HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC

by Claire St. Rose

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Adam didn’t have time for pleasantries. He didn’t have time to set up a meeting and pour a scotch; he didn’t have time to haggle or barter. The Soul Stealers had his best friend, his oldest friend; he didn’t have time for anything. Adam had met Joey on the basketball court of Neumann Goretti Junior High School. It had been Adam’s first day of junior high; he was a pimply, uncoordinated, tall mess. That summer he had grown a foot in two months and was never sure what to do with his new bulk. He had first seen Joey leaning against a chain link fence, standing on tiptoes and peering to the right. A confused Adam had walked over to him, wondering what the other boy was doing.

  “Girls,” Joey had said, pointing through the fence at the all-girls school across the street. Joey had found the one place in the fence where they could see the other half of their species. It had only taken one word, but it had been enough to start a friendship that persisted some fifteen years later. Joey and Adam had gotten through high school together; Joey’s mom had helped Adam buy his first boutonniere for his first real date with a girl, a dance held in their school’s gym. They had been brothers before Scarred Angels and they would always be brothers.

  Adam pounded loudly on the door to the warehouse. He knew this was stupid, very stupid. But he didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. The warehouse was a large, nondescript brick building that sat right on the water. It was one of many buildings on this unimpressive stretch of road that all looked the same, but he knew this was where Andre worked. This was his headquarters. Adam had never come here before during the day like this. Before their days of going legit, Scarred Angels had done some work for Andre’s people, but not in a while. He had never come uninvited before.

  They knew he was there. There were cameras everywhere. There was one pointed at his face right at that moment but still no one appeared Adam pounded on the door and stared into the camera.

  “Let me in, Dre. It’s just me, no one else. I need to talk to you.”

  Finally he heard the sound of a panel sliding as a partition was removed and a pair of dark eyes started at Adam from the other side of the door.

  “I need to speak to Andre. It’s an emergency,” Adam said. The pair of eyes continued to stare, making no movement, barely even blinking. Adam stared straight back into those eyes, unwilling to leave. Finally the eyes looked away and Adam heard a series of locks click as the door swung silently open.

  A man stared at Adam, looked him up and down. “Spread your legs, hands on the wall.”

  Adam did as he was told and felt the man expertly frisk him. There were no guns or knives to be found; he had left them all in the car. Andre was smart and careful. He trained his people well, never cut corners; Adam knew this would happen. The man felt the lump in Adam’s breast pocket and pulled out the wad of cash Adam had brought with him. It was over five thousand dollars.

  “That’s for your boss,” Adam said as the man flipped through bills and then handed them back, finally permitting him to enter the garage.

  The first room was a literal waiting room. It was outdated-looking, with a crappy old TV playing the local news, folding chairs, and faded green carpet. A beautiful woman sat behind a desk with a computer, filing her nails and doing everything in her power to not look up. Andre’s company was listed as a delivery service, but what they delivered was a whole different matter.

  From the main room, the nameless man led Adam back through an office, and then he keyed in a code and opened another door that opened to a seemingly endless flight of stairs that went down into darkness. Adam followed the man, tracking a twisting and turning path through endless hallways and endless locked doors until, finally, he found himself in front of a dark mahogany door.

  The man knocked twice and then opened the door, shoving Adam inside. Where the office upstairs was outdated, the one below street level was beyond tricked out. There was plush carpet, leather chairs, multiple flat screen TVs, a pool table, and tanks filled with all sorts of fish and other reptiles. Andre sat alone on one of the couches, that day’s New York Times crossword puzzle half-finished in his hand.

  “I’m sorry to come unannounced,” Adam said.

  “What’s a four letter word for ‘reply’?” Andre asked, searching the ceiling for clues.

  “I have no fucking idea. I hate puzzles.” Adam responded. “I need to know where the Soul Stealers work from. They took one of ours.”

  “Begins with an e...” Andre mused.

  “Five G's, Andre. I know you have no love for the Soul Stealers. I know they’re bad for your business. Help me out here. I can get rid of them for all of us,” Adam said, throwing his money down on the table.

  “Thought you went straight?” Andre said.

  “They took one of ours. No matter how straight you go, you can’t let that pass.”

  “I can’t be getting involved in the actions of biker gangs. I ain’t putting myself in the middle of that fight. I like you Adam. But like ain’t enough to pick sides in a war. Now, back to the puzzle, four letter word for reply begins with an ‘e’.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Andre. Are you playing literal games with me right now? People are going to die. You need to tell me what you know.”

  “I don’t need to do anything. You’re on my turf, and you need to listen to what I am saying to you.”

  “You’re not saying anything!”

  “Four letters, starts with an ‘e,’ a reply,” Andre stared into Adam’s eyes and watched as it finally clicked.

  “I hate puzzles,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. A five letter word for reply, a five letter word that meant to reply... “Echo,” he said, looking at Andre.

  “It fits,” Andre said.

  “Echo Lane...” Adam said, looking at the other man.

  Echo Lane was a small community down by airport, technically part of the city, but separated from the rest of it by the highways. You could get anything there: drugs, guns, women, men, anything. But the items for sale on Echo Lane were cheap and dirty. There was no order down there; shootings and stabbings were an everyday part of life. Neither the police nor the gangs had any real sway in Echo Lane; it was where the lowest of the low got their fix. Echo Lane was lawless chaos. It was where people went to die. It made perfect sense the Stealers had set up shop in Echo Lane.

  Adam threw the wad of bills on the table and Andre took a moment too look above his newspaper at the money. “What’s that for? I didn’t tell you anything.”

  “It’s for your continued support of Scarred Angels, Andre. We always enjoy seeing you there,” Adam responded as he turned and walked towards the door.

  “Be careful, Mendel,” Andre said from behind him. “People go missing in Echo Lane every day. Don’t go alone and don’t bring that girl.”

  “Never,” Adam said as he followed his escort back out. He doubted Dakota Kane had even heard of Echo Lane. There was no charity there, no soup kitchens. It was beyond saving, beyond redemption. The people there were dangerous and unpredictable, life had tossed them like garbage into Echo Lane and the people who lived there knew them once they found themselves there, they would never get out. And that was exactly where Adam needed to go.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  No one stopped Dakota on her way out the building; they watched her with their eyes, following her progress through the empty club and out the front door. Mark, her escort, was gone and Dakota didn’t want to wait for him. She had the keys to her Prius on her keychain. Mark only had a copy. The parking lot was even more empty than usual, the bikers who had been smoking outside gone; only their bikes and stubbed out cigarettes proving they were even there.

  Dakota quickly unlocked her car and took off down Delaware Avenue with no idea where she was going. Running away was pointless. Scarred Angels had access to everything. They could track the GPS in her car and her phone, and they had keys and access codes to her house and her apartment. There was nowhere she could be safe from them. S
he needed to end the contract, unless that would just make them angrier.

  Joey, poor Joey. Scarred Angels was right. It wasn’t fair that Joey had been kidnapped and beaten up. It wasn’t fair at all, but Dakota hadn’t kidnapped him and she had no idea who had. The Soul Stealers, it must have been them. It was the Stealers who had been hired to kill Dakota and her father. It was the Soul Stealers who had made mistake after mistake and were now getting desperate.

  Dakota was all alone. Her security team was the enemy now. The people she had hired to protect her, the people she had considered friends, were coming for her. Her father was still sick and weak, defenseless. He could be killed at any moment in a trade for Joey’s life. Dakota had trusted Adam and Scarred Angels with everything, with her life. But now what was she supposed to do when the people who were supposed to be protecting her started hunting her?

  Would they really do it? John and Dakota Kane were innocent. They had never hurt anyone; they hadn’t started this war and they were stuck in the middle of it. But she knew that wasn’t how Scarred Angels would see it. They would see the mansion and the cars, the wealth and privilege; they would assume that John and Dakota were just a couple of lazy elites who didn’t care about anyone but themselves. The members of Scarred Angels were brothers; they would always put their brothers before their clients.

  If only I could figure out who was paying them. Who is the backer, the guy with all the money? All this over money. Dakota had money; she had more money than ninety percent of the people in that city put together. Was all of this over money? She had always assumed that it was something else, something bigger, or at least something that meant more than money. Says the girl who has too much of it, she thought. Then she stopped in the middle of street, as a dawning realization came over her.

  “I’m so stupid,” she said out loud to no one. It was obvious how this whole situation could be solved. Who had more money than the Kanes? Not many people, a few kings, a handful of hedge fund managers, and the founders of Facebook. Dakota had been doing this all wrong. She didn’t need to find out who was paying the Soul Stealers. She just needed to pay them more. But how? She heard a honk behind her and was reminded of the fact that she was stopped in the middle of the road. She put her foot on the gas and made her way back out to the suburbs.

  ***

  Marley’s mother, Betty, was a strange bird. She was the epitome of old money. Her family regularly mentioned bloodlines and purity and bragged about their links to European royalty. Even though it was Dakota’s great grandfather who had made the Kane fortune, Betty still referred to the Kanes as “new money”. She was often giving Dakota unsolicited advice about the sort of people she should be associated with and how she could better spend her time.

  Betty was also paranoid as hell. Every home and apartment her family owned had a panic room and she had demanded all of her children get their pilot's license and learn how to fly the family jet. According to Betty, the peasants could rise up at any moment and she wanted her children to know how to run when the time came.

  The gate was always closed, but when Dakota gave her name and smiled into the camera, the gate swung open and she drove down the lane to Betty’s impressive home.

  “OMG, Dakota! Did I know you were coming? Where’s your bodyguard?” Marley asked, meeting her on the front steps.

  The mention of Adam was all it took. Dakota could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she shook her head, both to the clear them away and to answer Marley.

  “What happened? Did you break up again?” Marley asked, opening the door and helping Dakota out.

  “I can’t get into it right now. Who does your family use for security?” Dakota asked, wiping away her tears and ordering herself to stop crying. There was no time for pity and sadness. The Soul Stealers had Joey; they could be doing anything to him. And then there was the matter of Dakota and her father, her father who was still, at that moment, being guarded by Scarred Angels. She needed to end this, now.

  Ten minutes later Dakota was in the working kitchen of Marley’s mother’s house. A hot cup of coffee in front of her, the man across from her drank only water.

  “This is what happens when you hire a biker gang for protection, Ms. Kane. They are a dangerous and unstable element. I could never figure out why your father hired them.” The man across from her was just as tall and well-built as Adam. He was African American and dressed in a suit with an earpiece, the image of professionalism. His name was Thomas Christophe. Never Tom, always Thomas.

  “It came at the referral of a trusted friend, James Hastings. He’s known my father since college. He’s usually good at this sort of thing. They did a good job, but things have become complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” Thomas asked.

  “The thing is, I need someone at the house. I need someone to watch the bodyguards. I don’t know what they’re going to do, and I’m worried that just firing them will make them angry.”

  “Ms. Kane, I can make a phone call and have ten men at your house in twenty minutes. Ten trusted men, most with military or police experience, and background checks to prove it.”

  Dakota wrung her hands. She didn’t know what to do. What if this only angered Scarred Angels? What if it caused them to strike out against her? And then there was Adam, what would he think if Dakota just fired him without talking to him first? Could he ever forgive her for it? But then she remembered what the men at Scarred Angels had said, rich bitch, spoiled princess. Adam was one man; the club was an entity of itself. How much control could he really have? And then there was the note, the Kanes for Joey, she didn’t need to question which one the members would choose.

  Dakota nodded and a contract was placed in front of her. She signed it and then called the family's attorney, telling him she had ended the contract with Scarred Angels effective immediately and hired Transcontinental Security instead. The lawyer would handle everything including the call to Scarred Angels telling them they had been fired.

  “Give them a bonus for their hard work, whatever you think is appropriate. I know this is sudden, but I want us to end on the best terms possible,” she instructed and then hung up the phone. Thomas had scanned and faxed the contract over while she had made the call and he sat smugly in front of her, no doubt happy about the bonus he would get for signing a family like the Kanes.

  “I need something else from you, no questions asked,” Dakota said.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a gang in the city, a different biker gang. The Soul Stealers, I need to know where I can find them.”

  “Ms. Kane, I’m sure this goes without saying, but you should not involve yourself in a war between gangs. That is a very dangerous position to put yourself in. If you’re in danger, you can tell me and I can help protect you. Scarred Angels should not have involved you in their business, and you should feel no obligation to help them,” Thomas said.

  “You work for me, do you not?” Dakota asked

  “I do.”

  “Then get me the information, or I’ll find someone who will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  “The Stealers have set up shop in Echo Lane,” Adam said to the men surrounding him. “I don’t know that’s where they have Joey, but it’s the best lead we have.” He heard his men muttering around him about Echo Lane. They all knew what that place was like; they had all paid it a visit at least once, and few were eager to return. “If he’s not there, we’ll break a few skulls and find out where he is,” Adam continued. There were no question of who would come; they all would, no order needed to be given.

  But this was the one thing Adam had never wanted. A gang war was dangerous. People got hurt, civilians not in the game would get hit with crossfire, the cops would find out, and men would be put in jail. There would be a victor, but the cost would be so heavy that it wouldn’t feel anything like victory. But there was nothing to be done about it. The Stealers had started it, and now Scarred Angels was going to end it.
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br />   “The question is,” Adam said. “How do we ride in: loud or quiet?”

  “Loud,” said Rick, a junior member. “They think they can fuck with us? I say we go in loud and fast and show them why you don’t mess with the boys in Scarred Angels.” A cheer went up at this, but not everyone cheered along.

  “Sounds like a great way to get Joey killed,” Mark said from the back. “They have a hostage. We need to get Joey out first, then we can get loud.”

  “Wait,” Adam said, looking at Mark as he felt his stomach drop. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Dakota.” For a moment, no one spoke. There were low mutterings, but none loud enough for Adam to hear. “What the fuck is going on?” Adam demanded.

  “The Kanes just fired us,” Bill said, handing Adam a piece of paper that had just been faxed over, the words Immediate Cessation of Contract in bold letters at the top.