by Jessie Cooke
Dax turned his head so that their eyes no longer met and as he smoked his joint he said, “Then maybe you don’t know me any better than I do you. You’d be surprised at exactly what I can do…to those that betray me.” While he talked, she took in what was directly in front of her: wooden crates stacked up across a wooden floor and pushed up against steel walls. She was in some kind of warehouse and the only light was coming from above Dax’s head, but she couldn’t look up and see if it was a window or a door. She suddenly remembered the surveillance van. Micah was watching her today. But Micah was pissed off at her. Had he still even been there when they came to get her? If so, why didn’t he try and stop them?
“Dax…who told you about me?”
“Your boyfriend told me, Angel. I called him after I saw the text and the photo. He admitted everything.”
“My boyfriend? Micah?” He kept referring to Dan as her boyfriend, but he never mentioned Micah. If Dax knew all about her life, shouldn’t he know that she was living with Micah? She was so confused.
He didn’t answer her. Instead he brought up his right arm and suddenly she was staring at the barrel of his .44 Magnum. She closed her eyes again and said a silent prayer. She was about to die at the hands of the man she loved. The man that she’d risked everything for…even her life.
39
Four Months Earlier
Angel followed the SUV as closely as she could, without blowing her cover. They had Hawk in the back and they were driving fast. She’d been following them for almost an hour when they turned off the main road and onto a country road that was poorly paved; they began heading up into the hills. She stopped the car at the end of the road. She was afraid that she’d lose them, but there was no one else using the road so there was no way they wouldn’t see her on the straightaway. She sat with her heart hammering in her chest and waited until she saw the SUV disappear around a curve. She cautiously steered her car in the direction they’d gone, praying that they didn’t decide to turn around without warning, or that the hills wouldn’t suddenly open into another straightaway.
She drove slowly, catching glimpses of the dark SUV every so often as it climbed the hill and took the curves, almost too quickly. She found herself worrying that they’d wreck themselves, and then realized that after all she’d seen the past two days, that was the silliest thing she had to worry about. Angel followed the curves and climbed until suddenly she was at the end of the road and there was no sign of the SUV. Panic began to swell in her chest that maybe she’d passed them. Maybe they were behind her. She pulled the car as far off the road as she could and with the frightening knowledge that anyone who passed it would see it, she grabbed her bag with the binoculars and camera and stepped out of the car, tucking her weapon into the waist of her jeans as she did.
Angel stood at the edge of the dead-end road and searched the ground until she spotted the tracks. The dirt was dry and hard so they weren’t easy to spot, but they were definitely tire tracks, and the brush that had formerly stood along the sides of the trail was crushed from the apparent weight of a vehicle—the SUV Dax was in, she hoped. With a knot in her stomach she began to follow the tracks. The path was narrow and there were places where chunks of pine needles and cones were scattered across it in thick bunches, like they’d been knocked off by a vehicle as it came through. She was sure she was on the right track, even before she heard the voices.
She stopped and crouched behind a rock when the voices got louder. She slid the binoculars out of her bag and, lifting herself up slowly and carefully, she trained them in the direction the voices were coming from. Unfortunately, all she could see were more rocks and trees. Staying low on her hands and knees she crawled through the dirt, scraping her palms on the rocks and pine needles underneath her, until she reached another rocky outcropping that she could hide behind. This time when she rose with the binoculars she could see the back end of the SUV. It was standing open. She moved the binoculars to the right, and Clay and Handsome came into view. They were looking at something at their feet and she could hear Dax’s voice, but not what he was saying. She had to get closer. She knew that she was taking a huge risk, but she’d come too far to turn back now.
This time, practically slithering on her belly like a snake, she scooted forward along the trail, tasting the thick dust as it coated her tongue and the insides of her nasal passages. There was a large rock just behind the SUV and that’s where she stopped. This time instead of rising, she stayed on her belly and just let the binoculars point slightly out, around the rocks. Not only was her view perfect then, but she could hear Dax as he said:
“Who killed him?”
“I told you, I don’t know. Do you think I’m stupid enough to cut off his fucking head and leave him in my house wearing one of my kuttes?” Hawk was lying at his feet. His nose was crusted with dried blood, and his hands and feet were duct taped so that he couldn’t move. His voice sounded nasal, like he was having trouble breathing through his nose. Angel could also see blood on the back of his head, covering the hair there, and spots where it dripped down the back of his shirt.
“I don’t know how stupid you are,” Dax said. “You tell me. Did you order a hit on Max?”
“I had no fucking beef with Max. Last I heard he went out to California to find some chick who was pregnant with his kid.”
“Max had personal business out there to take care of. But we hadn’t gotten word that he was coming back to town.” The FBI had told Chris Matheson, though, who relayed to the team that Mad Max was deep into debt to a loan shark out of New Hampshire—so deeply that when he approached Dax and the rest of the club and asked for help, there was nothing they could do for him, except maybe fight another war on that front. The loan shark was deeply connected to one of the major crime families in New York, however, and it would have been a war the Skulls could not have won. Rather than stay and bring that down on his club, Max had set off to parts unknown. The word that the club spread was the story that he went to California to look for a woman. That was false. As far as Angel knew, no one could figure out why he’d come back. The NYPD checked out the men in New York, but weren’t surprised when there was no evidence that any of them were connected to Max’s murder.
“I didn’t fucking know he was back, Dax, I swear. I wish I could help you, trust me. I’ve lived through a hell of a lot. I’d rather not die on this dirty fucking mountain.”
“Where are the coins?” Dax said, surprising Angel.
“What coins?”
“Fucking really? You just said you wanted to help. So, help me, Hawk. Where the fuck are the rest of the coins? There are at least a million dollars’ worth missing. You knew that Miller was moving them that day. You were pissed that Dan wasn’t using you to do it…”
Hawk had the balls to laugh and say, “From what I hear, he’s regretting that.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t have them. You think if I had a million fucking dollars‘ worth of coins that I’d be hiding out in roach motels in Quebec? Hell, I’d be lying on some fucking beach somewhere.”
“What were you looking for at the ranch?” Hawk didn’t answer him. Dax kicked him and after a loud “Oomph!” and then a coughing fit he said in a strained voice:
“The coins, okay? I was looking for the fucking coins. Dan said you had them.”
Angel could tell by the look on Dax’s face that he put it together almost at the same time she did. “Dan” set them both up. He was trying to instigate a war between them. Angel wished that she knew who this “Dan” was, and then maybe she’d know why he wanted a war between the two clubs.
“Dan hired me to kill you,” Dax said in a voice that gave away his thoughts.
“Fucker,” Hawk spat out in a voice that was still strained with pain. “That fucker set us all up. He set up Miller to get caught, and he didn’t give a shit if you and your boys were killed in the crossfire. He put aside that million dollars in coins before it all went down, knowing the polic
e would assume that you took them and knowing you’d assume I did. He convinced me you had them. He’s the one that sent me out to the ranch to get them. He said you were off somewhere fucking your old lady and it would be easy. He was right. It was easy. But I didn’t find no fucking coins.”
Dax kicked him again and Hawk cried out. “That’s for my man you killed at the front gates. He had a family, you son of a bitch!”
“He pulled a gun on one of my guys. My guy shot him in self-defense.”
Another kick to the ribs. Another loud cry. If Dax didn’t end up shooting him, Hawk might die from one of his ribs, now broken, puncturing his lung and ripping it open. “There would be no need to defend yourselves if you hadn’t been there in the fucking first place.”
Hawk was coughing and spewing blood and saliva out into the dirt. It took longer for him to compose himself this time. In a pained voice, he said, “Man, I’m as pissed about this shit with Dan as you are. You know now that he’s the one that killed Max, right? Hell, that fucker will work for anyone. I’ll bet Dan was working for the Rossi family, and he killed Max and put him in my house and my kutte to make the cops and you think it was me. He set this all up. He wants us at fucking war. Hell, he’s the one that tipped us off about the Mexicans guarding your stuff the night of the fire. It’s always been him.”
“And you always went right along with him. He knew you were just that weak-minded.”
“Oh, and you didn’t agree to walk into a setup and a murder? Instead of killing each other and giving him what he wants, we should be working together to take him down.”
Angel could tell by the look on Dax’s face that the wheels in his head were turning. He took out his phone and made a call. He turned toward her when he did, and she slipped quietly down behind the rock even though she was sure he couldn’t see her through the deep brush that rose between them. “Fuck!”
“He changed his number again?” Hawk said, “Man, you know that’s his M.O. When he wants to get in touch, he calls you, not the other way around.”
“Where is he, Hawk? Where can I find him?”
“The only time I’ve ever met him face to face was in Boston, years ago. We were both in on a poker game down there. I lost my ass. He raked in the cash and then as we were leaving he offered it all to me…for a job. The boys and I did the ‘job’ that night. It was an easy one and we walked away with twenty grand in our pocket. It’s what I used to get my club up and running. After that, when he wanted me, he called. He’s been like a ghost since then, though. As far as I know, nobody has seen him.”
“What does he look like?”
“Man, that was over ten years ago…” Dax looked like he was going to kick him again. “Okay! Alright! Gimme a minute. Hell, he was real young, only in his twenties maybe, but a hustler, you know? The guy had probably been on the streets hustling since he was eight. He was real smooth. He had dark hair and really dark brown eyes, almost black. He would have looked Italian, but his skin is really white and he had some kind of weird accent back then.”
“Accent? He doesn’t have an accent.”
“Not anymore,” Hawk said, “But back then he did. I asked him where it was from but he never answered me.”
“Like California or Texas?”
“No man, like Europe.”
“English?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. I’d say more like Russian, I guess. It was a light accent and I didn’t pay that much attention. Over the years he lost it.”
“How tall is he?”
“He was not as tall as me, maybe right at six feet. The kid was built like a brick shithouse, though.”
Dax didn’t say anything for a long time. When he finally spoke, he looked at Clay and Pablo and said, “Put him back in the SUV.”
Angel started moving as quickly as she could back down the hill. The last thing she heard was Hawk grunting as he was tossed back into the rear end of the four-wheel drive.
40
Angel didn’t consciously take a breath until she made it back to her apartment. She ran inside, unloaded her pouch, and hid the video camera in the living room vent. Finally, she collapsed down on the couch and tried to organize her thoughts. “Dan” was the key to all of this. He was the one egging the clubs on to fight and he was most likely the one responsible for Mad Max’s death. But how the hell were they going to find a “ghost?”
She thought about the description Hawk gave and what he said about the “accent.” Picking up the phone she called David. “Hey, brother.” He groaned when he heard her voice. Angel laughed. “That’s a nice greeting.”
“I’m neck-deep in shit over here. Legitimate shit. I don’t have time for favors.”
“This is legitimate shit, I promise. I’m about to call Kyle right now and tell him everything.” Almost. “I think I know who has the coins and who killed Mad Max. It was this Dan guy that set it all up.”
“Nice. What do you need from me?”
“I don’t know where to start looking for him. Apparently, no one has even laid eyes on him over ten years.”
“Well, hell, sis, I’m not sure what you need me for. With all that information, you can probably just look him up on Facebook.”
“Save the sarcasm, please. I’m trying. I know it’s a longshot, but I’m going to text you his stats. Maybe you can just run the description through the database. He had some kind of accent years ago too, Russian or something. Like I said, I know it’s not much, but will you do it and just see what the system might kick out?”
With a sigh David said, “Yeah, but with those vague stats, this will be an all-day search.”
“That’s okay. You start there and I’ll get the task force together and fill them in on the rest. Oh, David!”
“Yeah?”
“What do you know about a crime family in New York by the name of Rossi?”
“Bad news. They run underground clubs all over New York. Every time vice busts one, they change locations. They’re into everything—vice, gambling, prostitution, money laundering….”
“Loan sharking?”
“I’m sure. Why?”
“According to my source, that’s who Mad Max was running from.”
“Shit. Then this Dan guy didn’t have to cut him to pieces. Theo Rossi probably has the guy’s head on a pike at his front gate.”
“You know anyone that knows them? Maybe this Dan guy works for them, or freelances.”
“Dabbles in mutilation?”
She laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”
“The head of Vice at Police Plaza would be your best source of information, but I hear he’s a hardass and hard to get ahold of…there is someone close to us that had a little experience with them years ago, though…”
“Someone close to us? Who?”
“Shit. He’ll kill me for telling you.”
“David!”
“Fine, but you didn’t hear this from me. When Sam was first starting out, trying to buy his own boat, he got a little crazy.”
“A little crazy how?” Angel suddenly had a knot in her stomach at the very thought of one of her brothers being mixed up with these guys.
“He was gambling a lot and he got into debt for a lot of money…to Theo’s little brother Tony.”
“Oh my god! Why didn’t I know about this?”
“You were just a kid. I think you were like eight or nine at the time. Anyways, Sam got the shit beat out of him and the cops found him in an alley one night. He wouldn’t talk to the New York cops but he finally broke down and told Dad what was going on. Dad remortgaged the house, paid off the debt and…I don’t know what else, but they never bothered Sam again.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. What else did I miss out on by being so much younger than the rest of you?”
“That’s all I got.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I bet. Okay, David, thank you. I’ll get back in touch soon. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Angel had no sooner e
nded that call than her phone rang. It was Dax. She swallowed the huge lump in her throat and answered it. “Hello?”
“Hi, baby.” Baby…that sounded good. Not like he’d seen her crawling around on her belly in the dirt.
“Hi. Are you back?”
“Yeah, just got to the ranch. I need to see you. I have some things to take care of first. Will you be home tonight?”
“Of course. I can’t wait.”
“Me too. Hey, Angel?”
“Yeah?”
“Never mind. I’ll tell you when I get there. See you tonight.”
She hung up and stared at the phone wondering what he needed to tell her. It must not be bad, judging from his tone at least. He sounded so affectionate…even more so than usual. Maybe he just missed her. That was a good thing. Even though she’d been following him from afar, she missed him too. She glanced over at the vent where the video recorder was hidden. She made a conscious choice not to think about that now. She’d deal with that later. On her way in to take a shower she made two more calls. One was to Chris Matheson to set up a task force meeting for Monday morning and the other was to Sam. She talked him into meeting her halfway between Hartford and Hanover at a café where she and Kyle met sometimes. Sam wasn’t big on driving, or even leaving the house unless he was getting on a boat, so it took some doing, but in the end, she got her way. Now if she could just get him to remember those days all those years ago…and a guy named Dan.
“Who told you about that?” Sam had been about to take a drink of his coffee when Angel asked him about his “problems” with the Rossis when he was younger. He set the cup down hard and coffee sloshed all over the table. “Was it Mickey? I’ll kick his fat ass…”
“No, Sam, it wasn’t Mickey. It doesn’t matter who told me. What’s important here is that I need to know as much about it, about them, as possible. They could be the key to this whole case we’ve been working on, and maybe even part of the reason Dad died.” Sam’s face went from being angry to sad when she mentioned their father. He was no doubt thinking about those days and how their father had gone to save his son. It was what Sean Brady did, and when he was alive, none of them had appreciated him enough for it.
