Devil's Disciples MC Series- The Complete Boxed Set

by Scott Hildreth

  I began to feel uneasy about everything, especially disposing of the body. If Rick McNown was as big of a deal as Goose portrayed him to be, he was right. People would be looking for him. People who knew what to look for.

  It wouldn’t be a simple, damn this guy got murdered exclamation from the detectives in charge. A no-holds-barred investigation would be demanded by the victim’s family, the television station, and the producers of the news show he hosted.

  “I’m not sure she’d hold up well under pressure,” I admitted. “But I don’t know her too well.”

  “Perfect,” Goose said in a sarcastic tone. He glanced around the kitchen. “Where the fuck do we start?”

  I took a step away from the body and glanced around the kitchen. It looked like a mass murder had taken place. There was no way Goose and I could correct the mess in a manner that would prevent police from later finding forensic clues as to what had happened.

  I faced Goose. “You opposed to me calling someone outside the club?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  “You’ve met Braxton,” I said. “Rumor has it that he might be better suited to take care of situations like this than we are.”

  He coughed out a laugh. “You’re shittin’ me. That fine-dressed motherfucker cleans up messes like this?”

  “I don’t have any concrete information to support my thoughts,” I said. “But there’s speculation on that subject. I just. I haven’t asked specifics.”

  He stared blankly. “What makes you think—”

  “I’ve got a hunch,” I said.

  “You’re prepared to call him and ask?”

  I scanned the kitchen cabinets. I had no idea how we’d clean the mess even if we had a year to do so. “I think so.”

  “If you trust him, I trust him,” he said. “Call him.”

  Using my burner phone, I called Braxton’s number. After four rings, he answered.

  “Braxton Rourke. How can I help you?”

  “Remember that TV show we were talking about on Sunday?” I asked, not bothering to identify myself or the television show by name.

  He cleared his throat. “I do.”

  Cautious not to say too much over an unsecure phone line, I proceeded carefully. “I need to talk to someone like the star of the show.”

  “Keep talking,” he said. “He’s listening.”

  The white shirt Braxton wore beneath his tailored sport coat was crisp, as if it had just been pressed. His jeans were dark enough that I mistook them for navy-colored slacks. I couldn’t see his shoes because they were covered in Tyvek booties, but I suspected they were fine Italian dress shoes. They always were.

  Shaking his head while he surveyed the mess, he stepped into the kitchen. He studied the deceased newscaster while rubbing the salt-and-pepper stubble of his neatly trimmed beard.

  “Whose handiwork is this?” he asked without looking up.

  “Friend of Reggie’s.” I nodded at the corpse. “He tried to rape her.”

  “Have you searched the body?”

  “Goose did,” I replied. “He had car keys, a burner phone, loose cash, and a wallet.”

  “Leave all of it with me.” Following a quick study of the pool of blood, he glanced at Goose’s feet and then at mine. “I’ll need each of you to leave your boots, too.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m not leaving my—”

  “You sure as fuck are,” he insisted, pointing at the bloody footprints on the outskirts of the ocean of blood. “Both of you two geniuses tracked your feet through this blood. His DNA is all over the soles of your boots. I don’t do anything half-assed. You’re leaving the boots. No loose ends. When I walk away, this didn’t happen. Not here, anyway.”

  Goose handed Braxton the dead man’s possessions.

  Braxton looked at the key. “Didn’t see a Benz outside. Where’s the car?”

  “At the bar where these two met,” I replied. “Bart’s Lounge, over on West Covina.”

  He flipped the phone open and scrolled through the menu. “No other cell phone?”

  “I didn’t see one, no.”

  “Where is the party responsible for this clusterfuck?”

  “At Reggie’s.”

  He glanced around. “She needs to stay there for about six more hours.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  He pinned me in place with a glare.

  Most would describe Braxton as a nice-looking man who possessed an obvious air of confidence. At least that’s what they’d say until he glared at them. Describing his stare as intimidating was a grotesque understatement.

  I cleared my throat. “I’ll make sure she stays there.”

  “Both of you. Listen up,” Braxton demanded. “When you got here, he was gone. The only three people that will know otherwise are standing in this room, and that won’t change.” He glanced at Goose and then at me. “Ever. Make sure Reggie’s friend stays where she is. You two need to find something else to do until about eight, then show up like you just got done cleaning this place up. When you talk to her, downplay the condition of the scene. Explain that it wasn’t that bad. Tell her you cleaned up the mess and threw the skillet in the San Diego Bay.”

  I gawked at him in disbelief.

  His eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem?”

  “No. I’m just wondering what your plan is.”

  His stare lingered. Upon making me feel uncomfortable for asking, he looked away. “Don’t let her return until eight o’clock,” he said dryly. He tilted his head toward the front of the house. “Leave your boots at the door.”

  231

  Reggie

  Shocked by Tito’s statement, Mel’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “He didn’t leave a note, or anything? He just left?”

  “Considering the blood loss, I’m guessing he wasn’t in a very talkative mood,” Tito said with a laugh. “He was probably in a hurry to get his head wrapped with some gauze. From what you said, you smacked him pretty good. I’m guessing he was a little embarrassed, too.”

  “He looked dead,” Mel said.

  “I’m sure he did.” Tito poured a cup of coffee. He faced Mel and took a sip. “Unconscious and covered in blood is a close resemblance of death.”

  Mel glanced in her coffee cup, and then looked at Tito. She let out a sigh. “Everything’s cleaned up? No blood on my floor or anything?”

  “As good as brand new,” Tito assured her.

  I feared the three of us would be conspirators in a murder charge. Furthermore, I was sure Mel wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut regarding what happened. A huge gossip and an open book when alcohol is added, Mel’s ability to keep a secret was worse than Raymond’s. Thankful that the man in question was alive—and gone—I released a mental sigh of relief.

  Mel stood and turned toward the coffee pot. “I can’t believe you got everything cleaned up. Thank you.”

  Tito sauntered past her. He leaned over and kissed me before taking his seat. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” She coughed in opposition. “There was blood everywhere.”

  “I’m sure it seemed bad to you. It really wasn’t,” he claimed. “We drove around for a few hours trying to find cleaning products. It was five in the morning or so before we got the things we needed. By that time, Goose was hungry, so we stopped at IHOP for breakfast. I bet we didn’t spend an hour cleaning up.”

  Mel poured a cup of coffee and took her seat beside me. “Well, I’m glad he’s gone, and I’m glad there’s not a mess. That guy was creepy as fuck.”

  Tito looked up from his cup of coffee. “Who was he?”

  “I don’t know,” Mel replied. “Some weirdo from the bar.”

  I looked at her like she was nuts. “You need to stop dragging those creeps out of the bar. One of these days you’re going to get hurt. Or killed.”

  “Believe me.” She raised her cup of coffee in toast. “I’m done.”

  I scowle
d. “I sure hope so.”

  “You didn’t know him?” Tito asked, seeming surprised by Mel’s claim. “He was just some random guy from the bar?”

  Mel leveled her eyes at Tito. “Don’t you start in on me, too. I don’t want to hear it.”

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I was just asking.”

  “No,” she responded in a snide tone. “I didn’t know him. He bought me a drink. All I know was that his name was Griff or Biff or something. Fuck, I don’t remember.”

  “I was just wondering if there was a possibility of you running into him again.” Tito sipped his coffee. “Might be awkward.”

  Mel shook her head. “I’m never going back to that bar again I can tell you that much. That guy was gross. He asked me if he could take a dump on my chest.”

  “What?!” I turned to face her. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I just thought of it. He started talking about it on the way to my house. Just, like, oh, I’ve got some friends that like to shit on girl’s chests. I said that’s fucking gross. He said it wasn’t a big deal, and that some guys get off on it. I said, Some guys? Like you? He just shrugged and gave me this weird look, like, are you sure you think it’s gross? He was nasty.”

  I gave her a look. “What’s really gross is that after all that, you took him in your house.”

  “Yeah. That should have been my first clue,” she said. “Note to self. If your date wants to take a shit between your tits, prepare for a bad night.”

  “I wonder about you, sometimes,” I said.

  “I wonder about me, too,” she admitted. “I’ve had a string of bad luck when it comes to men.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You make bad decisions.”

  She glared at each of us. “I feel like I’m being attacked. Again. The only difference is that you two don’t have knives at my throat. Give it a rest.”

  Regardless of how she got into the predicament she was in she didn’t deserve to have a knife held to her throat. She needed to learn from her mistakes and move forward. Being verbally attacked by Tito and me wasn’t doing her any good.

  “I won’t say another word,” I said. “I’m sure you learned your lesson.”

  Tito pinched his index finger and thumb together and zipped his lips closed.

  Mel finished her cup of coffee in one gulp and then stood. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a murder scene. The last thing I need is your dad coming after me. That guy’s relentless.”

  “True. He’s like a Mountie. He always gets his man.” I raised my brows. “Or woman.”

  232

  Tito

  Wednesdays had always been the one day of the week that I looked forward to. Now, I saw hump day as nothing more than a hassle. The mid-week meeting with the MC was once an opportunity to rub elbows with people I liked to call my friends. Now, the get togethers were more of an evil necessity.

  “The system is archaic,” I explained. “The cameras lack any pan or zoom features, and there are no motion detectors. The entire thing can be disabled by snipping one wire. We’ll have as long as we need to rid the shop of the coin collection.”

  Baker looked at me like I had developed a sure-fire cure for male-pattern baldness. He sprung from his seat. “No shit?”

  I closed my notebook. “No shit.”

  His look went serious. “Nearly a month of research, and it’s that easy?”

  My priorities hadn’t been the club, or the club’s need for my services. My focus had been Reggie, and I didn’t see that changing anytime in the future. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to make excuses for what I had done, or what I planned to do in the future.

  “It was an evening of research that took a month to implement,” I replied. “I’ve been busy.”

  “All that matters is that we can pull this thing off without a hitch.”

  “Looks simple to me.” I shifted my gaze from him to Cash. “As long as Cash doesn’t fuck something up.”

  “Fuck you, midget,” Cash spouted.

  “Every close call we’ve had can be traced back to something you’ve done,” I said through my teeth. “You fuck everything up.”

  “Fucking this up will be impossible,” Cash argued. “In and out in minutes. Stupid little town with a stupid little two-man police force, and some stupid coin shop guy with a stupid fucking alarm.”

  Goading Cash into an argument wasn’t a difficult thing to do. I gave him a side-eyed look of disgust. “Sounds like a great place for some stupid fucker to do something stupid.”

  “E-fucking-nough,” Baker growled. “Jesus with you two.”

  I addressed the group with my eyes. The shared mood amongst the MC members was soft, almost subdued. The emotional fire we shared while planning a job was absent. I wondered how many of the others shared my thoughts and feelings, especially after my tirade with Cash a few weeks prior.

  “I’ve got something else I need to say,” I said. “An idea to present to the club. A proposition, of sorts.”

  Baker scratched his beard with the tips of his fingers. He did it when he was uncertain. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I think it’s time we make some changes.”

  “Like what?” Baker asked.

  It was a simple thing to think of but difficult to address, especially when everyone’s mood was somber.

  I exhaled a long breath. “After this job, I say we do things on the up and up. No more crimes.”

  Cash leaped up from his seat. The veins on his muscular neck bulged. “What the fuck?” he bellowed. He glanced at Goose, Reno, and then Ally. “Somebody get this guy a fucking replacement hat. He’s going nuts without it.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with the hat,” I said, trying to remain calm. “It’s got to do with statistics.”

  “You and your fucking statistics,” he seethed. “What bullshit are you going to tell us now?”

  “We’ve been doing this for more than fifteen years. We’ve never been caught. The odds of—”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve never been caught because we’re better than everyone else.”

  “Sooner or later, we will be caught,” I argued. “It’s only a matter of time.” I looked at Baker. “I don’t think I want to continue to take the risk.” I glanced at everyone except for Cash, who was now pacing the floor. “We’re getting older. Everyone’s in a relationship. We’ve got a lot at risk. And, if one of us does something, we’re all going to be punished for it. Under the RICO act, if I kill someone, everyone here goes down for murder. I’ve never done this for money. Completing a job gave me a sense of self-worth. It provided affirmation that I was on top of my game. Now? Now I don’t need that. I know my abilities. Most of all, I don’t want to spend the second half of my life behind bars.”

  Cash faced me and began to clap softly. “I don’t know whether to shed a tear or call bullshit on your little speech. What do you need? Some attention?” He spread his arms wide. “A hug?”

  I gave him a shitty look. “I’m serious.”

  “He’s got a good point,” Ally said. “Each job puts us out there. We almost got it on that bank job in—”

  Cash spun to face her. “Oh, Jesus. You, too?”

  “We don’t need the money,” she explained. “I’m doing this because—”

  “Big fucking surprise that you don’t need the fucking money,” Cash snapped, his tone expressing irritation and jealousy. “Ghost left you a multi-million-dollar home and who knows how many millions in—”

  Goose shot up from his seat. “Hold up a minute, motherfucker.” He puffed his chest. “I’ve got what I’ve got because I’m responsible.”

  With his eyes locked on Goose, Cash lifted his chin slightly. “And I’m not?”

  “No,” Goose said. “You’re sure as fuck not.”

  “Fuck you,” Cash spat. He looked at me. “And, fuck you.” He glanced at Baker. “You don’t have anything to say about this bullshit? If the little man s
ays we should stop working for a living, we just stop?”

  “I haven’t had an opportunity to get a word in edgewise,” Baker complained. “I was going to—”

  “Fuck this shit,” Cash muttered. “Whatever you’ve got to say, you can say to my back.”

  With those words, Cash stomped toward the door. As we all stared with open mouths, he got on the elevator and rode it to the basement.

  Before we had a chance to continue the conversation, the sound of Cash’s motorcycle being started echoed off the building’s walls. Then, the muffled drone of the engine accelerating faded into the distance.

  I looked at Baker. “Everyone here can decide for themselves.” I glanced at Goose, Ally, and Reno. “Short of me, everyone here has a family outside of this family. They’ve got a family they have created or are in the process of creating. The tattoos on our back spell it out clearly: family over all. Things have changed. Our family is no longer contained within the limits of this room. I feel like we’re all on borrowed time, and I don’t like it.”

  Baker put his hands on his hips. His gaze fell to the floor. A long breath escaped him before he looked up. “I’m not disagreeing with you, Tito. It’s just. I wasn’t really prepared for this. You took me by surprise. I can’t say it isn’t something that I’ve thought about from time to time, especially after that job up by Torrey Pines.”

  “I’m not asking for an answer right now,” I said. “I want this to be addressed after everyone’s had time to think about it. Being incarcerated for our crimes isn’t something I want to have to worry about any longer.”

  Baker looked at everyone else. “Why don’t we all give this some thought. Like I said, I wasn’t prepared. Now that it’s been mentioned, I’m afraid if I don’t act on it that I’ll be destined to be reminded of why I should have.”

  Reno nodded. “I’m with Tito. We’ve been on borrowed time for a decade, Bake. We’ve been nearly caught a dozen times or more. We have been caught once. Luckily it was by a dirty cop. If a dirty cop can catch us, a clean one can, too. When that day comes, we’re toast. I like thinking this can last forever, but it ain’t likely that’ll ever happen.”