Ozzy (Wayward Kings MC Book 2)

by Zahra Girard

  When I’m sure she’s safe inside, I make a quick detour back to the no-questions motel where Preacher’s staying. I need a change of clothes, and we need to figure this situation out.

  Inside our room, I’m almost surprised to see Phil still tied to the chair. He’s now gagged and blindfolded. Preacher’s stretched out on the bed, drinking coffee, eating a crusty-looking muffin, and watching TV.

  True Blood is still on. But they’ve left the good episodes far behind. There’s faeries all over the damn screen doing all sorts of weird stuff.

  “Morning, Ozzy,” he says, not even taking his eyes off the TV.

  “Morning, brother. What’s up with Phil over there?”

  Still not looking away, Preacher shrugs.

  “He was talking during the show, so I gagged him. I wasn’t in any mood for that after keeping watch over that other lawyer guy for most of the night, not to mention dumping that body.”

  “But why the blindfold?”

  “Dunno. He just asked for it. He asked for earplugs, too. I made him some out of toilet paper,” he says. “Hey, you want to sit down and chill out for a bit?”

  “Yeah, nah, bro, I’m good. Besides, we got work to do, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. But we can get to it after this episode, right?”

  I look over at the screen. “How long have you been watching this?”

  He shrugs. “Time flies when you’re having fun. I think I slept a bit, kind of around the point where the gay cook goes to Mexico with his lover to become wizards or whatever. One second, they’re on their hero’s journey and the next, I’m waking up and the whole Vampire Illuminati plot is going on.”

  I nod. “That’s with the Law & Order SVU guy, right? He’s cool — I like him. Seems like a tough bloke, but fair, you know?”

  “Yeah. Christopher Meloni’s good in most of the stuff he’s in. A man’s man. So, why don’t you sit down, have some coffee, and we finish this episode?”

  I shake my head. “With all due respect to Christopher Meloni, we gotta go. People could die, and that’s more important than a vampire soap opera.”

  “It’s not a soap opera,” he says. “It’s a Southern Gothic horror-drama. And there’s tits and nudity in most every episode. Sookie is naked practically half the time. It’s great.”

  I nod and think about sitting down. He makes a good point. “I’m not disputing that tits are great. But a lot Sookie’s nudity is with that Bill character and he always says her name weird, like he’s an angry cat with a lot of phlegm in his throat. Plus, half the nudity is because that guy who turns into a dog likes to show his ass off. Come on, let’s go.”

  “Nah, I’m good here. It’s just twenty more minutes, Ozzy.”

  “Brother, I’m not fucking around. There’s too much on the line for us to spend time with vampires. Come on.”

  I grab Preacher by the arm and physically haul him out of bed and towards the door. Halfway out, he plants his feet and then jerks his other arm to point back towards Phil.

  “What are we going to do about our guest? We can’t just leave him like that while we’re gone.”

  “You’re right,” I say, and then head back into the room. I strip off Phil’s blindfold and earplugs. “We’ll be back later. Enjoy the TV and stay out of trouble until we get back, mate.”

  His eyes get wide, flicker towards the TV and then back to me, and he looks kind of angry. He tries to shout something, but, with the gag still in I can’t really make it out.

  He was probably just saying ‘Thank you’ anyways.

  “Alright, let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  We find a coffee shop across from the US Attorneys office and, from where we’re sitting, we have a clear view of the entrance. It’s pretty empty in the coffee shop and, as we’re dressed in our regular civilian clothes, we don’t attract too much attention. We order a round of coffee and some food, and settle in to try and figure this mess out while keeping watch over Maria.

  “The circumstances of the mission have obviously changed,” Preacher says. “We should call Gunney and see what he says.”

  I shake my head and take a sip of my flat white. “Have they, though? This David Ardoin guy still needs to die. That’s still our primary objective. I don’t think we need to call Gunney just to have him tell us that.”

  “Are you serious? He’s our president, he absolutely should know.”

  Part of me worries what Gunney might say — that killing David and protecting the club takes precedence over anything else, including keeping Maria safe. Sacrifice one to save the rest, or something else military-like, is something I can easily imagine him saying. And I know if that order comes down, refusing it could put me against the entire club.

  Preacher moves to reach into his pocket for his phone and I grab him by the wrist. “Mate, don’t.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m asking you, as a favor, to hold off on calling him. I’m in charge, and our mission is still the same. We’re still here to kill that guy before he talks. I don’t want Maria’s name swept up in this. She’s under enough pressure as it is.”

  “I’m supposed to hold off on telling our president this because you’re worried some chick is under too much pressure? Be honest with me, brother, you just want to get your dick wet, don’t you?”

  I tighten my grip on his hand until his knuckles pop.

  His face reddens and veins bulge in his forehead.

  “I’m not fucking around here, brother. Just give me some time to figure this out, ok?” I say. “I’m the enforcer, this is my mission, and I don’t want to have to pull rank on you, but I will if I have to. Let me figure this shit out before we go calling Gunney.”

  He sighs, and I can see his resistance waver, so I let go of his hand.

  “I’ll give you some time. I’m not trying to be heartless here, brother — Maria’s a friend of the club and anyone can see that last night was really hard on her — I just don’t think keeping everyone in the dark is the way to do this,” he says.

  “Just give me a few days, ok?”

  “Two. You get two days and then I’m calling Gunney. Any longer and it puts the club at risk because we don’t know how long before this guy talks.”

  “Fine.”

  I sigh and finish my flat white and then order an Irish coffee.

  Two days.

  Two days to figure out a way to save my club and plan an assassination while keeping Maria out of it.

  Can I convince her to get out of the way? And if not, do I have what it takes to pull the trigger? The survival of my club depends on those two questions.

  And if I can’t answer those questions, I know Preacher will.

  Chapter Nine

  Maria

  “You look like hell,” Ryan says as soon as he sees me come through the door of the small secure meeting room we’ve taken over in the building.

  It’s not my favorite way to be greeted in the morning, but I can’t fault him when I know it’s accurate.

  I stare at him a second, trying to process his words; Preacher must’ve gotten to whoever was after Ryan before they had to chance to try anything. Lucky him.

  “I sometimes have trouble when I travel. Adjusting to a new bed and all. But I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  “Well, let me know if you need anything. We’re both going to have to be on our game today, just like every other day with our client.”

  I nod and set my briefcase and laptop down on the table and take up a seat across from him. “I’ll be fine. But thanks for your concern.”

  Ryan shrugs and checks his watch — a Rolex, but an older one, and not nearly as expensive-looking as I’ve seen around the office in Chicago. “If you need to step out at any time to get some coffee or some fresh air, feel free. If our client continues to keep the same attitude he’s had for our last couple meetings, today will be another frustrating and short day.”

  I nod. Part of me is grateful
— the idea of a short day, a chance to rest, and of less time around David Ardoin — is appealing. But the rest of me knows that another short day means I’ll be spending longer here in Missoula. Which means more time around my creep of a client and more chances for whoever wants to kill me to do the job correctly.

  I trust Ozzy with my life, but the logical part of me knows that there might come something that he’s not able to protect me from. The longer I’m here, the more likely I am to die. This is the price I have to pay for my career.

  A screeching electronic buzzer and the heavy click of a lock coming undone cuts through the silence of our little meeting room. Neither of us bats an eye at the sound — we’ve both heard it before and I’m honestly too tired to react to much anyway.

  David enters in handcuffs, with two officers at his back. They shackle him to the chair, check the cuffs several times, and give Ryan and me a hasty nod ‘good morning’ before exiting the room.

  “Well, well, aren’t you just a beautiful sight this morning, Ms. Houlihan,” David says, winking at me with his good eye. “Even with bags under your eyes, you’re striking.”

  “Cut the shit, David,” Ryan says, interjecting and, thankfully, talking forcefully enough that David gets his creepy eyes off me. “Have you thought any more about the US Attorney’s offer?”

  “I have,” he says, languidly drawing out the words in his southern drawl. “I thought about it earlier, while I was taking my morning shit, and it had me wishing I had that offer on paper with me, so I could flush it down where it belongs. Like I’ve said to you before: I have a lot of valuable dirt to give. I can hand him more than a couple high-value individuals and organization on a silver platter and I am ready to cooperate. But not if I’m going to serve any jail time.”

  About halfway through David’s little tirade, his eyes settle back on me. They don’t move, and they don’t blink. Everything about him: his stubbornness, his entitlement, his blatant perversity, pisses me the hell off and sickens me to my soul.

  “How many enemies do you have, Mr. Ardoin?” I snap.

  “How long is a piece of string, sweetheart?” he says.

  “Cut the bullshit. You know you’re lucky as hell to even get an offer like what they’re putting out there. I mean, seriously, fucking manslaughter? Five to ten years at most? This isn’t a time to go waving your dick around. Take what you can get.”

  “You might think differently if you knew just what I had to wave. Course, I’d be more than happy to show you. Especially if you get on your knees and ask me nicely. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

  I stand up, my chair screeching across the concrete floor. “Is this just a game to you? Do you know how many people’s lives you’re putting at risk? Do you think that the people you used to work with won’t try and kill you? Your time is running short, you fucking nitwit. They’re going to kill you.”

  “Oh bless your heart, are you concerned about my safety?” he says, grinning.

  “What are you saying, Maria?” Ryan says, cutting in.

  I pause, looking away from David’s disgusting face.

  “I’m saying, as I’m sure you’ve informed Mr. Ardoin on multiple occasions, that the longer he delays, the greater risk he runs. Either the risk of his former associates deciding to eliminate him as a liability, or of the US Attorney deciding to withdraw the deal and prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law because they’re tired of our client’s masturbatory self-aggrandizement.”

  Ryan looks down at his files for a moment, considering, then back to me. “Outside. Now.”

  With that, he gets up, and heads to the door.

  I follow him, doing my best to keep as far from David as I can. Out in the hallway, after a nod to the guard to tell him to go take a hike, Ryan leans in to whisper, “what the hell is going on?”

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  “I mean, what the hell are you doing in there? Did something happen?”

  “I’m fine. I apologize for my temper and lack of composure. It was a slip-up that won’t happen again.”

  He laughs. “Lack of composure? Hell, we both know that bastard deserves whatever reaming he gets. But that’s not the point. It’s our job to represent him as professionals. That’s what he’s paying us to do. If you have a problem with that, fine, you can leave. I’m sure Mark can send someone else out here to assist me.”

  Ryan’s words hit me like a slap in the face.

  I don’t even want to entertain the thought of just how my boss would react to me giving up on the job. He’d have every justification to put my advancement on hold, or even fire me.

  “I can handle this. There’ll be no more issues,” I say.

  He pats me gently on the shoulder and it takes everything I have not to flinch at his touch. After last night, the only man I’m even remotely comfortable with touching me right now is Ozzy.

  “Mark highly recommended you, and he almost never says complimentary things about anyone. I understand our client can be a son of a bitch, but I have your back. So keep a handle on your temper, all right?”

  “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

  “If he starts to rile you up, just remind yourself that this case can make your career. The last time Mark’s firm was looking for an additional partner, he must’ve called me half a dozen times for my input. Stick with it, prove yourself, and this will pay off.”

  I stand up straighter, and can practically feel the frustration seep out of me. I’d known Mark and Ryan were friends, but hadn’t realized just how connected they were.

  There’s a light at the end of this dark tunnel. I have to make this work.

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  He nods. “Now, let’s go back in there and see what useful information we can prise out of him, so we can keep the US Attorney interested and keep these negotiations alive. I’m not optimistic we’ll get the kind of deal Mr. Ardoin’s hoping for, but it’s our duty to try.”

  He opens the door for me.

  I do my best to steel myself for what I’m sure is going to be a long day.

  I need to get David Ardoin to talk.

  Because there’s no way in hell I’m giving up on this case, no matter who might stand in my way. Ozzy included.

  Chapter Ten

  Ozzy

  It’s hard not to go to her when she leaves the US Attorneys office. She looks pale, exhausted, and drawn. She’s clearly approaching the end of her rope and every part of me is urging me to go to her side. To comfort her. To do whatever I can to take her pain away.

  But I don’t. I can’t. A guy like me sprinting towards a government building would probably draw some unwanted attention and turn this already fucked-up scenario into even more of a mess.

  So, instead, I casually get up from my table, head outside, and give her a small wave. Just enough to let her know I’m here.

  She’s on the lookout for me, and replies with a subtle nod.

  Preacher’s not long in following me, stopping only to put down a handful of cash to cover our food and drinks.

  “I’m going to go keep an eye on that other lawyer and make sure no one offs him. Remember, you’ve got two days,” he says. “I’ll follow your call for now, brother.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I got it. And thanks, mate.”

  I’m grateful for the time I’ve got. Two days is a lot to ask for, but I’m confident that I can figure a way to end this situation without Maria getting hurt. It’s going to take some work, but making something out of nothing is what we Kiwis do — it’s baked into our history to improvise in tough spots and during leaner days in our history there wasn’t much we couldn’t fix with a little determination and some number 8 wire.

  I’m going to do the same here.

  “Take care, brother. If this goes sideways, there’s no way the club goes to jail easy. A lot of people could get hurt.”

  “Trust me. I’ve got this.”

  He nods and leaves without another word, but, by that point, I’m hardly
paying attention — my eyes are back on Maria and I can’t help but smile as she gets closer.

  “How are you holding up?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Hellish. You ready to go gun shopping? I could really use the release of blowing something up right now.”

  “Lead the way.”

  I follow behind her a step or two, which gives me the advantage of being able to keep my eyes on her for protective reasons, and it lets me have a great view of her ass. Even in her lawyer’s outfit — conservative black pants, suit jacket, and dress shirt — she’s a knock-out. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not here just to stare at her ass, I have to keep it safe, too.

  Thankfully, we don’t have far to walk. Montana’s a strange place, with a gun shop right next to an important government office. Eddie’s Armory.

  I put my hand on her shoulder and stop her before she heads inside.

  “Wait here,” I tell her, after taking a quick look around to make sure no one suspicious looking is coming up behind us. “I’m going to check it out first, ok?”

  “Seriously?” she says, giving me a funny look.

  “Yes, seriously. I may not know much about being a bodyguard, seeing as I’ve never been one before and haven’t even watched that Kevin Costner movie, but I know it wouldn’t be a good idea to let you just walk into a gun shop of all places without me first taking a look.”

  That funny look turns into a suppressed smile. “Ok, go ahead.”

  I step inside.

  A tiny bell rings as I enter and I take a quick look around. It’s a typical small town gun shop. The room is filled with racks of guns divided up by type — shotguns, handguns, hunting rifles, and so on. More guns than anyone in their right mind could ever need, which is sort of the American way. There’s no one else inside except the guy behind the counter — Eddie, unless the sign’s lying — and he looks like a decent bloke, so I head back out and wave for Maria to come on in.