Trucker followed Data, not giving Cain the opportunity to deny him. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. “If that son of a bitch put a psycho in our territory, I’ll kill the motherfucker myself,” Trucker muttered as they entered Data’s office.
“You’ll do what I tell you to,” Cain snapped. “And right now, you’re here because I understand how you feel about Helen. You want some answers, and I’m willing to let you get them firsthand and even ask questions of your own. But you answer to me, Trucker. Me.”
They stared at each other for long moments, neither man backing down. There was a rage burning inside Trucker he’d never known was there when he thought that everything that had happened to Helen might have been caused by the meddling of that bastard El Diablo. He’d been friends with Cain for more years than he cared to think about. They’d served together. They worked together. Now they were members of Bones. Together. In all that time, Trucker had always willingly followed Cain, no matter where he led. This would be no exception. No matter how much he wanted to fuck someone up.
“You’re right,” Trucker said. “I’m sorry, Cain.”
“Good. I’m gonna need everyone on board with this. We’re a team.”
“Noted. I’m with you, brother.”
“I got El Diablo, Cain,” Data said.
“Speaker.”
A moment later El Diablo’s voice filled the room. Instead of his usual witty banter and vaguely condescending attitude, the man sounded completely serious.
“Cain. I’d apologize for the trouble I brought down on your club, but I had nowhere else to drive the man.”
“You know, there are numerous swamps in Florida where the gators would have taken care of that particular problem.”
“I’ve only been here a couple months. I’m still learning the finer points of where and how to hide a body in this place.”
“You know, you allowed that man to prey on any number of women on his journey here. You willingly put every pregnant woman in his path in danger.” Cain looked as angry as he sounded. “Hell, you could have gotten the local heat involved!”
“It’s all political, Cain. You know that. I couldn’t get rid of him here, but I knew you could.”
“Anything you think I owe you wasn’t worth this, you bastard. We nearly lost a woman and her child here. You sent a murderer straight to our doorstep!”
“I know, I know. You’re a hundred percent right.”
“What if it had been your own daughter --”
“Stop there, Cain.” El Diablo was forceful. “I’m fully aware of the ramifications of my actions. I gave you and your club my complete trust. I put my faith in your skills. That you were really as good as you said you were.”
“You could have reached out to us. You know, given us a bit of a heads-up.”
“I tried! My protégée said Data wouldn’t take her calls!” The man sounded more than a little frustrated and distressed.
“You had a straight line to Magenta, man. You could have gone through her.”
“Never!” El Diablo bit out the word with more vehemence than Trucker had heard the man use since they’d met months ago. “I never want this kind of thing to touch her! If that means I put innocents between danger and her, then I’m willing to risk it.”
“That’s the difference between us and you,” Cain said. “We’re not what anyone would call fine, law-abiding, upstanding citizens. But we’re not monsters. Ever think there’s a reason Magenta has kept her distance? Deep down, she knows you’re no good for her.”
“Leave my daughter out of this, Cain! I will not apologize for protecting her.”
“You mean protecting yourself. You don’t want her to see the real you because you know she’ll cut you out completely.”
There was a long pause. So long Trucker thought El Diablo might have hung up on them. “If you have nothing important to discuss, Cain, I’m going.” Now, the man sounded ice cold. “Perhaps, from now on, we should establish a direct line between our clubs. You know. In order to avoid situations such as this.”
“We have no reason for it. You’re the one who keeps coming to us.”
“I am,” he said without hesitation. “Perhaps that’s because I refuse to believe my daughter doesn’t want to give me a chance to be in her life. Maybe I just see something in you and your club I recognize in myself. Whatever my motives, rest assured you’d be better off having me as an uneasy ally than an outright enemy.”
“That sounds like a threat.” Cain leaned over, bracing his hands on the table as he hovered over the speakerphone.
“Take it as you will.” El Diablo ended the call.
“Well, that could have gone better,” Torpedo groused. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “So, El Diablo and Black Reign purposely drove that fucker this way.” He and Cain held gazes for a long time. “Cain, I know you don’t like it, but I don’t think the man truly mean any ill will. I think he was at a loss. If, as he alluded to before, there’s a possibility he’s being hunted by his own enemies, he’d want to be sure not to make a known kill before he’s established and has his territory protected. He may have loved ones he’s more worried about than bystanders.”
Cain gave him an annoyed look. “Whose side you on, anyway, pal?”
“You know I’m on yours.” Torpedo, ever the diplomat, was trying to smooth things over. They all knew El Diablo posed a significant threat, even from Florida, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it. “I’m just saying don’t judge him until we’ve had a chance to go over all the facts and evaluate them.”
Cain looked to Data. “Zora really try to contact you?”
Data shrugged. “Once I found out she was in league with El Diablo, I cut ties. I still monitor her, but I don’t share or talk with her.”
“Maybe you should rethink that situation. Keep your friends close…”
“Your enemies in your back pocket. Right.”
“Something like that.” Cain took a breath, looking at each man. “We’ve got Redding covered tight right now. Yes?”
“Shadow, Arkham, and Bohannon currently.” Torpedo’s answer was immediate. “Sword, Viper, and me will be relieving them in another eight hours.”
“Hold on.” That was Pops. Trucker turned to find the older man descending the stairs. Though Trucker knew him to be in his sixties, the man didn’t look it. He was fit, if completely gray-headed. Muscle roped his arms and chest, filling out the T-shirt he wore. Gray hair or not, he looked like a warrior. “You boys’re overthinking this.” His voice was rough, almost like a loud growl.
Cain cocked his head. “Really? How’s that?”
“Data. What’s the weather bringin’?” Pops locked gazes with Cain.
“There’s supposed to be storms moving in soon.” Data looked startled as he consulted his phone. “I’ll do some looking, but local forecasts are currently giving a shit-ton of snow coming down from the north. Near blizzard-like conditions, followed by intense cold. Subzero temps over several days after this storm. Arctic blast, they’re calling it. Cold’s supposed to last at least a week before letting up. Even then, it all depends on the strength of the next front. Or some shit.” He looked up at Cain. “Ain’t no fuckin’ meteorologist, bro.”
Pause.
“Maybe we won’t have to kill him outright.” Cain and Pops never looked away from each other as Cain spoke. After about half a minute, Cain’s face transformed into an evil grin.
Chapter Seven
The storm was on track to make its way through Somerset and the greater Lake Cumberland area in five days. In a way it was maddening to have to wait that long, but Bones also had only five days to gain the trust of Levi enough that he willingly came to the Boneyard. The Boneyard was the bar owned by the club and used as a neutral place to do business for bikers all over the state.
Fortunately, Bones had a prospect itching to make up for what he thought of as a failure on his part. Clutch had been tasked with making sure Bohannon’s woman, Luna, stayed put in the r
oom Bohannon had put her in. She hadn’t gotten past Clutch, but had exited through a window where two other prospects, Kickstand and Pig, had been the ones to let her escape go unnoticed. Kickstand had straightened up since then. He was still a fuck-up from time to time, but it wasn’t because he wasn’t trying make up for his mistakes. He was just young. Pig, on the other hand, had been falling back into his old pattern of dumbassedness when he picked on the wrong girl. He’d made the colossal mistake of ridiculing Suzie and really giving her a hard time. Stunner, one of their youngest patched members at twenty-five, took exception to his treatment of the eleven-year-old. Stunner had beaten Pig mercilessly, giving the young man a concussion and several facial fractures. He was healing nicely, but had straightened up comparatively. At least, for a while. As with all fuckturds, once the immediate threat had passed, they got cocky again. Trucker knew it was only a matter of time before Pig either got another beating or was banned from the club altogether. The only thing saving him currently was that he was related to Arkham. Arkham protected his family, and Bones had followed suit. But Cain would only allow so much. Pig’s time was about up.
Clutch was in his late twenties and had been hired at ExFil two years earlier. He’d been invited as a prospect for Bones about six months afterwards. Apparently the young man suffered from PTSD and had refused help. Cain, like always, took over and forced the issue. Not by making him join a therapy group or anything, but by bringing him to Bones. Not a single patched member didn’t understand what Clutch was going through. He’d really flourished since he’d joined Bones. As a result, he’d taken that incident as a personal failure. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, though, he’d been eager to atone, volunteering for extra duty and training hard every day. Once the guy learned how to ride a bike without riding the clutch so hard, he’d be golden.
Now, he was the one volunteering to establish a rapport with Levi Redding. They had no idea what Levi’s partner had disclosed about the club, but they were going on the assumption Redding knew about Bones. Naturally, this put Clutch in a vulnerable position, but that was the whole play. Clutch was a prospect in a local club and had no idea who Redding was. At least, that was how they wanted to play it. Clutch would be armed, but then he always was. They all were.
“You watch your six, brother,” Cain said as Clutch prepared to leave. “Arkham, Goose, and Dead Eye will have eyes on you, and Data will be following the GPS in your truck and your cell. Your phone will give him audio so keep it with you.”
“Should be no problem, especially if he buys the whole car-trouble thing. If not, the whole thing’s a bust.”
“He doesn’t buy it, we go to plan B.”
“Which is?” Clutch raised an eyebrow.
“Not for you to worry about.” Cain was letting Clutch play this part, and the young man was fully aware they intended to kill his mark, but Cain wouldn’t put an unpatched member unnecessarily in the know. Not because he didn’t trust him, but because he would always protect him.
“Understood.” The young man grinned as he finished packing. His cover story was a hunting trip where his truck broke down as he tried to head back in before the weather caught him. Clutch had secured permission with the landowner and would camp out on the property about half a mile from the house. They’d chosen a spot where he could easily monitor Redding while waiting in case the man checked. Clutch would ask Redding for a ride back to the Boneyard, then offer to buy the man a drink. If all went well, they’d get the bastard drunk, then make sure he got home. It was the man’s bad luck to be renting a house fairly close to the Boneyard. Maybe a quarter mile down the road. Cain had built the bar in a remote area on purpose, since the clientele routinely did questionable business at the bar.
“Rip it up, brother,” Cain said, bringing the younger man in for a hug and a solid clap to the back. “Anything seems amiss, you pull out.”
“The boys got my back,” Clutch said, grinning as he nodded at Arkham, Goose, and Dead Eye. “Ain’t no one I’d rather have watching over me.”
“We’ll be your guardian angels,” Arkham said, rolling his eyes as if it were all some big waste of time. Trucker knew better. So did everyone else. Arkham was a crazy son of a bitch, but he was deadly and protective of his brothers.
“Yeah, I know this one,” Clutch said. “Up in the air harping about everything.”
They shared a laugh, then Clutch hopped in an old Ford pick-up and left for his campsite.
“This gonna work?” Trucker asked Cain.
“If it doesn’t, we’ll be less subtle about the whole thing. Either way, Redding’s a dead man.”
“What about El Diablo?”
“One thing at a time, brother. One thing at a time.”
* * *
The night before the storm was to hit, everything was on track. The boys had kept close watch on Levi Redding for four days. Clutch had the RV parked in the perfect spot. Hidden from Redding, but giving them a great view of the little farmhouse he was renting. During that time, they noted him becoming restless. At one point, Clutch thought he might blow the joint, but Data pulled a few strings and got a flyover in the area by a friend who just happened to fly search and rescue. It took some doing, but they managed to talk them into making several rounds in the area Redding was hiding out. It was enough to drive the man back indoors after unpacking his newly acquired sedan. Also, Levi didn’t appear to be one to rough it. Though he had the generator, he had no firewood and didn’t use the stove at all, obviously confident that he wouldn’t run out of gas. Luck was on their side.
Bones kept close eyes on the weather reports out of Jackson. So far, the storm had taken a day longer to get to them, meaning Clutch was out in the woods a day longer than anticipated. The prospect had been prepared though. Just like the good Marine he’d been before leaving the service. Anticipating the storm would hit sometime around eight that evening, he’d begun packing up camp. He’d disabled more than one system in case Redding insisted on trying to work on the truck himself. Which was difficult, given they had no idea the man’s level of expertise with a vehicle. Trucker had talked Clutch through every step of the way over their secure connection. Thank God Data had the foresight to insist on the sat phones. There was no way to get a cell signal as far out as they were. Even the Boneyard had questionable service on the best of days.
Everything was going as planned, other than the small weather delay. Now, they all sat in the bar, the usual crowd creating a ruckus. Arkham reported things had gone smoothly at Redding’s house and he was, indeed, bringing Clutch to the Boneyard. The show was about to begin.
“We got everyone in place?” Torpedo leaned casually against the bar, nursing a beer. Though he appeared to drink, he’d taken an empty to chase his whisky with it. In fact, he’d take a shot, then spit the contents into the bottle. They all did. It kept up the illusion they were drinking when, in fact, they were all stone-cold sober. Most of them were old hat at this trick, but it was necessary to start well before their target got there, lest the move look out of place when it counted.
“Ready and waiting,” Data said. They all had earpieces and mics at their wrists to be able to communicate when necessary. Data held it all together back at the clubhouse in his command center, watching everything from a dozen different angles on a dozen different monitors. Trucker was right beside him. “Clutch and our boy should be there in five.”
“Turn up the music,” Torpedo said. “Get things rockin’.” He raised his voice to be heard over the individual conversations. “Drinks on the house, boys!”
They did. By the time Clutch got there with Redding the place was in full swing. Every biker in the bar was drinking and having a good time. They played pool and darts, getting more and more rambunctious by the minute.
That’s how things were when a smiling Clutch led Redding into the Boneyard. The man had dishwater-blond hair cut stylishly, but not flashy. He had light brown eyes and boyish good looks, but not so much he stood out in a crowd. Ave
rage height, he was a good head shorter than Clutch. In fact, there was nothing about the man that was memorable at all, if one wasn’t looking for him. His disguise was perfect for his needs.
“Hey, fellas!” Clutch waved from the door. “Make room at the bar for a couple more.” As expected, Redding tried to beg off, but not as hard as Trucker thought he would.
“I don’t want to get in the way,” Redding said. “This isn’t really my scene.”
“Nonsense!” Clutch clapped him on the back, deftly steering him to the bar where Pops had a beer and a shot of whisky waiting. “Everyone’s friendly at the Boneyard! Ain’t we, Pops?”
“Damn straight,” the older man said with a grin. “Where’d you find this young’un, Clutch?”
“Man helped me out of a tight spot. Damned truck broke down. Had to leave all my gear and the fuckin’ RV at the campsite. Ol’ Levi here was good enough to give me a ride back to civilization.”
“It was nothing,” Levi said, eyeing the beer. It was obvious he wanted it, but his instinct was telling him to leave it.
“Bud and Jack,” Clutch said to Pops.
“Isn’t that yours?” Redding pointed to the bottle and shot glass already on the bar.
“That? Naw.” Clutch waved him off. “That’s yours. Pops is rarely wrong about a man’s drink.”
“I do like Corona,” Levi said, still eyeing the bottle. “Maybe just one.”
“That’s the spirit!” Again, Clutch clapped him on the shoulder like the two men were best of friends. “Drink up! Gonna get cold out there tonight. You’ll need a little something to warm the insides!”
“Can’t argue with that.” Levi squeezed the lime into the bottle and stuffed it down the neck. Then he took a healthy swig and followed it with the whisky shot on the bar. “Whoo!” He chuckled. “That’s some stout stuff there!”
“It’s the good stuff,” Pops said proudly. “Woodford Reserve. You look like a man who likes the best.”
“Well, that’s damn sure close. I’ll sip it next time. Savor the flavor.”
Trucker (Bones MC 6) Page 7
