The ride to my house goes by in a blur. I pull into the carport and turn off my bike. Hook parks right beside me.
“Didn’t realize you lived on this side of town.”
I scrub a hand over my face and quirk an eyebrow at him. “Meaning?”
He walks to the front of the carport and looks out over the neighborhood, places his hands on his hips, and then casts an eye over my home.
“This is suburbia. It’s nice suburbia. Me, I live on the south side. Over near the train tracks. The neighbors over there don’t care how much noise the bike makes, but here… I think they’d care.”
I shake my head. “I get the odd noise complaint.” I purse my lips and mimic his stance at the front of the carport. “But we have an understanding. I keep it down, watch out for my neighbors, so there’s no break-ins, no nothin’. They think of me as their personal guardian angel.”
Hook squints at me and nods. “Right.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. Come on, let’s get a beer and get to know each other.”
“You think I don’t know you, Jax?”
I grin at him. “I think you think you know me. So how about we check out the contents of my fridge, and we can see if your conclusions are right?”
“I can do that.”
I unlock my front door, and it opens with a loud creak.
“I can oil that up for you?”
“Nah, early-detection system. Back door is the same. No one’s getting in here without me hearing.”
“You got a dog, too?” asks Hook as he looks at the stainless-steel bowls next to the refrigerator.
“Had. Poor bastard got hit by a car last month. Haven’t replaced him yet.”
Hook curls up a lip and nods. I open the refrigerator and gesture inside.
“Domestic or imported?”
Hook peers inside. “Shiner Bock.”
“Domestic, good choice.” I hand him one and get one for myself.
Then I pull out my cell and dial the local pizza place and order six pizzas.
“Think that’s enough?” teases Hook.
“I can always order more. Sit.” I point at the chairs surrounding my dining table. “Tell me what you think you know about me.”
“Ruthless. You were going to get voted in. How’d you get Alec Petrov to cough up the money? You got something on him?”
I shake my head. “He’s an old…” I pause for effect, “… friend.”
Hook takes a sip of his beer. “Powerful old friend.”
I shrug and peel the corner of my beer label down. “Yeah. Look, Hook, I know you don’t trust me, but I want what’s best for the club. I want to be a good president, and I’ll work damn hard to make it all happen.”
“It’s a moot point. You’re president now. I’ve sworn allegiance. So long as the club prospers and you don’t try to tear us down from within, I meant what I said. I’ll protect you.”
“Good. What do you know about the Wraith?”
“Fucking nothing. Man’s a ghost. All we know is he took out one of our scouts for young women. The fucker was brutal. Karen was a good chick. Brought in plenty of girls. The way he cut her up? Fuck. That was some sick shit. And you know about the others.” Hook’s lips are turned down, a frown mars his face as he takes a long pull from his beer.
Karen was a club whore who found us the young women we sell into the sex trade or to private collectors. I never met her, but I know she was good at her job. The next person he took out was Declan Jones. He handled the merchandise, made sure they were pure—the virgins get us the most money. This Wraith cut his head off. Darius Todd was VP, and he negotiated the deals. We found his body in a warehouse. The fucker tortured him. The last person to die was our president, Thomas Strike, Hammer. He would personally deliver the precious cargo to the buyers. As far as we can tell, this man was after one girl, Ann Felder. She was married to Alec Petrov, head of the Russian mob and our new benefactor.
“Another million into the kitty sounds good, but we need leads to get the fucker. What if we put out a fifty K bounty on him? Do you think it’d be enough for someone to turn on him?”
Hook presses his lips in a firm line and tilts his head. “Maybe, but where do we start?”
The sound of Harleys pierces the air, signifying the others have arrived. Not long after the noise dies, there’s a pounding on my front door. Hook gets up, checks through the window first, then opens the door. I guess he meant it when he said he would look out for me.
Reaper and Tank walk inside. I can tell by Reaper’s expression of distaste that he doesn’t want to be here. I stay seated and wait for them to come to me. When they are about a foot away, I stand and extend my hand to him. He doesn’t hesitate, he shakes it good and hard.
“Beer?” I ask
“Yeah, whatever you’re drinking will be fine.”
“I’ll have one, too,” interjects Tank.
I open my fridge and pull out two Shiner Bocks. The boys all sit around my table, and I hand them their beers.
“I’ve ordered food. Pizzas, hope you like ‘em.”
Reaper squints at me and crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me how you got Alec Petrov to back you?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t go to Alec. You have to know I was making the rounds within the MC to get the vote.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard all about that.” Reaper leans back, picks up his beer, and twists off the cap. “You’re a ruthless bastard, aren’t you, Jax?”
“If I weren’t the best man for the job, I wouldn’t have pressed so hard to get voted in.”
“And Petrov?” asks Tank.
“I’ve known Alec for years. I didn’t ask for his endorsement, but I’m grateful for it.”
“He bought you the presidency. You know that, right?” asks Tank with a sneer.
I straighten up in my seat and reply icily, “I was going to get voted in. Alec sweetened the pot, sealed the deal. My father was in this MC and his before him. I’ve been around the club my whole life. I toed the line under Hammer, respected him, but the fucker got sloppy and got himself killed. I’m not stupid enough to leave myself unprotected.”
Hook nods. “We all know Hammer followed his dick.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“That night, he was meeting up with some chick. It’s what got him killed. Well, that and the fact he told me to stay away.”
“Why’d he do that, Hook? Why didn’t Hammer want you there? You were his Sergeant at Arms, his protector. It didn’t make sense,” says Reaper as he leans forward.
Hook shrugs and looks almost bashful under the scrutiny. “I don’t like to fuck with an audience. I like privacy. Hammer knew this, so he told me I could have the night off. You all know Hammer would fuck on a pool table in full view of the club if he felt like it. It’s not my scene.”
I bark out a laugh and then Tank follows. Pretty soon, all four of us are laughing. Hook’s face has gone a shade of red, and he shrugs again, a grin plastered to his face.
“You’re shy?” I chuckle.
“Man, I can’t fuck with an audience. I get stage fright. So, fuck you all,” he replies with a shake of his head.
There’s a knock at the door, and I go to stand, but Hook shakes his head and goes to the door. He does the same thing as last time checking the window first.
“Food,” Hook states as he opens the door.
Standing there is a pimply-faced teenager who almost shits himself at the mere sight of Hook.
“P-Pizza delivery,” the kid stammers.
“How much?” asks Hook.
“The owner gave you a discount so $126, including tax.”
I get up, pull my wallet out of my back pocket and hand the kid seven twenty-dollar bills. “Keep the change.”
“T-Thank you!”
He hands off the pizzas to Hook and scurries back to his car.
Hook smirks at me. “Let’s eat.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a while. All o
f them help themselves to my beer, and there’s no more talk about how I got to be president. Right now, all they are concerned about is how we’re going to get that extra million off Petrov.
“Hook, you mentioned Hammer was going to hook up with some chick the night he died?” With a mouthful of pizza, Hook nods. “Any chance she set him up?” I ask.
Hook puts down the slice and looks thoughtful. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but she disappeared around the same time, so maybe?”
“I liked her. She ran the bar. Candy was her name,” states Reaper.
“Aren’t they all called that?” I quip.
“Yeah, might as well be. She was good at running the bar, made us a profit,” replies Tank.
“So, where is she?”
The three men around the table all stare blankly at each other.
“You mean to say some whore goes missing, and none of you thought to chase her up?”
Hook shifts in his seat. “She disappeared before Hammer got whacked.”
“Not true,” states Reaper. “Candy came back to the bar. Seems Hammer tried to fuck her, and she bolted. She came back to us trying to get her job back. I saw her. Candy and Hammer looked friendly. It was the night Hammer and Brute bought it.”
“So, she had to be involved.” I look at Hook. “Where does she live?”
“No idea, but you can be sure I’ll find out.”
WRAITH
The cold bites through my coat as I make my way through the streets of Montreux in Switzerland. My daughter, Ann, is still receiving treatment at the clinic here. I have her booked in under a pseudonym in case anyone from her past is hunting for her.
It’s been six months, and she’s resisting treatment. Fucking Alec Petrov and his family sure did a number on her. My girl, my sixteen-year-old girl, really believes he loved her. Ann sees me as the enemy. I’m a monster who stole her away from her life. The doctor said it would take time to reverse the brainwashing, but I didn’t think it would take this long.
I open the door to the clinic, and the wind catches it sending it smashing into the century-old brickwork. I wince as I close it behind me, hoping I haven’t damaged the façade.
“Mr. Smith, good to see you,” says the receptionist as I walk into the building.
“Sorry about the door.”
The woman shrugs and waves a hand at me. “Do not worry. We have been talking about automatic doors for ages, but it is a historical building, and we do not wish to bastardize the aesthetics. My suggestion was to put a rubber strip on the door and the wall.”
I look at her name tag, Elsa. For some reason, it won’t stick, and I’m normally so good with little things like names. You can tell English isn’t her first language with the way she speaks, there’s no shortening of names or slang, it’s all very proper with an accent.
“You are here to see Ann, yes?”
“Yes. Is she in her room?”
Elsa gives me a smile and looks at her computer monitor. A slight frown creases her forehead.
“It seems Doctor Eriksson would like to speak to you.” Elsa pushes a button on her desk, and an orderly appears almost instantly. “Lucas, would you escort Mr. Smith to Doctor Eriksson’s office, please?”
“I know the way.”
Elsa smiles at me. “Yes, but Lucas will escort you.” Then she gestures for us to leave.
I smile and nod, then follow Lucas down the hallway. The walls are all painted white, and the flooring is wood, which has faded to a soft blonde color from years of service. Heat radiates up from the floor keeping the whole building nice and warm. Everything is very clean and expensive. I’ve been in Dr. Eriksson’s office many times, and he has plush red carpet in his office, which I’ve always found rather odd. You’d think he would have chosen something softer in color to blend in. Perhaps that’s the point—the one exciting color in a building decorated in soft tones. It could possibly be a psychological tactic.
Lucas knocks on his door, waits, and when he hears the lock unlock, he opens the door. Out of habit, I look up at the concealed camera above the door. Dr. Eriksson doesn’t let anyone in he doesn’t know. I suppose most of the patients are here for mental issues or drug abuse and could be considered dangerous. At least his locked door might offer him some form of protection from them.
“Ahh… Mr. Smith. So good to see you. Thank you, Lucas, you may go.”
The orderly shows no emotion as he leaves, nor does he say anything. Most of the employees here say little and react even less.
“You wanted to see me, Dr. Eriksson?” I sit in the chair opposite him. His desk, like this building, is old and weathered with intricate patterns carved into the legs. The wood has been polished, so it gleams a lovely cherry red.
The man’s lips turn down slightly. “Yes. Ann isn’t responding to treatment as well as we’d hoped. Her obsession with this Alec Petrov is unsettling. No matter what we do, she’s fixated on him and convinced he’s going to save her.”
“Dr. Eriksson, it’s vitally important Alec Petrov does not find my daughter. His name can’t appear in any correspondence, and it should not be mentioned outside of your offices. The man is dangerous. I’m working toward a solution, but I can’t have him interfering with Ann in any way before that can happen.”
“I completely understand. The main problem with Ann is, she looks to this man as her savior. Unfortunately, she looks at you as her tormentor, the man who destroyed her life.”
“We’ve discussed all this before—”
“Yes, we have, and you’ve made little progress with repairing your relationship with your daughter. You need to try harder.”
I sigh and clench the sides of my chair tighter. I know the man is right, but Ann isn’t making it easy on me, and her mother won’t even come to visit her.
With resignation in my voice, I say, “What do you need me to do?”
You see, there’s nothing I won’t do for my girl. Ann is sixteen, nearly seventeen. I am a member of a special forces unit that’s tied to the CIA. We run black ops. I’m good at it, but being a father, I failed miserably. So here we are in Switzerland, and I’m trying to get my girl to see she was sold to Alec Petrov. Sure, he claimed he loved her. Hell, he even told me he’d married my girl.
Make no mistake though, Alec Petrov will pay for what he’s done.
“Mr. Smith? Mr. Smith, are you listening?”
I shake my head and give the doctor my full attention. “Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts. How do I fix my girl?”
ALEC
The house is cold and lifeless without Ann. She wasn’t the first woman I’d appropriated from the Harbingers, but she was going to be the last. Ann wasn’t scared of me, not even slightly. She ruled this house, the servants, the bodyguards, and me. Even my mother approved of her. Mamma overlooked the fact she wasn’t Russian. She told me Ann was perfect for me. My father gave his blessing, but her father, Ann’s father, ruined everything.
“Sir?”
I’m in my study downstairs staring out at the landscape but not really seeing it. Security has been beefed up considerably since Ann’s abduction. My father insisted on it, but I had already put measures in place.
“What?” I ask without turning around.
“Jax is here.”
Slowly, I turn. “Good. Bring him to me.”
I walk toward my desk and pick up the decanter filled with my favorite whiskey. Turning over two highball tumblers, I pour one for myself and one for Jax. I hear movement behind me, so I hold up Jax’s tumbler high in the air.
“The president is dead! Long live the president,” I yell dramatically and turn to find Jax and one of his men. “Ahh… you have someone with you?”
“This is Hook. He’s Sergeant at Arms in the MC. My bodyguard.”
I tilt my head and take in Jax’s appearance—he looks tired. His friend, though, appears alert as he surveys his surroundings.
Jax takes the tumbler from me, and I offer my own to his escort, who takes it with
a nod. I pour myself another and sit in one of the chairs in my study. There’s another chair and a leather Chesterfield sofa for them to sit on.
I gesture toward the seats and sip my drink. “Do you have news?”
Jax looks at Hook and nods. “Yeah.” He takes a sip of the whiskey and coughs as it burns down his throat. “We’ve got a lead. We’re following it through.”
“On Ann?”
“No, on the Wraith.”
In a fit of rage, I throw my highball tumbler across the room, and it shatters against the far wall, amber liquid sliding down to a sea of glass. “I don’t care about him. I want Ann.”
The door to my study flies open and in rush two guards with guns drawn.
I stand. “Get. Out.” They look around the room, nod, and leave. My gaze falls to Jax. “I’ve promised you a lot of money to get her back.”
“You promised us another million if we brought you the head of the Wraith. You said nothing about Ann,” replies Jax unflinchingly.
“Then the deal has changed. I want the Wraith, and I want my wife back.”
Jax throws back the rest of his whiskey and bares his teeth as it goes down. “Fair enough. But I want your assurance if we bring you the Wraith, you’ll pay us regardless.”
“I need Ann.”
Jax shakes his head. “I can give you a dozen Ann’s. You tell me what you want. Virgin? Blonde?”
I sit back down and glare at him. “There will never be another Ann. Do not…” I pause and point at him. “Do not suggest that to me ever again. Are we clear?”
“We’re clear.”
Jax stands and walks toward my desk, pouring himself another whiskey. “If we find the Wraith, we might find Ann.”
“Makes sense. He’s her father.”
“What?” replies Hook loudly.
I frown and stare at him. “What?”
Hook leans forward, and I notice his drink is untouched. “The Wraith is Ann’s father? How do you know this?”
Wraith Page 6
