“Yeah? Well, I’m inclined to tell the cops and the FBI to suck my left nut, because there’s no way in hell Hatch would ever be making pipe bombs in his basement while trolling skinhead porn sites! And if any of you think he’s capable of that kind of shit, then you should be ashamed to call yourselves his brothers.”
“Okay, calm down before you rupture an ovary, Flea,” Crow said. Much needed laughter broke some of the tension in the room. “No one said we believed the cops, just that they have a strong case against our boy. Not only do we think he’s got nothing to do with this, we think we know who’s behind the frame job.”
“Who the fuck would frame Hatch?” I asked.
“Los Psychos,” Crow said.
“I thought they packed up and left town after everything that went down with the Burning Saints,” Hawk said.
“They did, but they’re pissed at the Dogs for helping the Saints run them out, and it looks like they’ve hired some heavy hitters to put the hurt on Hatch.”
A few months ago, our club had rekindled an old relationship with a rival club in town called the Burning Saints. Minus, their newly patched-in president needed some help with a rival club from Mexico, as well as some guidance in cleaning up their club internally. We were more than happy to help them out, in exchange for some future services rendered; whenever called upon, of course. Apparently, our help didn’t go unnoticed by Los Psychos, and although they left town, they weren’t gone for good or done with the Burning Saints or the Dogs of Fire. To make matters worse, Hatch’s sister is Minus’s old lady, which is likely why he was their target.
“Los Psychos is sending us a message,” I said.
“Clearly, now we need to figure out how to respond,” Crow replied.
“Without making Hatch’s situation with the local cops, the FBI, or Homeland Security any worse,” Jaxon added.
“Any thoughts?” I asked, flippantly.
“I think we might need to call in that favor from the Burning Saints sooner than we’d thought,” Crow said.
Grace
DAD LEFT THE second I got home, and I arrived to find Grams sleeping, perfectly happy and content for the moment, at least. As soon as she awakened, I was going to need to make her get up and move, which she hated to do, but important all the same.
With each passing hour, my stress level ramped up exponentially. I hadn’t heard anything from Flea since I left work, and my brother was also MIA, not surprisingly, but I thought maybe he’d have at least tried to reach out.
Grams and I managed to have a semi-stress-free dinner, but by ten, she was snoring in the recliner and I was pacing the house, doing my frantic clean as I went. If Flea didn’t call me soon, this house will have been scrubbed twice-over by the time I fall over from exhaustion.
At almost eleven, my phone buzzed in my pocket and I paused my dusting to check the screen.
Flea: I’m here. Don’t want to wake your Grams.
I rushed to the door, peeking out the peephole first, and then pulling it open and falling against him. “Hi.”
“Hey, baby.”
“Is Hatch out?”
“No. He won’t be for a while.”
“Why not? Can’t he get bail or something?” I asked as he walked inside, locking the door behind us.
“He’s being held on the Patriot Act.”
“Oh my God, he’s not!”
“Yeah. From what Booker’s been able to determine by somewhat illegal means, is that someone matching Hatch’s description, and carrying credit cards in his name, has been buying up supplies to make a dirty bomb. Actually, a lot of dirty bombs.”
I gasped. “He would never.”
“I know, honey, but the authorities don’t know that. It’s gonna take a little time to sort it out. Right now, Mack can’t see him, so we’re looking at alternate ways to get someone in to talk to him.”
“Maisie must be freaking out… Hatch must be freaking out.”
“Hatch can take care of himself, and Maisie’s got support, but I know she’d love to see you when you get a break.”
I dropped my face to his chest and wrapped my arms around him. “What the hell is going on, Flea? Why would someone be doing this to him?”
“Honey, he’s the Sergeant at Arms for a long-standing MC, he’s not a choir boy.”
“But he’s a good man… the best. He’s like Dalton.”
“Dalton Moore?”
Dalton Moore was FBI and close friends with Jaxon.
I shook my head. “James Dalton.”
“From Road House?”
“Yes. He’s nice. The nicest person on the planet…”
“Until it’s time not to be.”
I nodded. “So, it’s rare that he’s not nice. No one would have anything on him. Would they?”
“I can’t imagine what. But we’re figuring it out.”
I sighed. “I don’t know if I feel better or worse with that statement.”
“Gracie?” Grams called.
“I should go,” he said.
“Do not move,” I ordered, and headed for the family room.
Grams was trying to push herself up from the recliner.
“Don’t do that, Grams. I can help.”
“I have to pee.”
“Okay. Flea’s here, let me just ask him to go.”
“He doesn’t have to go, sweetpea. Just help me do my thing and then I’ll fall right back to sleep, while you two visit.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “He can even stay the night if you want.”
“You barely know him. Are you sure?”
“Honey pie, your dad did a full background check on him,” she confirmed. “If he’s comfortable, I’m comfortable.”
“Okay.” I helped her out of her chair and walked her to the bathroom off the family room. She was moving remarkably well, considering her full leg cast. But, that was Grams. Nothing kept her down.
I left her in the bathroom and went to Flea. “Grams said you can stay if you want to.”
“Is she sure?”
“Yes,” I hissed.
“Whoa, what was that?”
“Not you,” I rushed to say. “She confirmed my dad did a full background probe on you. Since he’s happy, she’s happy.”
“You knew that already, right?”
“No, I assumed, but hoped he hadn’t crossed that line.”
Flea chuckled. “Why are you surprised he’d check me out?”
“Because it’s none of his business.”
“Grace, if you were my daughter, even if we weren’t speakin’, I’d have Booker look into anyone you were fuckin’.”
“He doesn’t know we’re ‘fuckin’.’”
He raised an eyebrow. “Baby, he knows.”
“Gross.” I wrinkled my nose. “No. He does not.”
“Okay, Grace,” he said. “Keep your illusion.”
“Oh, I will.” I patted his chest. “Go hang in the family room and I’ll get Grams settled.”
I didn’t wait for him to agree or disagree, walking down the hall to retrieve my grandmother. Grams tried to finagle her way back to her own bed, but until she could get up and move around freely on her own, the recliner would be her spot.
“This is bullshit,” she grumbled.
“I know, Grams,” I said. “It won’t be forever. Are you in pain? You’re due for more pain meds.”
“Can we wait a bit?”
“Of course. But don’t be a hero, okay?”
“I won’t, sweetpea.”
I covered her with a blanket and within minutes, she was snoring. Flea patted the sofa cushion next to him and I plopped my butt in the seat and leaned against him. “You’ve been glued to your phone. Does that mean there are updates?”
He shook his head. “No, unfortunately.”
I shifted to face him and settled my palm on his chest. “Just how bad is this?”
“It’s bad.” He s
ighed. “Your dad’s workin’ it.”
“I’m sorry?” I sat up on my knees. “You did not just say my father is ‘working on it.’ What the hell is he working on exactly?”
He took my hand and kissed the palm. “Remember I’m the messenger, okay?”
I frowned. “Spill.”
“Your dad’s the only one who can get in to see Hatch, so he’s workin’ that angle.”
“What do you mean, he’s the only one? Hatch is entitled to a lawyer, right?”
Flea shook his head. “Patriot Act, Grace. They can hold him without a lawyer if they believe he’s a terrorist.”
“Right.” I chewed on my lower lip trying to think of something helpful. The God’s honest truth was, though, that this was a shit-show and there was nothing I could do.
“Your dad’s tryin’, honey.”
I sighed. “I feel like a shrew.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Because you’ve hated him for so long and not hating him makes you feel vulnerable and weak?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t talk to me like you know me.”
He squeezed my hand. “It’s okay to forgive him and move on, honey. It doesn’t mean you have to let him back in.”
“The total cluster fuck of it is, though, is that I miss my dad.” I bit back tears. “I have never said that out loud.”
He smiled gently and pulled me onto his lap. I settled my head on his shoulder and he stroked my hair. “It’s also okay for you to say that out loud.”
“I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He kissed my temple. “Don’t beat yourself up while you’re figurin’ it out, though, okay?”
“I believe I asked you not to talk to me like you know me.”
He chuckled, lifting my chin and kissing me gently. “I got you, baby. You know that, right?”
I nodded, snuggling closer. “Yeah. You kind of prove it every day.”
“I take my job seriously, so if you feel I’m slippin’, you let me know.”
I smiled against his neck. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Flea shifted, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Shit, baby, I gotta go.”
I slid off his lap. “Is there news?”
He rose to his feet. “Not sure yet. Gotta get back to it.”
Leaning down, he kissed me quickly, then he was gone. I locked the house up again and joined my sleeping grandmother back in the family room. She was still resting comfortably, so I found an old movie and hunkered down for a long night.
I fell asleep on the sofa and didn’t wake up again until Grams woke me at almost four in the morning. I checked my phone and saw no text from Flea, so I figured they were deep in the middle of something. I just hoped it was something that involved answers.
* * *
Flea
I raced to Hatch and Maisie’s home, finding several unfamiliar Harleys parked along the street. Leaving my bike down the street, I made a run for the front door and banged on it. Poppy pulled it open and grabbed my arm. “It’s getting heated.”
“What’s getting heated?” I demanded, walking inside.
“Mum’s yelling at Minus,” she explained. “His club doesn’t know what to do.”
“Where’s Sparky?”
“Making sure no one shoots Mum.”
“Fuck,” I snapped, and we headed downstairs.
“You sodding piece of shit,” Maisie yelled. “This… all of this… is because of you!”
“Mais―”
“Shut your bloody mouth,” she snapped. “I don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit.”
I had never heard Maisie this pissed off. I’d actually never heard her mad, period. She was as even-keeled as they came and kept Hatch calm.
I stepped into the room and my hand automatically went to my holster. To say it was tense was an understatement. Sparky gave me a chin lift, but didn’t move from Maisie’s side, his arms crossed, his stance protective.
Cricket, Hatch’s sister (and Minus’s woman), also stood beside Maisie, which I found interesting, but not surprising. Cricket and Maisie were tight.
“I’m thinkin’ there are too many people in this room for a simple discussion,” I said, and all eyes turned to me.
Minus nodded to his Sergeant, Clutch, who ushered the rest of the men out of the house. This left six.
“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Hawk growled as he stalked into the room.
Correction: nine.
Ace and Maverick walked in behind him. Hawk and Ace both had homes across the street, and Maverick lived with his woman, Lily, in the basement apartment in Hawk’s house.
“Do you have news?” Maisie asked Hawk
He shook his head. “Nothing you don’t already know.”
“Goddammit!” she snapped, then focused her evil stare back on Minus. “You need to fix this. Immediately.”
“Maisie, I’m workin’ on it,” Minus said.
“We all are,” I added.
“Does anyone know anything about how he is? Are they feeding him?”
Typical Maisie. She fed everyone. The intimate club get-togethers were usually at Hatch and Maisie’s, and she and the other club wives were always creating some new recipe whenever there was a Club thing.
“No one can get in,” I said. “But Ryan’s workin’ on that.”
“He is?”
“Yeah.”
“Does Grace know?” she asked.
Again, classic Maisie. She worried about everyone before herself, and she knew Grace enough to know this would be a concern.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s workin’ on it.”
“All of this on top of her grandma,” she mused sadly. “You take care of my girl, Flea.”
“I will, babe.” I turned to Minus. “There a reason you’re here? Outside of gettin’ grilled by Maisie?”
“I brought a couple guys to watch the house. In case we had issues.”
“In what fuckin’ universe did you think we couldn’t, and wouldn’t, take care of our own?” Hawk asked.
Minus raised his hands in surrender. “Never crossed my mind. Just wanna help.”
Hawk pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear. “Yo, Mack.”
The room stilled, and all heads turned toward Hawk.
“Yeah, man, that’s great.” He focused on Maisie. “I imagine she’ll be all over that. Okay, brother, I’ll fill her in. Yeah. Bye,” he said, and hung up. “Mack’s got a way to get you in.”
“What?” she squeaked. “When?”
“Tomorrow. Ryan’s organized it… but you’re goin’ in as a munitions expert. To interrogate Hatch.”
“Is he high?” She threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know anything about munitions.”
“You better get studying, Mummy,” Poppy said.
“Clutch can help,” Minus offered. “He actually is somewhat of an expert.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Maisie admitted.
“Can we come in now?” Payton asked, walking into the room and sliding into Hawk’s arms.
“Were you even gonna wait for me say ‘all clear’?” he challenged.
“No way in hell.”
Cassidy and Lily weren’t far behind, and Ace and Maverick folded their women in hugs.
“What did we miss?” Cassidy asked.
“Mack’s getting me in to see Hatch,” Maisie said.
“That’s great,” Cassidy said, but Maisie rolled her eyes. “It’s not great?”
“Get this…” Maisie shook her head. “Ryan, in all his infinite wisdom, is getting me in as a munitions expert to interrogate Hatch.”
Payton snorted. “Is he―”
“High?” Maisie interrupted. “Probably.”
“Maisie, I really think Clutch can help,” Cricket interjected.
“Fine!” she ground out. “
Have him come down.”
While Minus got Clutch back inside, I took a minute to text Grace. This was gonna take a while and I wanted to make sure I was available for whatever Maisie might need.
Maisie
“REMEMBER,” RYAN WARNED. “You’re an American munitions expert.”
“Bloody hell, Ryan, you didn’t tell me I had to put on an American accent as well,” I hissed. “How are we going to get one over on the FBI?”
“You won’t,” Ryan assured me. “But Jaxon’s doing you a favor by setting this up. He’s got the FBI guys distracted for a while, so the only ones you need to convince are a couple of local detectives.”
“Ryan,” I whispered. “They’re cops, not idiots.”
“Maisie, I’ve got it sorted. Just follow my lead.”
“If this doesn’t work, I will kill you,” I said. “But if it does, you have my life-long love and devotion.”
He chuckled. “I’ve always had your life-long love and devotion.”
“That might change if I don’t get my arms around my man today.”
“You can’t touch him, Maisie, or the jig’ll be up.”
I scowled up at him. “You better find a way for me to touch him, Ryan, or heads are gonna roll.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Ryan, you got your expert?”
I glanced down the hall to see a uniformed officer barreling toward us.
“Yeah, man,” Ryan said, and nodded toward me. “Linda Warren, this is Joe March.”
I stuck my hand out and said in my best American accent, “Nice to meet ya.”
I saw Ryan bite back a laugh and forced myself not to react.
“I’m gonna show Linda the file, then we’re gonna meet with Mr. Wallace,” Ryan said.
“You think you can figure out what he’s planning?” Joe asked.
“If he’s plannin’ anything, yeah,” I said. God, I wanted to smash this man’s face in, but I had to play the game.
“We got some solid evidence,” Joe said.
“All cirrrr-cum-stantial at this point.”
Ryan gave me a side-eye frown. I’m pretty sure I hung on my ‘r’ on circumstantial a bit too long, but, seriously, I was not American, and I didn’t play one on television, either. I had no clue what I was doing.
“Linda’s a real ‘innocent until proven guilty’ type,” Ryan said.
Road to Grace (Dogs of Fire Book 8) Page 12
