by Brook Wilder
Jaden smiled. “I read that somewhere once as well.”
“You still working on reading the Art of War?”
“Like you said. It’s a hard read. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands but I have to admit that most of what I’ve read didn’t hardly make any sense.”
“It’ll come to you. We’ll talk about it page by page when I get out.”
Before Jaden could respond a large hand landed gently on his shoulder.
Jaden sighed. “I have to go, sir. How about I bring you some turkey tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that’s allowed but thanks anyway. Why don’t you take the day off and spend it with your friends?”
“I’d rather come and see you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Then I’ll definitely see you the day after.”
“Sounds good.” With little more than a professional nod to Hammer, Ivan guided Jaden back over to the front desk. They signed out and Ivan strapped his gun back on under his jacket. Hammer sighed as he realized they were both wearing bullet proof vests. How has his life cycled down to this? Trusting the wrong people, that’s how.
He didn’t think he’d been particularly rough on Alina last night, all things considered. Then again he was mostly used to dealing with brothers and club whores. There was very little he could do to truly hurt their feelings. The pretty little schoolteacher was not nearly as impervious to his harsh words. He didn’t like Ivan moving in and controlling her that way. It really rubbed him wrong. The body guard was being too protective and controlling with Alina. Aw, hell. Hammer knew that man’s primary job responsibility was to be protective. However, this guy was protecting her like a man would protect a woman he cared about, not someone he was paid to guard. There was a goddamn difference and the man was crossing the line.
Hammer was taken back to his cell and paced back and forth as he worried about his son, his club and most of all about this body guard protecting Alina and Jaden. Even Hammer could see the similarities between Ivan and himself. They were both large, muscle bound males with classic apex alpha control needs. The difference was, Ivan had a decent job. Clearly he was a licensed private investigator with a carry and conceal permit. Hammer couldn’t pass a background check for a carry and conceal permit to save his life because of his criminal record. Hammer reluctantly admitted to himself that he was the kind of man that most women like Alina crossed the street to avoid. She hadn’t trusted him to find Jaden but now she trusted Ivan to tell her where to go and who to see. Well, fuck them both.
Flinging himself onto his bunk, Hammer laid back lost in thought. Alina had been honest and sweet with him and he’d trusted her. Hell, he’d even thought that he’d proven himself to her. Why did she have to betray him? For one brief moment he’d had it all. His club, his woman, and his son safe and sound under his watch. Then it all blew apart.
His door beeped open and Hammer immediately sat up, alert to the possibility of danger coming through the door. It was only one of the guards.
“Come on, convict. You have a visitor.”
“Pudgy guy with grey hair?” Hammer inquired.
“That’d be the one. Old man or lawyer?” The guard’s voice was flat and disinterested. It made Hammer wonder why he even asked the question if he didn’t care about the answer.
“Lawyer.”
The guard responded dryly. “He looks it.”
Hammer had to smile as the man cuffed him. Cavanaugh did look like a shifty lawyer.
Since conversations between them were confidential by law, they were shown to a private room and the video camera was disconnected.
“What news do you have for me?”
“Your little girlfriend paid me visit. Her security team muscled their way in and threw away my lunch.”
“Stop whining and get to the point. I am paying you by the hour.”
“They discovered some interesting information. We think that a certain Latino friend of yours continues to dance the flamingo, if you know what I mean.”
Hammer shook his head. “Look George, if you’re set on being a code talker, don’t give up your day job. What makes you think that?”
“Seems Miguel’s into all kinds of strange stuff.”
“Fuckin’ hell, George. You’re a wealth of information today. Do think it would be possible to say something that actually makes sense?”
“He’s freezing his sperm, storing up his own blood, and taking chemo therapy. We think he’s dying and looking for an heir he can trust. He’s hired guys to spy on his crew so we’re pretty sure he doesn’t trust any of them.”
“That all sounds pretty far-fetched. Is that why Alina hired the PI’s?”
“She also thinks someone is following her, though her security team say otherwise. That computer guy, Brian, noticed something interesting. The Grim Crew were routing their movements around your scheduled deliveries.”
“That’s a fuckin’ lie. They wouldn’t have the intel to do that.”
“Well, it looks like they do. He’s got some type of shipping containers with ‘perishable’ contents down at the dock.”
“Fuck. They’re bad for human trafficking. Get the cops down there right goddamn now and have them cut the locks off that container if you want to try to save some lives. No joke. Call them.”
Cavanaugh startled. “You mean human beings are in shipping containers down at our local dock? That’s some crazy shit that only happens crime shows.”
“Fuck, Cavanaugh. Trust me, the Grim Crew are real bastards.”
“God, they’ll be frozen solid.”
“Just get someone out there. We’d go but we’re all fuckin’ locked up here.”
“I’ll go straight to sheriff’s office when I leave here.”
“Jaden okay?”
“He’s about as charming as his old man. Said if I didn’t get my as sin gear soon he was going to get one of the Russians to rearrange my face. You know something? I don’t think the boy was even joking.”
“Which brings me to the part of the conversation that I came to hear. When are we getting a fuckin’ bail hearing?”
“Day after tomorrow. Most of the judges have taken off for the holidays. The few remaining are only hearing emergency domestic violence cases for restraining orders and stuff like that.”
“Fuckin’ fine. That it?”
Cavanaugh shook his head. “I would have thought that would be enough to make you happy.”
“I’m just in a shit mood right now, George. It’s got nothing to do with you. Sorry.”
“Well, there’s a good chance I can make this all go away. Since CPS never proved you were unfit and the police didn’t come up with much besides misdemeanor gun and weed charges, I can probably get you all off.”
“Yea, we hit it lucky this time. Thanks George. I know I’m an ass most of the time but we do appreciate what you do for us.”
The older man smiled. “You boys are the only thing that adds a little excitement to my dull life.”
“Get outta here. Stop by the sheriff’s office, then go spend time with that pretty wife of yours.”
“I guess she’ll have to do, since I can seem to get Elaina interested.”
Hammer shook his head in mock disgust. “Ain’t no dog like an old dog.”
“Hang tough, Hammer. This is almost over.”
Back in his bunk. Hammer couldn’t get the situation out of his mind. He kept ruminating over things, turning the situation over in his mind. He let an outsider into his life at a time when he should have had his shit locked up tight. Worse than that, he’d been foolish enough to fall for the pretty little bitch. That was totally on him. He’d fucked a lot of bitches in his time. There was no excuse for lowering his guard with an outsider that way.
She’d been weak and panicked when she should have stood fast. It’s the only explanation for her calling the authorities like that. Truth be told, she was weak. Hammer knew all about weakness. It was the one flaw he fought agai
nst constantly. There was no shame in nice middle class women being weak. They hadn’t had the wide berth of real life experiences a person needed to harden them. Really this whole mess was his fault for letting her in…for needing and expecting her be something she wasn’t.
He rolled out of his cot and banged on his door twice.
“What you need, convict?”
“Phone.”
The door creaked open. “Better make it fast. Phone time’s almost over.”
“Roger that.”
Hammer found he no longer harbored any resentment towards this particular guard. Unlike the others who were verbally appropriate and then treated him like shit this, this one was verbally inappropriate but treated him like a person. Hammer was much like that himself, so it bothered him not at all.
He listened as the phone rang. Instead of Alina answering, it was one of the Russians.
“Put Alina on the phone.”
“I’m sorry, sir. That won’t be possible.”
“You don’t own the pretty little bitch. Put her on the goddamn phone.”
“I must refuse. She’s asleep already and since she hasn’t gotten any substantive amount of sleep over the two days I’ve been with her, I’m electing not to wake her.”
“You makin’ all her decisions now or just the ones that relate to me. She ain’t yours.”
“You misunderstand. I have no interest in coming between the two of you. I am simply paid to render a service. If you were not so trapped in your own anger right now, you’d see how counterproductive you behavior towards her is right now. Since you lack clarity in that area, the responsibility falls to me to ensure her well-being.”
“Be warned, I’m probably going to fuck you up when I get outta here.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to try, sir. If you are successful, you will be one of three who have managed that feat in my lifetime. I will gladly suffer it for the sake of my current charges.”
“Jesus Christ, you actually believe all that shit.” Sighing, he spoke flatly. “I was callin’ to make nice with her.”
“Why don’t you call again tomorrow afternoon? It is my understanding that everyone is coming here for dinner. We will put you call on speaker phone and you can prepare words for all of them.”
“Sure, I’ll do that.”
“This is but a moment in time. You can’t experience it fully if you mind is somewhere else, sir.”
Hanging up, Hammer mumbled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean.”
“Sounds like he’s trying to tell you something, convict.”
Hammer looked over his shoulder. “I kind of figured that.”
“Well I don’t know what he’s trying to tell you but you are missing something very important because you’re not living in the moment.”
Walking into his cell, Hammer leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. “What the hell am I missing, turnkey.”
The other man smiled for the first time, clearly amused by being called a turnkey. “Earlier, your attorney said the bad guys knew your movements and you said there was no way they could know that. You should have been asking, out of the people who have access to that information, who is sharing?”
Hammer tilted his head, more interested than upset. “I thought meetings with counsel were supposed to be confidential.”
“They are. I just like to eaves drop. I heard you mention the name Miguel. Don’t know who that is but a Miguel Sandoval visited one of your guys.”
“Ain’t they gonna hear this conversation? All the cells are under surveillance.”
“I disconnected the sound. They can still see everything we do. Techs won’t be in until after the holidays to fix it. Brought you a motorcycle magazine. I think you’ll find page 108 pretty interesting, convict.” A quick flick of his wrist sent the magazine spinning through the air. It landed in Hammer’s lap with thud.
“Mind if I ask, why you are always calling me convict.”
“It’s a mark of respect. You are a convict. It means you’re fucking living life and taking risks. Can’t ever get arrested if you don’t take a goddamn chance every now and then. People got it all wrong. You guys are the ones out there doing important shit. Us guards? We’re fucking trapped in this shithole all day long every day. The way I see it, we’re the ones in imprisoned in our own self-imposed hell.”
“If I were you, I’d break outta this joint. You clearly weren’t cut out to be a turnkey. Kingsmen are always lookin’ for guys who wanna live life on their own terms. If what you’re saying is true, we got an opening for you.”
The guard jerked his chin. “Page 108, convict. Have a look.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, he opened the magazine to page 108. The guard had torn out a page from the sign in book. A yellow highlighter clearly marked that one Miguel Sandoval had signed in to visit Donald Jarkus, aka Booker. Hammer snapped the magazine shut and leaned back against the wall.
Booker had been with them for years. It was hard to believe that he could be feeding Miguel information. He could have been a recent recruit for Miguel or a plant from the start. It galled Hammer to realize that if it hadn’t been for one jailhouse guard, too nosey and thrill seeing for his own good, they’d never have known. Not until it was too late anyway.
Hammer’s blood ran cold as her realized the full implication of what he had learned. Booker stood there while Miguel’s men fired on his brothers…fired on Alina. He scanned back in him for some evidence of Booker shooting at the enemy at that first meeting. He remembered him being in the far back of the room. There was no telling who he was shooting at or if he was even shooting at all. He’d trusted a goddamn rat to cover their backs.
This also meant that Booker sat in church while everyone racked their brains for clues about his missing son, knowing the whole time that Miguel had picked him up the night before. He sat there and committed a lie of omission while Miguel’s men beat on his child. Though Jaden had come home with very little damage and no complaints, Hammer had known they hit him.
His head dropped and a dangerous glint jumped into his eyes. He leaned back on the bottom bunk, to keep his face from the camera as he plotted his next course of action. He’d make bail with the others tomorrow and then set a trap for his brother. He’d get out, pick up Jaden, and keep the boy at his side. He’d order the Russians to stay on Alina so he didn’t have to worry about that little piece of pretty.
Standing he banged on his door two times. His guard presented again with a somber look on his face. Hammer huffed out an exasperated breath. “I need you.”
“I’m right here, convict.”
“No. The day after tomorrow, when I make bail. I need you at my side. I want someone I can trust.”
“What’s that even look like?”
“No prospecting. You come in as a full patch. You get a monthly stipend, probably twice what you’re making here. You also get bonuses and cuts of any extra shit that comes our way. We ain’t boy scouts, so don’t think for a minute we are. Then again we we’re not into the skin trade, beatin’ on women, or indiscriminately killing people. We get our money from moving product, pure and simple.”
“Sounds almost nice.”
“Don’t be a smart ass. On the flip side, you get the privilege of getting shot at, cursed at, and looked down on by society for pretty much the rest of your natural life. People either hate or love us. There’s never any in between. It’s a shit deal but every now and then you also get to be hero. For instance, you and I are gonna rescue some bitches from that shipping container of Miguel’s down by the river. Trust me the cops don’t have enough for a search warrant.”
The other man’s expression brightened. “So it falls to the only guys who can get the job done? I always wanted to do something heroic. Fuck yes, count me in.”
“Thought you’d say that.”
“What about your rat. It would be a real shame if the guards were forced to deal with him. Shit happens in jail somet
imes, you know.”
“No, don’t arrange anything like that. He’s a fully patched member. We’ll deal with him when the time is right.”
“Roger that.”
“You ride?”
“Fuck yes, convict. I surely do.”
“Good. Meet me outside when I make bail the day after tomorrow.”
“You got it.”
“Spread the word to the other brothers, sans Booker…the one you know as Donald Jarkus.”
Nodding, the man headed off. All in all, this was a good score. Intel he could move on and a new guy he could probably trust. It had been a good day of living in the moment. He’d have to thank Ivan for that.
