Vick seemed like the sort of woman who’d be at home on a college campus—a graduate student or a young professor. How on earth did she get mixed up with mafia bottom feeders?
Dixon’s office also had a southwestern theme. The walls were stucco with the same tile floor found in the foyer. Instead of a desk, he worked at a rough-hewn table. Along the wall behind him were a selection of sleek black filing cabinets.
And seated behind it was El Jefe himself.
Dixon Wolf wore a white button-down shirt and a sedate gray suit with a matching tie. She put his age in the late forties, possibly early fifties. His thick, dark brown hair was bracketed by streaks of silver. Along the edges of his mouth and eyes were laugh lines. He had a layer of stubble on his cheeks and chin.
He was a handsome man, like Beauregard.
Yep, both of them were attractive, except for the whole murderer issue. It was probably some knee-jerk, fairy tale crap leftover from childhood, but Ash expected bad guys to be ugly.
She noted Wolf wore a wedding band on his ring finger. What kind of idiot married a mobster? Probably the same kind who’d spent most of the night fantasizing about screwing an outlaw biker…the one who’d abandoned her brother to die alone.
Her conscience could be a real bitch sometimes. So much for self-righteous indignation. Ash was in no position to be casting aspersions on anyone’s character.
Beauregard nodded to the other mobster. “Dixon is an associate and friend of mine.” And then he gestured to her and the two bikers. “This is Steele, Justice, and Ashton Calhoun.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Dixon Wolf said.
“You have friends?” There was an edge to Steele’s humor.
“If I were you, I’d do my level best to stay on my good side, or you’ll find out exactly how many friends I do have.”
A little stare-off ensued. The room was thick with testosterone and ego. Ash shot a solidarity, sister sort of glance at Vick, who groaned in shared frustration.
Vick stood next to Dixon and stroked a laptop on the desk in front of her as if it were a pet. Ash wondered if it was a nervous gesture.
A knock sounded on the door, and another man entered. He had thick dark hair and even darker eyes. The man wore another sedate suit—gray with a black tie. The pronounced five-o’clock shadow on the planes of his face kept him from looking like an ordinary businessman. Ash imagined CEOs appeared polished at all times.
“This here is one of our associates, Tennessee Ross,” Beauregard explained. “But everyone calls him Ten.”
Ten nodded but didn’t offer a verbal greeting.
While Wolf and Beauregard cultivated southern manners, Ten didn’t put on any respectable airs. He appeared cool, composed, and utterly indifferent to the tension.
Instinct, honed from hairy situations in the military, told Ash that he was the most dangerous man in the room, and considering the company she kept...it made an impression.
“Yeah,” Justice said, breaking the silence. “This is real nice.”
“Ms. Calhoun, I understand you’re currently employed by Cole Security, correct?” Wolf’s eyes gleamed in a gotcha sort of way.
Thrown, Ash could only stare.
“I told you he was good.” Beauregard wore an unholy smile.
“Not me, Vick.” Wolf patted her arm.
Vick cast sheepish eyes Ash’s way. “I’m only doin’ my job.”
Her boss cleared his throat. “And if I’m not mistaken, you got a contract with the DEA.”
Busted. Lying would only make the problem worse.
“How’d you hear about it?”
“It’s hard to keep secrets in the digital age,” Vick said. “Especially when it comes to government agencies.”
Wolf laced his hands together. “Answer the question.”
“Why go through this charade? You already know the answer.” Ash didn’t have a high bullshit tolerance.
Beauregard swaggered over to Wolf’s desk and turned to face them. “All of this means you’ve brought a fox into my henhouse.” He winked at her. “And I mean that in every way possible.”
Ash rolled her eyes.
“Fox in the henhouse,” Steele repeated, his eyes far away. He seemed to be thinking about something intently, but then he shook his head.
“Looks like the surprise is on you this time, Beauregard. For once,” Justice muttered.
Ash bet the club had been taken for a ride or two by the mobster.
“I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you.” Beauregard placed a hand at his side, where his holster bulged beneath the jacket of his suit.
“As I recall, we didn’t invite you to this here party. You got involved with the Raptor issue all on your own.” Steele had a hand ready to pull if necessary. “Actually, you caused the entire snafu.”
Justice copied the movement. She couldn’t see the rest of Wolf’s body behind the desk, but she bet he’d put his gun within easy reach too.
Oh, damn. Ash and Vick were the only ones who hadn’t made a threatening move. This was rapidly becoming a volatile situation, and she needed to step in before they added more red to the office color scheme.
“I’m a merc, not a fed.”
Hands up, Ash approached Beauregard, but Steele stepped into her path, putting his body between them like a human shield.
“I don’t give a damn about the mafia. You aren’t relevant to my assignment.”
She slipped by Steele, making no sudden movements in case anyone got trigger happy.
“You’ll understand if I doubt your sincerity, since I’ve already caught you in a lie.” Beauregard towered over her.
“Are you wearin’ a wire?” He scanned her body as if he had x-ray eyes and could somehow see it through her clothing.
“No, but you’re welcome to check.” Ash kept her arms at waist level.
“Don’t mind if I do. Strip.”
Steele bristled. “She ain’t takin’ off her clothes for you.”
“Somebody’s got a crush.”
Ash bit the inside of her cheek. This was about to go south in a big way. She didn’t want to be in the middle of a gunfight—especially for such a petty reason.
Gritting her teeth, Ash pulled her T-shirt over her head, leaving her in a plain black sports bra. She was glad she hadn’t worn anything more exotic.
Keeping his eyes trained on Steele, Beauregard spoke to her. “Don’t be shy, darlin’. Show us some skin.”
“Ash doesn’t—”
“Steele,” she said sharply. “It’s fine.”
Before the mobster could provoke him further, she slipped the bra over her head. Ash made no attempt to cover herself. She was far from shy, and she wouldn’t give Beauregard the satisfaction of acting all girly about her own nudity. It was only skin. Although she wished it were warmer in the room—her nipples had pebbled in response to the cold.
“Happy?” Ash asked Beauregard.
“Very.” He leisurely perused her chest as if he had all the time in the world. “I’ve always admired a pretty view.”
Steele didn’t look, though, and it irked her. He’d been all hot and heavy last night.
Ash tugged her clothing into place once more. “Now that we’ve established I’m not wearing a wire, we can get back to business. I arranged an immunity deal for the Four Horsemen. Any felonies discovered in this investigation won’t be reported to the DEA.”
“How nice for the biker boys,” Beauregard drawled. “But what about my organization?”
Ash gritted her teeth. “The DEA is interested in the Raptors, since they’re the ones who have direct contact with the Tres Erre. The cartel is the main target.”
“You sidestepped my question.”
Damn, he’d noticed.
She’d love to hand over the mafia, but the DEA wouldn’t be handling their case anyway. Most likely, it’d be slid over to the FBI, and the drug charges would be folded into a RICO case. The DEA and her bosses only cared about the cartel.
Ergo, it was her priority, as well.
“If you give me your fax number,” she told Dixon, “I’ll call my supervisors and procure a similar agreement with you.”
Beauregard and Wolf stared at one another. Oh, goody. More mental conversations.
No one moved or breathed, waiting to see if they’d go for it.
After what felt like forever, Beauregard nodded.
Wolf wrote a number down on a scratch piece of paper and handed it to her. Ash stepped outside to dial her supervisor and explain the situation. He agreed, a decision Ash wasn’t exactly happy about.
After the documents had been signed and faxed back, they got down to business.
“What did you find about the Raptors?” she prompted, taking a seat on one of the Queen Anne’s chairs in front of his desk. The sooner they got out of here, the better.
The three men behind her didn’t sit down, and she chafed at having Beauregard at her back. But Justice and Steele would handle it if he got a homicidal urge.
Huh. She trusted the bikers more than the mobsters.
Wolf pulled out a manila folder and flipped through it.
“I’ve been going over the club members’ financials.”
“And how’d you get access?”
He smiled slyly. “I have my ways.”
“And those would be?” Steele asked.
“I make it my business to know money. Over the past few days, Vick and I made some inquiries into their spending habits. Those boys are smarter than I gave them credit for. There ain’t been any activity on their bank accounts or credit cards for more than a week.” He smirked. “I froze ‘em anyway, though.”
“How?” Last time she checked, only the government could do something so high-handed. Unless he’d corrupted some politicians along the way, which wasn’t out of the question.
“Like I said, I have my ways.”
While she didn’t like using questionable means, not having ready access to their money would make it harder for the Raptors to remain in hiding. Hopefully, this would flush them out.
“But Vick found out something even more interestin’.”
“Actually, it wasn’t really me. I had a clue where to look. Hackers, like me, all travel in the same circles, you see. Fox approached me while I was on Tumblr.” Vick shrugged.
Ash had heard of the social media site before.
“You were blogging?”
“Yeah, about the Walking Dead. I have a thing for Steven Yeun. He plays Glenn on the show, and he’s so sexy, I mean—”
“Vick, on topic please,” Dixon said sharply.
She flinched. “Right, sorry. Fox told me I needed to check a particular PayPal purchase made by one of the Raptors named Woody.”
Woody? What a stupid alias. Knowing the Raptors, he’d probably meant it as a dick joke.
“But Woody slipped up.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense.” Beauregard folded his arms over his chest.
“They bought a credit card skimmin’ machine.”
Ash had several questions, but chief among them was the identity of the informant. It could be a trap.
“Who’s Fox, and do you trust this person?”
Vick bobbed her head. “I do. She’s famous in hacker circles. We chatted once or twice before.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “When you go digging on the Internet, you leave behind breadcrumbs, and someone really good, like Fox….”
“And she figured out you were diggin’ into the Raptor’s financials. But why would she help you? She doesn’t know us, so why would she even give a damn?” Steele frowned. “Hey…wait a second. Fox. I know this chick. She’s one of Coyote’s hacker buddies.”
“She is. And hackers help each other out.” Vick smiled. “The Raptors have a bad reputation—internet porn, abusing women, you name it. Anyone who brings those jerks down is doing a good thing—and you get hacker street cred for joining the fight.”
“Even though you happen to work for the mafia?” Ash had to be suspicious in her line of work.
“Never mind that for a second. I wanna know what the fuck a skimmer is.” Justice curled his lip. “Sounds like a video game.”
“It collects credit card data.” Vick turned her computer around so she could show them examples of the tech involved.
Ash was stunned to see everything from fake card slots to false keyboards made to fit right on top of the real deal. Talk about taking thievery to the next level. People handed over their credit card information without evening knowing it.
Vick continued her explanation. “Criminals install them at ATMs and gas station pumps—there are even little handheld devices. Thieves who work as servers use them at restaurants when you hand your card over with the bill. From what I’ve put together, the Raptors bought a device to place inside the gas pump itself, so you never even see it from the outside.”
Beauregard whistled. “Guess they went upscale.”
“Yeah, but they couldn’t do it on their own, so they profit-shared with the thieves who made the skimmer.”
“You can buy these on the internet?” Ash was dumbstruck.
Vick nodded. “There are some sketchy areas on the net, and the thieves who build the skimmers take a hefty cut—seventy percent.”
“That’s why the Raptors took Coyote,” Justice said. “He could make a skimmer, no problem. Yo’s never met a piece of technology he couldn’t rip apart and rebuild.”
“Coyote must be alive then.” He collapsed in the chair beside her.
“I think so. They’d need him to service the machines,” Vick said. “It also explains how they’ve been livin’ off the grid. They have a big influx of dinero from their skimmers.”
“How are they able to get away with it without anyone bein’ the wiser?” Ash asked.
“Once in a blue moon they got caught, but the cops can’t get identifiable info off the skimmers. The thieves cover their tracks.” Vick turned her computer back around and typed on the keyboard. “And they take other countermeasures. They install skimmers on Friday nights and remove them before banks open on Monday mornings.”
“So they could empty people’s bank accounts over the weekend when the banks are closed.” Ash whistled. “By the time people figure it out, the bastards have moved on to another gas station or ATM.”
Steele sat up straighter. “How do they break into gas pumps or ATM machines?”
“Don’t need to,” Vick said. “There are only a few manufacturers, and if you buy replacement keys….”
“You can build yourself a key ring which will open any ATM or gas pump,” Dixon said, putting it all together. “They’ve got money, right there for the stealin’.”
“Great, we found out what they’re up to. How do we catch ‘em?” Steele clasped his hands together and rubbed.
“That’s where we run into a problem.” Vick licked her lips. “I don’t have the foggiest idea where they installed the skimmers. It could be ATM machines or gas pumps. Hell, they could’ve had Coyote make the handheld kind and gotten hired at restaurants for all I know.”
“Hold on…I know somethin’. Think, think…Lickety Split.” Steele snapped his fingers. “Daisy mentioned it the other day. The police found a skimmer on a gas pump in Canyon City, but they didn’t have any leads.”
“Raptor territory.” Justice clapped Steele’s shoulder. “They probably started close to home.”
“We should check other gas stations,” Beauregard said. “They’re outdoors, and the bikers got an excuse to be at a pump. We could stake them out and wait for a Raptor to lead us back to the rest of the group.”
Ash was onboard. “Makes sense to me. And as luck would have it, it’s Friday. I say we go on a big stakeout all over the county tonight.”
“I wish we had more time,” Vick said, typing again, her features pinched. “I could GPS tag the machines, and ya’ll could follow them right back to their hidey holes without them bein’ on to you.”
�
�We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.” Beauregard paced back and forth.
Steele pulled out his phone. “I’ll text Axel and let him know what’s goin’ on. We’ll have the Horsemen out in force tonight.”
“I’ll put my people on it too.” Beauregard turned to Vick. “Can you Google gas stations in the area so we can get a list going?”
“I’m on it.” Vick’s fingers flew over the keyboard.
As they made plans and divided up the stations, Ash sighed with relief.
Finally, they had a solid lead to go on and not another freaking goose chase.
It was time to nail these assholes.
***
“We should’ve split up.”
Steele glanced at his stakeout partner, Ash. “We’re safer in pairs.” Though Steele wasn’t convinced they’d even see a Raptor tonight.
Ash was in a horn-tossing mood and had been ever since they’d headed out in her Forrester to their assigned Lickety Split gas station in Bellville, a nearby town.
He’d had to go ten rounds with her on who was driving tonight. Steele had won, but it didn’t feel like much of a victory.
Axel had ordered everyone to fly under the radar, which meant no cuts and no bikes. Between personal vehicles, Axel’s loaner cars from Seventh Circle, and the club’s trucks, everyone had a vehicle to use.
The club had spent the day dividing up gas stations and making plans. Between the Horsemen and the mafia douchebags, they’d covered the whole county. They’d paired bikers together in case any shit went down. Voo had even instructed the hellions to fill thermoses with hot coffee as well as pack some sack lunches in case this thing stretched out long into the night.
Tonight they’d catch one of these bastards. They had to.
“I don’t need your protection.”
“Well, you got it anyhow.” He grinned, trying to charm her out of the foul mood. “And who says I don’t need your protection?”
She didn’t even acknowledge the comment—no laughter or smart remark.
He knew why she was so agitated. They didn’t have an elephant in the car with them—nope, they had a whole damn herd. Noisy bastards stomping all over the place, trumpeting.
The longer they held off talking about Abe, the worse it would get.
Wild Ride (Let it Ride Book 2) Page 26
