before they were searched?
Rows and rows of rusted, dented lockers stood against a long wall. They were to be used by visitors to deposit all of their belongings— guests had to surrender everything except for the ID necessary for entry and the few permissible items that were allowed to be given to inmates. When Gia shoved her cell phone and purse into one of the secured units, she felt a momentary sense of panic. It was as if she was giving up her last connection to the outside world.
&n
bsp; Gia thought of Riker time and time and time again as she navigated her way through the stages of entry. She thought of him on his Harley—free and easy on the open road with the wind whipping through his hair and the sun shining down on him. Riker’s body was always warm, even on the coldest nights. It was as if it were soaking up every bit of light and heat and wind and —life!
How anyone could take being imprisoned in this huge, impenetrable, grim fortress was hard to imagine. But for a man like Riker, every moment must feel like a bullet straight to the heart. Whatever the crime, he was certainly paying the price for that now.
After being electronically body scanned, and sniffed with alarming intimacy by a very large, fierce looking police dog, Gia came face-to-face with her first corrections officer.
“Your ID please ma’am.” The guard said to her. After she presented it, he pointed to a space about two hundred feet away ahead where visitors were taking off their shoes and going through a metal detector. After doing the same, Gia and Prosper were each given a small white card. Printed on the card was the visitor’s name, the inmate’s name, and the visitor’s photograph. After the tickets were handed out, the throngs were then directed to two different parts of the visitors’ center. Here, they stood in line yet again, for another fleet of buses to arrive and take them all to different parts of the complex.
By now, Gia’s back was on fire and her feet were so puffed up and swollen that each step was painful. Even though her body was emitting perspiration in record amounts, Gia’s mouth was as dry as sand, and she was having trouble keeping her balance. When she stumbled over her own feet, Gia drew the attention of a young guard.
“Ma’am let’s get you off your feet.” He motioned her to the chairs against the building.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Gia would have loved to sit down for a minute, but she saw the next round of shuttles approaching the gate and she wanted to be on them.
“Ma’am, you don’t look like you’re feeling too well. Let’s sit you down.” He said with quiet persistence.
Raising Riker (Hells Saints MC) Page 11