by Alyssa Breck
Hunter squeezed her tighter. “I’m sorry he didn’t.”
“Me too.”
Chapter TWENTY-NINE
Hunter
The Knights slept in a hotel outside of El Paso. Sin, Ryker, and Butch were first in line in the SUV that Hunter had driven on the last run. That morning, he hung back in the van with Hem, Kol, and Maddox. The other guys were in another SUV behind them. There were ten of them in total. Everyone was on high alert. Kol and Maddox had AR-15 rifles across their laps. Hem had his 1911, and Hunter’s Glock was in the drink holder.
A handheld radio was stuck between Hem’s legs. It was too risky to use cell phones during a run. The pick up was business as usual. As they cruised into Odessa, Hunter thought maybe the ATF intel had been wrong. No one had tailed their convoy for the last four hours. They stopped at the same truck stop that Hem had gotten that hooker’s phone number. The men took turns using the bathroom inside the store.
The vehicles were filled up, and they got back on the highway.
“Maybe my informant was misinformed,” Hem said.
“It happens,” Hunter replied and took a drink of the soda he’d bought.
The next four hours were quiet, but the men were still on high alert. After another seventy miles, they’d be back in Dallas. Hunter stayed about five car lengths behind Ryker.
“What’s he doing?” Hem asked.
The SUV’s blinker was on and Ryker took the next exit. There was no gas station there. If they needed to stop, they should have radioed in.
“Call him,” Hunter said.
Hem keyed up the radio. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”
The only response was a high pitched squeal. Hem checked the top of the radio. “Did we switch the channel?”
“No.”
He looked at his phone. “My cell is dead. What the hell is going on?”
“My phone is working,” Kol said from the back. “Should I call?”
“Yeah. We’re close enough to home now. Try Ryker. Maddox, can you call the guys behind us and tell them to look alive?”
Hunter followed Ryker until the SUV pulled over on the side of the deserted road. Butch climbed out of the passenger side. In the rearview mirror, Hunter watched the third vehicle pull in behind the van.
Hem rolled his window down but kept his hand on his pistol.
It was June in Texas, and Butch wouldn’t take off that fucking beanie. Sweat beaded up on his forehead as he leaned into the window. “What the fuck is the emergency?”
“What are you talking about?” Hem asked. “We’re just following you guys.”
Butch pointed at the SUV. “Ryker got a text from you saying to pull off ASAP.”
Hem looked at Hunter. “My phone is dead.”
There was a pop a second before Butch’s head pitched forward and then back. Bone cracked, and blood sprayed over Hem’s face.
“Fuck.” Hem wiped his cheek and aimed his gun out the window.
Gunfire erupted from the tree line. Metallic pings of bullets ripping through the side of the van prompted Hunter to hit the gas at the same time Ryker took off. Smoke coiled up from the tires as the wheels spun, struggling to make a purchase on the dirt shoulder. Hem emptied his magazine and dropped it in his lap to reload.
“Everybody okay?” Hunter called toward the back as he sped onto the highway. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his heart rate skyrocketed. They would have to haul ass back to Dallas to ditch the bullet riddles vehicles. There was no time to grab Butch’s body and it was obvious he was beyond help. A piece of his skull was stuck to the console in the van.
“Check,” Kol answered.
“I guess that was our Russian invasion,” Maddox commented. He had moved to the back window of the van. “I didn’t see any vehicles. Did you?”
“No.” Hunter was focused on getting the fuck out of there. “If they wanted our dope, they did a shitty job. That didn’t feel Russian to me. Too sloppy.”
Hem dug through the glovebox and found a stack of napkins. He wiped his face off. “I think that was a warning.”
“Fuck them,” Kol said. “Blood’s been spilled now. They want a war, they’ll get one.”
Hunter grit his teeth. They’d had relative peace for years. The different factions navigated around each other and were careful not to step on each other’s toes. He called Paul to tell him shit had gone south, and they’d lost Butch. He’d also advised Paul to call Shorty because they had three vehicles that could be logged as evidence.
Shorty was an ex-mafia dude who ran a body shop about three miles from the clubhouse. When they needed to get rid of a car quick, Shorty was pretty reliable. He’d have the vehicles chopped up and parted out by morning.
In half an hour, they pulled into the back lot of Shorty’s. The man was as wide as he was tall. He closed the gate after them. His belly hung over his polyester dress pants.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What you fellas gotten yourselves into?” Shorty hit a button on the wall and the warehouse door slid closed. He ran his hand over the side of the van.
Paul stood by the door and shook his head. “Fucking Russians.”
“Those guys are assholes,” Shorty commented. “What are we doing with these rigs?”
“Chop ‘em,” Paul said.
Shorty walked around each vehicle twice. “I can give you about ten grand for all three.”
“That’s a little greedy, Shorty.” Paul scrubbed his hand over his face.
“I’m going to assume there’s a body or bodies attached to these bullet holes. I have to calculate risk here.”
“All right. Jesus.”
“I don’t have the cash tonight, but I’ll bring it around tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Paul touched Hunter’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Ryker and Maddox unloaded the drugs and money from the back of the first truck. The windows on the passenger side were shattered. It was practically a miracle that they hadn’t been pulled over.
The club had five SUVs and the van. Now they were down to two SUVs which were currently parked outside. They couldn’t exactly report the damage to an insurance company. This would be a big loss.
“So, they didn’t get our dope, but they still dealt us a significant blow. Anyone else hit besides Butch?”
“Nah. Hem is wearing Butch’s blood. They nailed him in the back of the head,” Hunter said. “We were under pretty heavy fire. I didn’t think it was wise to try and grab him. Sorry man.”
“I guess we can expect a visit from the cops on this one.”
“One good thing. Butch wasn’t wearing his cut.”
The men loaded into the two SUVs to head back to the clubhouse. It wouldn’t be the first time the cops came poking around after a member was killed. They’d lost three since Hunter had patched in but none in the last five years.
After nine hours on the road and a dead brother on the side of the road, fatigue quickly replaced the adrenaline rush. The ride back to the clubhouse was quiet.
Hem made a beeline for the shower. Nobody wanted to wear anyone else’s blood.
Aries sat at the bar, reading a paperback book. Probably one of Plato’s. The prospect had started a small library where the pinball machine used to be. He’d bought a six-foot bookshelf at a garage sale and painted it black. Three of the shelves held second-hand paperbacks and a few hardbound books.
“Where’s Holly?” Hunter asked.
“Was I supposed to watch her?” Aries responded.
“No, dickbag. Just wondering if she’s here.”
“She left with her mom’s a couple hours ago.”
Hunter was relieved she wasn’t there. The less he had to explain to her, the better. Holly probably wouldn’t be all that broken up about Butch considering he’d nearly raped her that first night at the Devil’s Lair.
The men assembled in the chapel.
“I think they cloned my phone,” Hem said. “It’s dead and right before Butch took the bullet, he
said Ryker got a text message from me. I didn’t send a message.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Paul said. “How did the Russians know about our drop? There has to be a rat either in the cartel or in our house.”
They regarded each other in silence. Maybe Butch had been a deliberate hit. Could he have been an informant? Hunter looked at Aries.
“No way, man. Don’t look at me like that.” Aries put his hands on the table. “This deal was set up before I got out.”
Hunter shook his head. “I wasn’t accusing you or anyone else. Any thoughts on Butch?”
Linc came to his defense. Butch had been his prospect. “He was clean.”
“I’m just saying. The Russians took him out and nobody else. We have to entertain the possibility that he told someone. He was scheduled on the run. And he was the one who said the text message came in from Hem. Did you see it, Ryker? Is it in your phone?”
“My phone is out there.” He pointed toward the chapel doors. No phones were allowed in church.
Hunter stuck his head out the door. “Plato, grab Ryker’s phone.”
“Which one is his?” he asked.
“The one with the reaper on the back.”
Plato looked over the phones on the pool table and picked one up. “Here, man.”
Hunter handed it to Ryker. He punched in his passcode. “Yeah, there’s a message here from Hem.”
“Let me see that,” Hem said. He tapped on the screen. “That’s not my number assigned to the name.”
“Shit,” Ryker said. “Was that asshole smart enough to do that?”
“He might have been smarter than we gave him credit for,” Hunter said. “Now whose number is that?”
Hem opened up his laptop and started typing. “It’s a burner. Disposable phone. It looks like Butch read that text and then added the number as a contact. That’s the only way this could have happened. Someone temporarily disabled my phone and they scrambled our radio signal. I’m sorry, Linc. This doesn’t look good for your boy.”
Paul straightened in his chair. “I guess they did us a favor by offing him then.”
“They must have threatened him,” Linc pleaded.
“That’s bullshit, man. If that was the case, he should have come to us.” Hunter shook his head. “Where’s his cut?”
“It’s with the duffel bags. I grabbed it,” Ryker said.
“We’ll burn it tomorrow.” Paul looked at Hem. “Can you set up something that will protect our radios and phones?”
“Not really. That’s satellite shit. I mean, I could easily fuck with their communications base if I had an in. Now that Butch is gone, they won’t know what channels we’re using so it’ll be harder but still not impossible.”
“Hunter, you and Hem go through everyone’s phones. Make sure they’re not compromised with bugs and shit.” Paul stood. “We have to get a handle on this now.”
“Sure thing, Pres.” Hunter dreaded the task. He was exhausted, but it needed to be done.
There was a protocol when a member breached the club’s trust even if that member was dead.
“The money from tonight’s haul will have to go to replace the van. We can manage without the SUVs for now, but we need a van.”
“I’ll get on that tomorrow,” Maddox said. “After we torch that bitch’s cut.”
As predicted, the cops showed up the next day, poking around about Butch. None of the Knights had much to say about it other than it was a bummer he’d been killed. Maddox waited a few hours after the heat was gone to pull a metal barrel out of the welding shop.
Hunter piled some pieces of wood and dropped the cut on top. He squirted lighter fluid over it. Clear plastic safety glasses shielded his eyes when he dropped a match in. Flames licked at the edges of the barrel. The leather curled in the heat and the patches incinerated first.
Maddox crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the fire. “We need better vetting on our prospects.”
“Some people pass all the tests and still turn, Mad. Don’t blame Linc for this.”
“He’s obviously got a questionable judgment. Fucking that skank whore and now his prospect was a rat.”
Hunter scratched his head. “We should close ranks. No new recruits for the time being.”
“I agree. Put that on the table, Hunt.”
“I will. What do you think about Plato and California?” The fumes from the fire burned Hunter’s nose.
“Plato is one of Paul’s. I don’t think we can question him. He’s Paul’s wife’s best friend’s nephew or something. Cali is cool. You know he grew up in the life. I think they’re both okay. But I thought Butch was okay. He made it through two years of prospecting and patched in for a year, and then he flipped.”
“I’m wondering what he was offered to betray the club.”
“Had to be money. The root of all evil.”
“Money and sex.”
Maddox laughed. “Amen. Speaking of, where’s Holly and her momma?”
“They stayed at Holly’s house last night. They’ll be back here tonight.”
“Is Kol fucking her mom?”
Hunter laughed. “I don’t know, man.”
“I heard some interesting sounds coming from her room the other night, and then Kol exited that same room the next morning.”
“I swear, those brothers get all the pussy.”
“Right?” Maddox chuckled. “I’ll get Plato to clear out this mess.” He pointed at the barrel. Butch’s cut was nothing more than a memory now.
They wouldn’t attend his funeral. He was dead to them both literally and figuratively. “We need to figure out who bought him. I hate to put Linc on the hot seat, but he knew Butch best.”
“I’ll call him. Maybe between Linc and Hem’s contact at the ATF, we’ll get some answers.”
Chapter THIRTY
Holly
The repair work done on her house was impeccable. There was no evidence of the damage the Irish Sons had done. The framed picture her father had broken with her head had been put out in the trash, and that wall was still empty.
Maybe she’d have Hunter take her shopping to buy a new picture. Something with a good memory attached. Maybe a garden scene or a copy of a Monet painting. Her mother had been on the phone with her lawyer for almost an hour when she came out of Holly’s office. Her face was pale.
“Holly.”
“What is it, Mom?”
“It seems your dad was hiding money from me.”
“What? Hiding it where?”
“Some offshore account.”
“How much?”
“Twelve million dollars while he was telling me we had around a million and a half. That asshole.”
“Did you say twelve million?”
“Yes. And according to our trust, half of that is yours. You just inherited about seven million dollars in cash and another four or five in assets. That’ll pay for a lot of school.”
Holly sat down hard on the couch. She knew her parents had money, but she had no idea her dad was stashing that kind of cash. “Where the hell did he get twelve million dollars?”
“I honestly don’t know. I also found out that he spent a healthy amount of money on hookers. Even had one put up in a condo in Tampa. It’s like I was married to a stranger.”
“You were, Mom. You were.”
Her mother was quiet on the ride back to the clubhouse. Then she blurted out, “I slept with your friend. The Indian. Native American, I mean.”
Holly wasn’t sure she heard her right. “Come again?”
“That’s what he said,” Brenda whispered.
“Mom!”
“I’m sorry.” Her laughter clearly indicated she was anything but sorry. “I don’t know what happened. He’s just funny and nice and … so very attractive.”
“Was it Kol or Hem?”
Her mom looked out the window as the Dallas skyline came into view. “Kol. I haven’t wanted sex in a long time. I’d pretty much resigned mys
elf that it would always be some drunken, ugly thing. I knew your father stepped out. I was fine with it because when he was with other women, he wasn’t bothering me.”
Holly didn’t want to think of her mom having sex with anyone, but she couldn’t blame her. Her father was probably the world’s worst lay. She reached over to squeeze her mom’s hand. “It’s fine mom. You deserve to have some fun. And Kol is hot as hell.”
“Let’s get ice cream sundaes,” Brenda said as she held tight onto Holly’s hand.
They drove through McDonald’s and got hot fudge sundaes and ate them in the car while Holly drove through the industrial area to the club. She leaned out her window and punched in the gate code.
She was still reeling from the revelation about the money. Holly parked her car in front of the clubhouse and walked arm-in-arm inside with her mother.
Hunter leaned over the bar talking to Hem in a hushed voice. Hunter smiled at her and stood up straight. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi.”
Her mother slid onto a barstool, and Hem offered her a drink.
Hunter kissed Holly’s cheek. “You smell nice.”
“Thanks.” Holly took his hand. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure.” He cupped her face with his hands. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
He nodded at Hem and led her toward his bedroom. Once the door was shut and she was seated on the edge of his bed, Hunter asked, “What’s up?”
Holly crossed her legs and looked up at him. The light gleamed off the silver rings on his fingers. “So, I’m looking at a considerable inheritance.”
“I figured as much.”
“Should I pay you and Hem?”
A puzzled expression crossed his face. “For what?”
She picked at the stitching on the comforter. They’d offered to kill her father, but she felt like she owed them something beyond her gratitude. “For killing him.”
“No. You didn’t hire us to do that. We did it because it was the best solution to the problem.”
