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Motorcycle Master: Bad Boy Angel (Alpha Male Master Series Book 1)

Page 13

by Maggie Carpenter


  "Hey, Leo."

  "Hey, Marco," Leo said solemnly, rising from the table and moving over to greet him.

  "Anything going on?"

  "Yeah, I have some news. I'll tell you in the office."

  "Sure. Hey, Jim. How are you?"

  "Been better," Jim grunted. "This place...I can't imagine it without Kratos and Dennis."

  "Yeah, I know."

  "And we've got a problem with the bar, not that anyone's coming in, but they might later when the word spreads."

  "What's the problem?"

  "Someone cleaned out the cash register. I ran to the ATM and pulled out some money of my own just to give myself some change."

  "No shit," Marco frowned, though he assumed Kratos had emptied it on his way out. "I'm about to check the accounts. I'll see what's what, but don't worry, you'll get it back."

  "Are you officially the boss now?"

  "Yeah," Leo interjected, then turning to Marco and looking at him gravely, he added, "that's what I need to talk to you about."

  "Then let's do it."

  They walked through the swinging doors and down the hallway to the office. The door was wide open. It was an odd sight, and moving inside Marco closed it behind them.

  "This is how I found it when I came in last night," Leo remarked, "the safe's open and empty."

  "As far as I know only Kratos and Dennis had the combination," Marco said moving across the room and staring at the solid steel antique. "We'll have to find someone to come in and reset it, if that's even possible."

  "If they were the only ones who could get in there..."

  Leo's voice trailed off as he tried to figure out why Kratos would have robbed himself, if that's what had happened.

  "I think we're going to have a lot more questions than answers over the next few days, but tell me, what's this news?"

  "I talked to the guys, and they don't want any power struggles. You seem like the obvious choice to take over for Kratos, but..."

  "But?"

  "They'll understand if you say no."

  "Why would I say no?"

  "Seems like it's suddenly not the safest job in the world. We don't know shit. Kratos, Dennis, Mike and Tank. Aren't you worried you'll be next if you sit behind that desk?"

  "I admit, I am a bit, but I want to find out what happened, and there's something else."

  "What's that?"

  Marco stared at him, then turning away he moved across to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

  "You want one?"

  "Sure."

  Picking up a second bottle he carried it back with him and handed it to Leo, then moving behind the desk he sat down in the chair once inhabited by Kratos. It was surprisingly uncomfortable.

  "What's the something else?" Leo pressed.

  "Kratos had an appointment the morning of the accident, and he told me about it."

  "What kind of appointment."

  "An appointment he wasn't sure he'd walk away from," Marco declared. "There has to be a connection."

  Though Marco had no way of knowing whether the nanny cam behind the picture was working, he was having the conversation with Leo strictly for the benefit of whoever was watching, hoping the information would reach HH.

  "Where was it? Who was it with? What was it about?" Leo demanded. "Let's go and find out if that motherfucker has anything to do with all this shit."

  "I'm not sure how to deal with it. I need to think it through."

  "What's to think through? When the boys get back we'll ride over there, all of us, together. Tell me who Kratos was meeting? Let's kill the bastard. Why not?"

  "Why not? That's a good question, and maybe that's exactly what we should do, though I doubt we'd all come back in one piece."

  "Hey, if that scumbag took out Kratos and Dennis and Mike, we'll take our chances!"

  "There might be a better way to handle this. Let me think about it. In the meantime I'm going to find out what kind of state this tavern is in. I have to see if we have any money in the accounts and I need to arrange a wake. Do you think you could help me with that? I was thinking maybe tomorrow. Start in the afternoon with a memorial service and carry on from there."

  "Yeah, you betcha, it'd be an honor, and Jim will get some help in the kitchen. We can do burgers and fries."

  "That's great, thanks, Leo."

  "Maybe we should take the photograph off the wall and put it on an easel out in the tavern."

  "Sounds like a plan, or..."

  "Whatta you thinking?"

  "We could set up a shrine in here. Move the couch away and put something together underneath it. People could come in here a few at a time. Make it kinda personal."

  "I like that, Marco. I like that a whole bunch," Leo said with a catch in his voice. "This office may not be much, but was his fuckin' throne room, ya know?"

  "Yep. I know."

  "Okay, I'll go out and talk to Jim about the wake and start calling people."

  "Sounds good, Leo. Close the door behind you."

  "Sure. See you in a bit."

  Leo walked away, and as Marco began opening the drawers and going through their contents, he pretended to knock over a mug. It fell to the floor and broke into pieces. Bending down, as he placed the bits on top of the desk, he began searching underneath it, looking for the mysterious piece of string Kratos had instructed him to find. He spotted it hanging from behind the bottom file drawer. Giving it a gentle tug, he discovered it was taped to a sealed envelope. Folding it up he pushed it into his pocket, then finished cleaning up the broken mug, carefully dropping the crockery shards into a small wastebasket. Carrying it with him he headed from the room and out the side door, leaving it next to the dumpster.

  Across the street was a diner he often frequented. It was the perfect place to read the letter in peace and privacy, and he jogged across to the humble eatery. Settling into a back booth next to the window he ordered coffee and a slice of hot apple pie and ice-cream, opened the envelope, pulled out the letter and began to read.

  Hey Brooder:

  Yeah, I'm gone, but not dead. Nancy and I have started a new life. Even though I told you not to stick around I knew you would, and I know why, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

  The waitress arrived with his coffee and pie, and pausing, Marco took a sip and stared out at the street. Though Kratos was a murderer and a criminal, Marco felt a pang. The man had meticulously planned and executed his escape from the violent world in which he'd lived, only to meet his end in a bizarre and totally unexpected accident.

  "You never know when it's coming," Marco muttered. "None of us do."

  Feeling slightly unnerved, he took a breath and sent his eyes back to the letter.

  Dennis is dead, and Mike will be arrested for his murder. If Dennis hasn't been found yet, he's in the trunk of a car in Mike's yard. The huge photo of me on the wall in my office hides a nanny cam. It's in the headlight. That was Tank's doing. He betrayed me and I couldn't let that go, so Tank, well, Tank is either dead or in a hospital bed. That leaves you. You're next in line. You're the obvious choice as the man to sit behind my desk, except for one thing.

  I've always had a feeling about you Brooder.

  I know you're a Fed. Maybe FBI, maybe DEA, don't know which, but I purposely elevated your status in the Kings because I've seen you as a safety net and I wanted to keep you close. Why? Don't worry, I'm getting to that.

  I gave you opportunities to nail me. I set you up to do it. You wouldn't have succeeded and you would've been hurt, but you never did. That told me you had bigger game than me in your sights. There was only one possible target that fit the bill. HH.

  You're reading this because you need to kill him.

  Yeah, I know you can't just snuff someone, but if you shoot him in the line of duty you'll be doing the world a favor. I know guys who would whack someone for a day's supply of smack. I know some of the meanest sons-of-bitches you ever want to meet, but there's no-one like HH. He's the devil incarnate. Ke
eping you around wasn't about me, but about getting him. If my time ran out and HH got to me, I knew you'd try to uncover him. Maybe he did get me, and maybe you're reading this because HH discovered my plan to bolt, but either way his demise is now in your hands. How's that for drama? That was Nancy's line, not mine. The only way to save ourselves was to leave our lives behind.

  So, Mr. DEA, or FBI, or whatever you are, here's what you need to know.

  HH operates out of a mansion in the hills above Sunset Blvd. You might already know that, but if you don't the address is 7655 View Vista Drive. The house is a glass mansion surrounded by tropical landscaping at the end of a cul-de-sac, and I'm pretty sure his lab is in a basement of the guest house behind it.

  The property is littered with cameras. Everywhere you go you're watched, and he only talks through a PA system. He has a torture room. I don't know how you get there, but it's a room of horrors. I wish I could give you a description of him, but I've never met him, no-one has, and I have no idea what HH stand for.

  He has parties, lots of them, with drugs everywhere. He also deals in girls, buying and selling them. If you crash one of those parties you'll hit gold, but his surveillance will let him know you're coming, and by the time you get inside you probably won't find a thing.

  I've never ratted on anyone in my life, but I want HH dead, or at the very least behind bars. They'll know how to deal with him inside.

  Jason Dean, the actor, is the only person I know who's directly connected to HH. He was the one who got me involved, and who I contacted if I needed to reach out to HH. Watch out for him. I've seen him turn nasty on a dime. I think he might be a psycho. I mean, a real psycho.

  One last thing. Brooder, unless you arrive at the mansion with a team of agents to bust down the door, don't go. There is nothing that can prepare you for what HH will put in front of you. Find another way. WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T GO THERE.

  Whether you're a cop, or even if you're not and I've got all this wrong, you're a cool cat, Brooder. I like you. I respect you, and I don't say that about many people. In another life we could have been brothers, though in a way, I feel like we are.

  Safe riding...oh, and Tank knows where the bodies are buried.

  Kratos

  P.S. The key to a happy life? Find your Nancy.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Laying the letter flat on the table, Marco retrieved his phone, snapped a photograph, and sent it to Steve, Johnny and Kat, with a short message saying he'd call soon, then waving to the waitress to bring him a second cup of coffee, he read it through again, but slowly.

  It was astonishing. And what the hell did Tank know? What bodies?

  Kratos always had been secretive and cryptic, and it was clear he'd been several steps ahead of everyone. When he'd concluded Marco had been working undercover, Kratos hadn't panicked. He'd watched him and kept him close, and perhaps it was more than fear of HH that had made Kratos decide to get away. Perhaps he was worried that the feds were getting close to finding HH and blowing apart the operation. That would mean he and Nancy would go down too, but as Marco idly ate his pie and processed the new information, he realized Kratos had skillfully executed a complex operation, outwitting not just the authorities, but the formidable and diabolical HH as well. Were it not for the accident, he and Nancy would be on their way to a tropical paradise somewhere in the Caribbean. Kratos had been brilliant. Had he turned his talents in another direction, he could probably have achieved great things, and Marco felt an unexpected wave of sadness, then a sudden need to hear Kat's voice. Touching her name on his phone, it only rang only once before she answered.

  "My gosh, Marco, that letter is incredible. Where did you find it?"

  "I'm not sure how long I can talk. I'm in a coffee shop and there's no-one else here at the moment, but that could change."

  "Oh, right. Okay."

  "I found it where Kratos told me to look if he didn't come back, and obviously he knew he wasn't returning because he was hightailing it out of town. It was under his desk taped to an innocuous piece of string hidden behind a drawer. If anyone had seen it they wouldn't have given it a second look. Kratos was a genius. What a waste. I can't stop thinking about how different his life could have been."

  "Yeah, me too," Kat sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't feel bad about a creep like that, but I do."

  "It's weird," Marco muttered, "he was a criminal and a gangster, but in spite of all that there was some good in him. When I was looking through the books I discovered he donated regularly to several charities."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yep, and I don't just mean from the tavern, I mean personally."

  "Sounds like he was a complicated man, but regardless, he sure wants HH to be put out of business. Does all this information change what you're going to do?"

  "No, but it takes some of the guesswork out of it, and now I know for sure Jason is the way to get in touch with HH, just as you suspected, and I'm not going up to the mansion."

  "I'm really glad to hear that. What a relief. I've been so worried."

  "When I read his warning, it was as if he was reaching out from beyond the grave and demanding I not go there, and Kat, I felt a strange chill."

  "That is so scary, but not going up there it fits in with your plan."

  "It does. Kratos believed in fate. Strange how things are now falling into place. Sorry, Kat, some more customers have just come in. I'll call you again when I can but my day will be hectic. Do me a favor and let Steve know we've talked."

  "Yeah, sure."

  "And Kat, before I end this call I'm going to give you an instruction."

  "You just gave me butterflies."

  "It's not that kind of instruction."

  "I don't care, you still gave me butterflies. What is it?"

  "Take a taxi here tonight. I can't help feeling over-protective right now. I'll zip you back home in the morning."

  "I don't mind doing that, not a bit."

  He could hear her smile through the phone. In spite of all of her previous protests, she loved that he was watching out for her.

  "I'll see you later, Kat," he softly murmured. "Stay safe."

  "You too. Please, Marco, watch your back."

  "Always."

  Ending the call, Marco watched the three teenage boys who had sauntered into the coffee shop settle into a nearby booth. They were laughing and kidding around, and then he saw one of them pull out a pack of cigarettes. He grit his teeth, but only for a moment, before standing up and walking across to their booth. To their shock he sat down in the empty space next to the boy with the packet and took it from his hands.

  "Hey!" the boy said, feigning a confidence Marco knew he didn't feel.

  "You sure you wanna argue with me?" Marco asked, scowling at the scrawny teenager.

  Marco knew he looked rough and tough. He hadn't shaved, he was wearing his Kratos Kings sleeveless T-shirt, which meant his powerfully muscled arms were on full display, and he was twice the size of the three boys put together.

  "No, I just--uh..."

  "I'm gonna tell you a quick story, then I'll take off. All you've gotta do is sit there quietly and listen. Got it?"

  The three boys just stared at him, afraid to speak, and not knowing what to say even if they could.

  "A friend of mine was killed yesterday. He was riding his bike and he got hit by a semi-truck on the freeway. You might've heard about it."

  He saw their eyes widen in shock, and still full of questions and confusion. Who was this guy? Why was he sitting there, holding their cigarettes and talking to them?

  "These coffin nails you're so proud of smoking," he declared, holding them up, "you think they make you look cool and all grown up? They make you look stupid. All you're doing is stepping in front of a slow moving bus that'll kill you as sure as that truck killed my friend, but it won't be quick and painless, it'll be slow and grisly."

  Marco let his words hang in the air as he studied their faces. They were still scared, bu
t they were also captivated.

  "But that aside, you wanna get laid? Good luck. Kiss a girl smelling like cigarettes, she won't wanna kiss you again, and no amount of mints or breath spray will help. It's gross."

  "Uh, can I ask you something?" one of the boys said hesitantly.

  "Sure. Go ahead."

  "I'm not being rude or anything, but, uh, why are you telling us all this?"

  "My friend could have been a somebody. He could have had the nice house, the big car, all of it. He was smart, real smart, but somewhere along the way he made a bad choice and got messed up. Smoking is a bad choice. One bad choice leads to another. If I stop one of you from walking down the same road as my friend, it's almost as if his death will count for something. Does that make sense to you?"

  Two of the boys stared at the tabletop, and the other gazed out the window.

  "I asked you a question," Marco said gruffly. "Does what I said make sense? If it doesn't, tell me, and I'll explain it another way."

  Awkwardly they each mumbled their agreement, but the boy who had asked the question, was brave enough to look Marco in the eye.

  "You're right about the kissing thing. I can't stand kissing a girl who's been smoking. It's disgusting."

  "I'm right about all of it, and I'm going to take these and throw them away," he continued, stuffing the pack of cigarettes into his pocket. "If see any of you again, I'll say hi, I might even buy you some coffee and pie, but if you're smoking, I'll deliver this message again, and it won't be a friendly chat. Get my drift?"

  Intimidated, and in awe of the smooth-talking but rough-looking biker, the three teenagers, their faces flushed, slowly nodded their heads.

  "Spend your money on something sensible, like condoms," Marco said rising to his feet.

  "Hey, what's your name?" the brave one asked.

  "Marco."

  "Uh, thanks, Marco."

  "Thank me by thinking about what I said," he replied, then shooting them a half-smile, he headed to the cashier, paid the bill, and left.

 

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