Running on a few hours of sleep and an entire pot of coffee, I'm sitting here in the clubhouse, at the bar waiting for my men to arrive. One by one they drag their asses in. Fender and Kiwi are the first through the door. I know the moment Wick is on the property when the unmistakable rumble of his Harley reverberates the glass windows. The man is not subtle about anything. He revs the engine a few more times before the sound goes silent and his big ass walks through the entrance.
"When did you get in, brother?" Leaving my seat, I stride across the room, meeting him halfway, greeting him with a handshake.
"Drove in this morning."
"How's your momma?" I inquire as we head back to the bar area.
"She's good. Helped the old man get her home and settled a couple of hours ago." Wick eyes me, his eyebrow raised. "How's the leg healing?"
"Good." I turn my head when the clubhouse door opens. The last person to arrive — my brother. He's late often, but I try not to ride his ass about it under the circumstances. Heading toward the stairs, I announce, "the girls cooked this morning. Grab your asses some grub. Church in ten."
Not bothering to eat, Wick, and my brother follow behind me. The space we hold church is in the back of the building opposite the converted kitchen. Opening the door, I walk inside. Windows span the entire back wall giving us the perfect view of the muddy Mississippi River. Stopping, I gaze out at the murky water and watch one of two barges slowly float downstream and think about the shit that went down last night, and what we need to do about it.
Turning around, I pull my chair from the table and sit. The other men file in, and Fender closes the door behind him. "Now, let's get down to the reason we are all here. Jake called this morning. He has a little problem he'd like us to handle for him. Some fucker is stickin' his nose where it doesn't belong, so some of us are takin' a trip to Texas.
"When?" Cain asks.
"Today. Jake's man, Reid, emailed some interesting information on the guy we're after. Before I left home, I did some diggin' of my own, and if we play our cards right, and make good timing, we might catch the bastard with his pants down."
Wick folds his arms over his chest. "Is this a clean favor, or do we need to get our hands dirty on this one?"
"More like blackmail, but that is not to say he will not go unharmed," I fight off a grin. "The dirty fucker deserves to tote an ass woopin'. And I plan to give it to him. But I'm leaving you here along with Cain." Wick slumps in his chair. I know he lives for these things. "I need you two here to handle the businesses. I also need the two of you to see what you can do about these street dealers. They keep comin' around the bar pushin' drugs when they've been warned more than once not to come back. Kiwi, Fender, you two are riding out with me at noon," I inform them. Looking around the table, I ask, "anyone have anything else to add?" Looks exchange across the table and no one adds to the meeting. "Alright, we all have things to do, so let's get them done." Knocking my knuckles on the table, I end church.
A few hours later, Fender, Kiwi and I are on the road heading west. Thankful for good weather, we make it to our destination. By the time we pull into the parking lot of the hotel we are staying in, our asses are dragging. Not having time to make a reservation anywhere, I dismount my bike. "Wait here," I tell my men and stride across the parking lot. Once inside, I walk to the check-in counter — the receptionist stares. "Need a couple of rooms." I pull my wallet from my pocket, take my bank card out, and toss it on the counter. She blinks a few times and blushes slightly.
"Sorry." Fumbling with the keyboard in front of her, she does her best to focus on the computer screen. Amused by her reaction to me, I grin.
"Um, we only have one queen double available." Her eyes lift to mine, and she bites her lower lip.
"That will have to do darlin'."
She smiles. "And how many guests are staying?"
"Three." I wait for her to enter my information, then she hands me the key card.
"You're in room 45. You'll find it on the back side near the pool."
Putting my wallet away, I take the card from her, nod, and walk out. "Room is around back." I swing my leg over my bike. Firing them up again, we roll around back, past the pool she mentioned where a couple of ladies are lying next to the pool in lounge chairs.
"God damn. Do you see her titties?" Kiwi ogles the women as we walk up to the motel room door. The women take notice to Kiwi checking them out, and big tits exposes herself. "Holy shit, man. It's true what they say — everything's bigger in Texas." Kiwi nods in her direction, giving her a wink.
"We're not here to get our dicks wet, brother." Walking into the outdated, but clean room, I sit down in a chair beside the bed nearest the door, lean back, and stretch my legs out in front of me.
"Do we have an extra room, or is this it?" Fender takes a final drag from the cigarette in his hand before flicking it to the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of his boot, before stepping into the room.
"This is it," I confirm as Fender closes the door.
"I'm not sleepin' in the same bed with dipshit here." Fender plops down on the bed near the bathroom. "The last time we had to bunk together in the same damn bed, I woke up with his arms wrapped around me."
"What? I'm a cuddler." Kiwi starts laughing, and I chuckled along with him because I know the story.
"Your morning wood was pressed against my ass, dickhead." Fender tries to keep a straight face about it but loses it. It was some funny ass shit. Kiwi fucked with him all day about it.
"So, what's the game plan, Prez?" Kiwi gets serious.
I check my watch. "From what I've been told, he gives his staff the day off every Tuesday, and I want to take advantage of no one being present during our little visit."
"Go in, midday?" Kiwi looks confused. Usually, I wouldn't risk it, but timing is everything. "He lives in a more rural area, located on several acres of land, so I don't think the time of day will be an issue."
After getting a quick bite to eat at the small diner next to the motel, we ride out to the other side of town. We case the property a few times, shocked to find this guy has no security posted anywhere; we formulated our entry plan. The only vehicle in sight, a black Bentley. You would think a high-profile attorney, looking to run for office, would have better security. Something to protect his blackmailing ass from retaliation. Instead he has a high-end piece of shit home security system between my men and himself. To the average person looking to break into his home the system would be intimidating, but for Kiwi, it's nothing. He was able to bypass the access code in under two minutes.
Once inside, we split up, making sure the house is empty except for our guest of honor. Making my way up the staircase, I hear muffled voices coming from the room down the hall. Fender and Kiwi find their way upstairs.
"The house is clear." Kiwi raises one hand, holding up a piece of fried chicken, "Found the kitchen," he grins and bites into the leg. I roll my eyes.
"His office is downstairs. Could be something useful in there," Kiwi tells me. We hear a high pitched giggle come from behind the bedroom door, followed by a deep throated moan. "We're about to set this motherfucker off."
"Get your phone ready," I inform Kiwi, who promptly retrieves it from his pocket.
Just outside the door, I turn the handle and walk right in like I own the place. In front of us, a king-sized bed and bodies moving beneath the bed sheets. I slam the door behind us. McGregor's head emerges, clearly stunned before anger replaces the shock written all over his face seeing three grown men standing in his love den.
"What the hell is going on! Get out of my house before I call the police!" he bellows. At the sound of his panicked voice, a young woman scurries from his bed, quickly covering her naked body with a robe draped across the arm of the chair next to the bed. When I say young, I mean she barely looks legal.
McGregor moves, and I shake my head, warning him his actions are a bad idea. "You sure you want to call the police?" I taunt him, then turn toward the girl.
"How old are you, sweetheart?"
"Hey! What are you doing over there?" McGregor looks past my shoulder in Kiwi's direction. His face turns a nice shade of white. "Is he recording me? Turn the camera off," his voice breaks with nerves.
"No. I don't think we will." Stepping further to the side, I look at my brother. "Kiwi, you keep that camera rollin'." McGregor makes a motion and reaches for his nightstand. Fender advances toward him, and the lawyer throws his hands up.
"Look, I'll pay. I have the money. Just take what it is you want and leave." His voice cracks knowing he's in some deep shit, with no shovel.
I loathe men like him — powerful, influential men with money, who abuse it. "How do you think the great citizens of Texas would react knowin' their potential Governor likes dippin' his wick in barely legal pussy?"
McGregor sticks out his chin, defiant against my words. "She's twenty. Still, you can't show that video."
Taking my time, I stroll across the room, take a seat in his high-priced leather chair, spread my legs, pull a cigarette from my cut, strike a match on the bottom of my boot, and light a smoke. Cocking my head, I eye him for a beat. "It's not your little girlfriend's age that has you shittin' your pants right now, is it?" I take a pull from the cigarette. "You don't want people knowin' you're fuckin' a judge's daughter." I flick some ashes to the floor. "You seem to have gotten yourself into a hole you can't dig out of." His face falls, and his eyes dart across the room to where the young girl is standing, her face cast down looking at the floor.
"What is it you want?" McGregor asks nervously.
"Word is, you've been fuckin' with my brothers. I'm gonna assume you weren't bankin' on how far of a reach The Kings have." Giving him a pointed stare, I warn him. "Know this motherfucker; there ain't a place on earth The Kings can't touch." My cold words reach their mark as I watch McGregor gulp. Standing, I drop my cigarette to the floor, snubbing it out with my boot. "Besides ATF, you got any more surprises for my friends?" I question him. He nods.
"Yeah, I reported my piece of shit son's girlfriend to immigration. Sam is nothing but a fuck up and a disappointment to his family." The moment the last word leaves his mouth, I'm across the room, knocking him unconscious with a single blow to the side of his head.
"Shit, Prez," Fender moves up beside me; we stare down on McGregor. Fender shakes his head. "Damn shame to have an old man as cold as him."
"That's not a man. That right, there is a spineless pig, who hides behind his money." My attention shifts to the young girl left standing on the opposite side of the bed, softly sobbing. "Go on and get dressed. We'll walk you out." I go easy on her. She has seen enough, more than she should have. She picks up her things and heads toward the en-suite bathroom. "And just so we're clear on a couple of things," The young lady stops and her eyes slowly lift to mine. "One; you're better than this." I point to McGregor, who moans a few times as he starts to come around. "Better than this asshole. Two; I wouldn't go talkin' about what happened here today. You go on with your life as if you never knew this piece of shit, and you never saw us." I warn her, and tears start streaming down her face. She nods, then disappears into the bathroom.
"What do we do about him?" Kiwi asks.
"Fender, cuff his ass to the bed. Kiwi, I want you downstairs seeing what dirt you can find in his office." The young girl walks back out fully clothed. "Take her with you. Babysit her. I don't want her leaving the property until we leave with her." I turn and look back at McGregor. "We'll be down just as soon as we finish with our new lawyer friend here. And send the video and those pictures to Jake's man, Reid."
"Already sent."
"Good."
Without questioning my motives, Kiwi guides the young woman out of the room. "What are you thinking?" Fender waits for my next move. Grabbing a pair of handcuffs, I noticed laying on the nightstand, and I use them to cuff McGregor to the bedpost. McGregor starts to wake; his eyes roll back in his head a few times before they finally settle on me.
"I'll make sure you and the rest of that club of yours rot in prison," he spits.
"You won't do shit. This is what is going to happen. You'll leave The Kings, and anyone associated with us alone, or that little video my man recorded earlier will find its way to the inbox of every local news station in Texas. We've got much more shit on you, so just in case you think you can sweep something under the rug remember that little fact. I got a guy down in your office as we speak. Pretty sure he'll find a little more dirt while he's in there." McGregor's eyes widen, telling me I'm right. He yanks on his cuffed wrists, and I turn to leave.
"You can't leave me here like this," he looks down at his naked body, half covered with a bedsheet. "You'll be sorry, you piece of shit," he yells as I make my way toward the door. I pause.
"Prez," Fender notices the look in my eyes. He knows I don't take kindly to threats — of any kind. Spinning on my heel, I pull my weapon from the safety of its holster, and before McGregor can blink, I have the end of the barrel firmly pressed between his eyes.
"Shit — shit — okay — okay," he pleads.
Without saying another word, I turn and walk out of the room. I look over at Fender. "He has staff members who should be here in a few hours. One of them will find him. Make sure the judge's daughter didn't leave anything behind. I don't want her caught up in anything, should something fall back on us. We leave no other evidence we were here."
"Got it."
Just then, my phone vibrates inside the inner pocket of my cut. It's a blocked number, so it can only be one person. "Brother," I answer.
"What you got for me, man?" Jake asks immediately. I look over my shoulder at the man lying on the bed.
"McGregor won't be a problem anymore," I state, then add, "tell Reid to check his email. Kiwi sent a little present." With that, I hang up.
After taking care of business, we leave the room and make our way downstairs, finding this guy's office, and run into Kiwi in the process. "Shit, sorry, Prez," Kiwi takes a step back. I notice he has a file folder in his right hand, and the girl standing behind him. "Found some good shit in there," he lifts his hand. "This guy has dirt on just about every important figure in Texas."
"Let's get out of here. Did you clean the surveillance feed?" I ask as we exit through the back door, we entered in.
"No one will ever know we were here," Kiwi confirms.
I send Kiwi and Fender down the driveway where the bikes are parked in the woods so we wouldn't be heard earlier and walk the young girl to her car. She opens her door and slides in. Leaning down, I ask her, "McGregor have something on your dad?" She hesitates to answer me. Her lips quiver and she finally explains.
"I thought I could sleep with him, get some dirt on him. Play him at his own game." She wrings her fingers together. "I would have taken it all the way today if you and your friends hadn't busted in." Her eyes lift to mine, tears streaming down her face. "I guess I should be thanking you."
"You remember what I said before. No, talkin'."
She nods. "I swear I won't say a word."
Looking over my shoulder, I can see the guys in the distance waiting for me. I look back at her. "Get on out of here." Taking a step back, she closes her car door, starts the engine, and pulls away. I watch her car disappear as I'm walking down the driveway. Mounting our bikes, we take off, back toward the other side of town.
Chapter Four
Luna
Standing in front of the mirror, I inspect the bruises on my face. I have two black eyes and bruising along my jaw. With the way I look, I'm surprised I didn't suffer any broken bones. Turning away from the mirror, I reach into the shower and turn the water on, letting it heat up. I then strip out of the hospital gown and step into the stall. I wince as the water hits my battered body. Taking a shower is almost unbearable. Despite the pain in my ribs, I push through. I couldn't stand to lay in my filth for any longer. Though the nurse tried to clean me the best she could yesterday, I still had dirt and blood caked in my hair. One of the nu
rses was kind enough to bring me a pair of scrubs since I didn't have any clothes to change into. When they brought me into the ER, I had on sleep shorts and a t-shirt. Those were also covered in mud and blood.
After brushing my teeth, I comb my long blonde hair before pulling it up into a messy bun on the top of my head. Glancing in the mirror one last time, I conclude this is the best I'm going to get, but I'm thankful to feel halfway human again. Turning the knob on the door, I push it open, and I am startled by the police officer standing in my hospital room. I recognize him as the officer that has been assigned to watch over me. He has yet to introduce himself, but I was able to catch a glimpse of his face last night as the doctor came by to check on me. I don't know what it is about this man, but the way he is looking at me now causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand and a wave of unease to settle in the pit of my stomach. A moment later, he speaks. "Just came to check on you, Miss Novak," he says as I read his lips.
Swallowing hard, I nod. Something strange passes over the officer's face, just as Detective Brooks walks into the room. I can't see what she says to the officer, but by the look on her face, she is not pleased with him being in my room. Without another word, the officer turns and walks out, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Turning toward me, Detective Brooks speaks. "I have something I'd like to discuss with you. I have requested the hospital translator come down, but the nurse said it would be a few minutes."
Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, I ignore the burning pinch in my ribs as I reach over, grabbing the notebook and pen laying on the bedside table. We don't have to wait. We can talk now.
Just then, Marie, the translator bursts through the door and immediately begins to sign. "Sorry I'm late."
"That's okay," I tell her. "Detective Brooks just got here."
"Thank you, Marie, for coming on such short notice," Detective Brooks says then brings her attention back to me. "First things first. Here you go," she hands over my purse. "This was recovered from the Savage Outlaw clubhouse."
Riggs (The Kings of Retribution MC, Louisiana Chapter Book 1) Page 4
