She nodded. She remembered each locker number, totally random without any logic to them at all. Her mind spun over to Cipher’s code, and she frowned. Maybe the locker numbers were just coincidence, but so far, nothing about Cipher was turning out to be cut and dried. From taking apart his office and going through his books, he may look a mess, but she’d learned he was a methodical plotter.
The bus station had people moving to and fro, hurrying in all directions, which made her a feel a bit better. There were so many people and she blended in as one more person milling about, especially with her backpack on. The sunglasses had belonged to Gabby, and she’d bent them so they’d stay firmly planted on her face. She looked around, heart pounding with fear, expecting to see Cipher jumping out at her like he’d done in the hardware store, but no one paid her any attention. She was just another nobody in the crowd.
The key burned in her pocket, so she hurried to the section that housed the lockers. The smaller numbers were in back, leaving the higher numbers as the first ones she approached. Wouldn’t a man wanting to stuff a random duffel bag just go to the first locker? Why seek out a specific locker? As Kaiya went past the numbers—sixteen, fifteen, fourteen—her mind replaced the numbers with letters of the English alphabet. P was the sixteenth letter, O was the fifteenth… The twenty-sixth letter was Z. Locker number ten had been in Lincoln. Number twenty-six in Omaha. Number six in Sioux City. Which would be JZF. Had Cipher picked these lockers based on something specific? Maybe his own initials? That sounded farfetched, but damned if the thought didn’t persist. She’d have to ask Boone and Gabby when she returned.
Locker twenty-six looked untouched. Glancing to make sure no one was around, she pulled the key out of her pocket and hurried forward. The key slid into the lock with ease. Kaiya released a pent-up breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She turned the key and the door opened effortlessly. Inside lay another duffel bag. Without looking inside, she slung it over her shoulder, turned, and hurried back the way she had come.
She almost ran the entire way back, weaving in and out of the crowd, moving as quickly as possible. She was almost to the door when she saw a biker out of the corner of her eye. Kaiya halted and gasped as her gaze met the stare of the man from the diner. He watched her, without even bothering to try to hide himself, studying her as if she were some sort of curious specimen. Even behind the tinted shade of her glasses, their eyes locked, and terror flooded through her. Was this man helping Cipher? Was she being tracked even now? The questions had her snapping out of her shocked trance. She ran through the door, all the way to where Boone and Gabby stood by their bikes waiting on her. Her breath came in shocked little pants as Boone flung his arms around her.
“What happened?” Gabby signed. Even in sign language she could tell he was tense and on edge.
“One of the men from the diner was inside, watching me,” she signed back.
Gabby turned around and stepped toward the entrance, but Boone’s big chest rumbled so she assumed he’d told Gabby no. The two men shared a grim look, then Boone tugged on her arm, hurrying her to mount up. She had barely put on her helmet before they roared away from the bus station, riding hard and fast.
They maneuvered through the city, all of it a blur, until Boone signaled toward a gas station and they pulled both bikes up toward a pump. Kaiya hopped off, waiting as the men filled their gas tanks.
“You think we’re being followed?” Gabby asked Boone.
Before Boone could answer, both men tensed and looked behind them. It took a moment for Kaiya to feel the vibration of motorcycles on the ground, and by then, it was too late for them to do anything. Four bikes rumbled into the gas station, surrounding them, and Boone grabbed her arm to yank her behind him. Her stomach rolled, and she had a sinking feeling they weren’t here for just a friendly little chat.
* * * *
Boone watched each rider, instantly recognizing Stone Cold, the president of the Whiskey Knights. The gray that threaded his hair and mustache gave him an almost dopy look, which belied the man’s cunning. He was probably in his late fifties, but the years as a hardened biker and ex-con hadn’t done the man any favors. Deep lines marred his face, crisscrossing like a road map. Nicotine stains bled from his teeth onto the corner of his lip. A tall, thin man, his cold black eyes could freeze a man to death.
Next to him sat the man from the diner, the one who had been watching Kaiya in the depot. Boone didn’t know the younger man, but he still recognized a dangerous person when he saw one. This had the potential of turning ugly, so instead of reaching for his gun, he raised his hands slightly to show he wasn’t about to make a bad mistake.
“Boone,” Stone Cold greeted him.
“Stone Cold. We don’t want any trouble,” Boone said.
“You come into my territory without permission, wearing your colors,” Stone Cold said, shrugging. “That’s not very friendly.”
“We’re just passing through. We meant the Whiskey Knights no disrespect.”
Stone Cold kicked out his bike stand and propped his machine before dismounting. He walked around them, studying each in a slow, measured dose. Boone stayed still, although he wondered if he was making a colossal mistake not arming himself. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was Kaiya’s only shield and that they stood next to a fucking gas pump, he would’ve reached for his gun already. As it was, all he could do was wait.
“The Men of Hell, eh?” Stone Cold snorted. “Then you must know Bizerk and Vicious.”
Boone jerked. “What the hell did you just say?”
“You heard me.” Stone Cold stopped in front of him.
Boone glanced at the men boxing them in. They hadn’t drawn their guns, but he doubted a little thing like shooting next to a gas line would stop them if he made a move on their president.
“Vicious and Bizerk are fucking psychos,” he said.
“I won’t argue that. They didn’t like being stuck in the lower ranks of this club. Said they were going to form their own.”
“The motherfuckers didn’t form their own,” Boone growled. “They tried stealing mine. They killed two of my Brothers. Almost killed my president’s old lady.”
“I heard about your club being targeted.”
“Well, if you heard that and, if you know where Vicious is, then I demand you tell me!”
Stone Cold got right in his face, toe to toe, until all Boone saw was cold fury in his dark eyes. “First of all, I don’t take orders from no one, least of all the V.P. of an inferior club. Second, I know what those two asses did to your club, which is the only reason I haven’t put bullets in your head for trespassing. I knew the Men of Hell would come one day, which is why I had Eagle looking out for you. Seems like I have some restitution to pay out since they were my men.”
He motioned with his hand, and the biker who’d been watching them stepped forward.
“This is Eagle,” Stone Cold said. “He’s the scout for the Knights. Tell them what you saw the other night.”
“Happen to spot Vicious at the bus depot,” Eagle replied. “Don’t know what he was doing, but he was riding with a bald-headed man. Glasses. Skinny as fuck.”
Boone shared a grim look with Gabby. “Yeah,” he said, turning back. “We know him. Our old accountant.”
Stone Cold folded his arms across his chest. “Why would your old accountant be riding with Vicious?”
Boone stared at the gathered Whiskey Knights. They seemed to have no compunction of starting a gunfight next to a highly explosive substance. Shit. He turned to Kaiya and gestured for the duffel bag. She took it off and he tossed it over. It landed with a thunk at Stone Cold’s feet.
The man looked at him suspiciously before bending to open it. He looked surprised as he held up one of the stacks of cash.
“This is a lot of fucking money,” he said.
“He stole it from our club,” Boone replied.
Stone Cold tossed the stack back into the duffel and zipped it shut. Wh
en he stood, he had a firm hold on the bag. “We could consider this to be a good will gesture on your part.”
Of course. “As I see it, you lost control of your men, who came and killed two Men of Hell members. I fail to see what goodwill gesture I’m responsible for.”
Stone Cold glared at him for a long, tense moment. Then he grinned and tossed the duffel bag to Eagle. “You’ll come to the clubhouse, stay with us while we show you our apology. Then we’ll talk about your toll for entering my territory.”
Boone sighed. Fuck.
Chapter Twelve
Gabby didn’t like this, not one bit.
He followed Stone Cold and Eagle, with two other Whiskey Knights riding behind them forming a stifling cage around them. He kept glancing at Boone, wanting the man to veer off suddenly so they could get the hell away from this MC. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t an option, but that was why Boone was V.P. and he was just fucking muscle. It wasn’t that he was dumb, but he simply didn’t have the temperament to go down the politics path, and sitting at the head of the table was nothing but weighing the pros and cons of action. Office material he was not.
The Whiskey Knights compound was located out of the city, on a ranch for crying out loud—green rolling hills, white picket fences and horses that dotted the horizon. Not to mention the fact that there was no one to hear any gunshots, as well as having lots of places to hide a body. It was enough to mess with Gabby’s carefully controlled emotions as the main gate closed behind them with a loud clang.
Stone Cold led them down a paved, winding driveway past the picturesque three-story house to the outlaying barns, where about fifty Harley’s all stood in neat little rows. Two additional barns in the distance had armed guards at the door, holding nice little AR-15s that would fuck someone up real good. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that was where the real money for the Whiskey Knights was cooking—literally.
Men mingled around a bonfire, drinking, even though it was before noon. Women, some old ladies and some sweet butts, dressed in all forms of provocative outfits hung around the fringe. The sweet smell of marijuana wafted on the soft breeze. They had more than one pair of eyes trained on them and it made Gabby’s skin itch.
Stone Cold parked his bike and kicked out the stand. Gabby and Boone followed his example as the rest of the Whiskey Knights pulled around them, blocking them. He saw Eagle staring at Kaiya once again as she dismounted from behind Boone and took off her helmet, shaking her black hair free. He had the urge to go over and pound the shit out of the fucking scout, which would probably be detrimental to staying alive, seeing he was vastly outnumbered. No doubt the other members would take exception to him killing one of their own.
Above all, he had to watch out for Kaiya. He didn’t trust any of the Knights.
“Come,” Stone Cold said, waving at them. “Let’s talk.”
Boone closed his hand around Kaiya’s as they followed the president. He was a tall man, walking with a noticeable limp to his left leg. All the members greeted him as he parted the tribe, much like Moses had done with the Red Sea.
“Starting the celebration a little early, eh?” Boone asked.
“Most of the men just came back from a successful run.” Stone Cold winked. “Very prosperous.”
They made their way up a dirt path that led to the house. Stone Cold opened the back door and entered, gesturing for them to follow. Eagle snapped the screen door shut behind them. Gabby glared at him and maneuvered so the other man wasn’t at his back. He didn’t like being so vulnerable.
The kitchen was big and bright, with the rich smell of lemon disinfectant lingering in the air. A young blonde woman stood at the sink, washing dishes and, when she glanced up, a shriek of happiness erupted from her. She threw down the sponge to bolt over to Stone Cold. He braced himself as the petite woman threw herself in his arms and slapped her mouth against his for a deep kiss. As they came up for air, the age difference was glaringly obvious. If the woman was legal, Gabby knew it was probably by the skin of her teeth.
Stone Cold disentangled himself from the blonde and turned toward them with a shit-eating grin on his face. “This is Lisa,” he said. “My soon to be old lady. Lisa, make sure you treat these men real nice. They’re special guests of the Whiskey Knights.”
“Men of Hell, eh?” she said, giving him and Boone a onceover before her gaze rested on Kaiya. “Are you an old lady?”
Kaiya shrugged in a generic sort of way. She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn’t want to play up she could read lips or communicate.
Boone took up the introductions. “I’m Boone. This is Gabby. And this is Kaiya.”
Stone Cold nodded down a hallway and led down them toward the front of the house. Wooden planks creaked under foot, reverberating loudly. Boone held onto Kaiya’s hand just as Stone Cold held Lisa’s. The large farmhouse had been modified for the club’s need, and Stone Cold opened a door to a sealed off room to reveal their chapel. Several club Brothers stood watch just outside the screen door and they greeted Stone Cold with a nod of respect.
Stone Cold pointed at Kaiya. “This is an official meeting. She can go with Lisa.”
“Kaiya stays by my side,” Boone said in a tone that booked no argument. He was taller than Stone Cold by a few inches and greatly out muscled him. “She’s deaf and won’t hear a word of what happens inside Church. But she doesn’t leave my side.”
Stone Cold looked from him to Gabby and back. He wasn’t happy with Boone’s declaration. “Deaf, eh?”
Boone simply turned to Kaiya and signed. “Nonmembers don’t sit in Church, especially women. But I don’t trust them and I don’t want you being alone here.”
“Aren’t they your allies?” she asked with her hands.
“Not really,” he replied.
“All right,” Stone Cold said. “I get it. She can’t fucking hear.” He looked at Eagle. “You have a problem with her inside?”
Eagle shook his head.
Stone Cold kissed Lisa on the lips and patted her ass back toward the kitchen before opening the chapel doors. Lisa lingered for a moment, staring at Kaiya, before turning and walking away. Church was the formal dining room, or at least it had been once upon a time. A china hutch still resided against one wall, but instead of dishes, ammunition filled it. Next to it was a safe and a wall of weapons. Gabby had to admit, the guns were beautiful, everything from nine millimeters to Ak-47s. There was even a grenade launcher. The ATF would have a field day with the collection.
“Sit,” Stone Cold ordered. He stood behind the head chair and stared at them. Eagle and another man pulled out chairs on either side of him. Gabby waited until his V.P. and Kaiya sat before taking his own seat at the opposite end of the Whiskey Knights’ table.
“Warm fuzzies aside, why exactly have you brought us to your compound?” Boone asked, getting the ball rolling immediately.
Stone Cold nodded to the duffel bag that Eagle laid upon the table. “I’ll give you about a hundred thousand reasons.”
“The money belongs to the Men of Hell.”
Stone Cold spread his arms. “And yet you’re at the hospitality of the Whiskey Knights.”
Gabby snorted. Eagle shot him a dark look before glancing back over to Kaiya, which didn’t help Gabby’s mood at all.
“You have a beautiful compound,” Boone said diplomatically. “But we’re on a run ourselves and really need to move on.”
“And I wish to talk potential business,” Stone Cold said.
“Business?” Boone asked.
Stone Cold threaded his fingers and cracked them before settling his hands on his belly. “I propose a working relationship with the Men of Hell.”
“What could we possibly have that the Knights would want?” Boone asked. “Besides the hundred grand, of course.”
“The Men of Hell have a lucrative spot along Interstate 80. Now, I know your cashbox is hurting, so I’m very interested in making a deal to pass through your territory.”
“Colorado.”
“Good,” Boone said. “Keeps you out of our territory. The Men of Hell have trade in Wyoming.”
Stone Cold nodded. “I’m well aware of your relationship with the Red Wolves.”
“The Red Wolves are out of the drug-running business.”
“So I’ve heard,” Stone Cold replied. “Human trafficking. Nasty business all around. Not that I’m feeling the loss of the Demon Devils.”
Boone snorted. “Yeah, neither are we. So this trade route you’re looking for, you could easily pass right by Bair via the interstate. Free range. No need to involve us.”
“I was hoping we could become business associates,” Stone cold said. “Since you have Wyoming you can easily take our product into that market.”
“What’s your product?”
“Meth. Figured since you’re now in business with Red Eye we could be copacetic. We mule for you and you can mule for us. We’ll both increase our revenue and product services.”
Boone crinkled his brow. Gabby remembered two barns guarded far away from anything else. Pretty smart, being on private property as well as putting the dangerous kitchen away from any other building. If there were an accident, the only people who would die would be the chef, his minions, and maybe a prospect or two. Gabby wasn’t sure if getting involved with another club would be beneficial, but that’s why he wasn’t the one making the decisions.
“Romeo will want to talk with you,” Boone said. “It’s subject to a club vote, and that I can’t guarantee would be yes.”
“You can back it,” Stone Cold said. “And to show my gratitude, as well as my apologies for Vicious and Bizerk, please stay with us while we celebrate our Brother’s return.”
“You know Bizerk is dead, right?” Boone said.
The Knights stared at them in shock.
“No,” Stone Cold said slowly. “I hadn’t heard. Who did it?”
Gabby tensed. “Does it matter?”
Madness Ends Page 9