“I don’t know. I’ve told her it couldn’t be one of us, but I don’t know if she believes it. I doubt it’ll be enough for her not to follow up on it.”
Angel eyes me. “You bangin’ her?”
The question’s so blunt it takes me by surprise.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“Shit, son, where’s your head at?” he growls.
“It ain’t serious.” It’s true, but for some reason when I say it, I don’t sound all that convinced. “Just some unfinished business from the past, is all.”
“It’s fuckin’ stupid, is what it is. That’s why the past is the past, brother. You don’t drag it into the present.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Now you’re helpin’ her in an investigation that’s gonna lead her straight to us. Right when we got other shit to deal with.”
“It ain’t like that, brother. She’s not gunnin’ for the club. She’s got other fish to fry.”
But Angel’s not convinced. “Can’t trust the law, brother. Either they’re crooked as shit, or they’re on some sacred mission and think they’re wearing white hats.” He scoffs. “Either way is bad, but the white hats are worse. They have a price, same as everyone else. They just don’t know it. At least the corrupt ones know they’re corrupt.”
In the end, against his better judgment I convince Angel to let me arrange a meeting between him and Brooke. So he can decide for himself what to make of her. I tell him I’ll get in touch with her after he calls church.
Turns out, I don’t have to wait that long.
20
Brooke
After my visit to Natalia, I go to the county tax office. I ask one of the workers there to look up the property tax record of the E-Z Wash Express. She’s friendly and helpful at first when I tell her who I am and what I’m looking for: A residential address and telephone number for the owner of the laundry. When she comes back to the counter after going back to consult the records, there’s a strange look on her face.
“All I can give you is the name of the owner on record. That name is M.L. Stephanos,” she says, handing me a stickie note.
“I know that already, though. I need to be able to contact Mister Stephanos.”
“I’m sorry, that information isn’t listed.”
“Not listed? That doesn’t sound right. There must be a mailing address to send the bills.”
“The only address listed is the business itself.”
Frustrated, I go from there to the laundromat itself, determined to get the information out of the old lady who works there. But strangely, when I pull into the lot, I see it’s closed again, just like the first time I went there.
I’m sitting in my car, trying to decide what my next move should be, when my phone rings. I take it out and see that it’s a Cleveland area code.
“Brentano,” I answer.
“It’s Lafontaine, Brentano,” my boss says in his standard slightly impatient voice. “I’m calling for an update.”
I’m surprised. He certainly hasn’t seemed interested in this case up until now. I tell him about Natalia, happy to have something concrete to give him. Strangely, I find myself skipping over the detail about the motorcycle club cut, deciding I’ll hold that information back until I can verify whether someone fitting her description of the man is one of the Lords of Carnage.
“Natalia’s concerned about her safety,” I conclude. “And frankly, I think there’s some legitimacy to that concern. I’d like to put a security detail on her until we can get her out of the area, sir. I was actually planning to call you about that.”
“Is there some reason you can’t coordinate that with the local police department, Brentano?”
“Um…” I hesitate.
“The mayor down there gave me a call a little while ago, by the way,” he tells me. “Says he’s been more than willing to help you with your investigation, but you’ve turned down all offers from him.”
So Holloway did call my boss. He sure didn’t waste any time, that’s for sure. “Actually, sir, that’s not really the case. The mayor doesn’t seem to appreciate my presence here in Tanner Springs. Trust me, he hasn’t offered to help me.”
“Well, he has offered that help to me. And frankly, Agent Brentano, I don’t have unlimited resources to be sending down there, when there’s law enforcement in place that’s already willing to do the job. So you’ll need to coordinate with them.”
Like hell I will. “But sir…”
“That’s all the chatting I have time for, Brentano. Unless you have more to report than just a girl who doesn’t speak English and no way to substantiate her claims.”
I hang up the phone, outraged and demoralized. I’ve always known Lafontaine doesn’t like me much, but this feels like more than that. Like the investigation doesn’t even matter to him. The victims don’t even register to him. As long as I fuck up, he’ll be happy. There’s not a chance in hell he’ll ever give me more resources to work with. Hell, if I showed him any success at all, he’d probably pull me off the case and assign someone else to it.
In some ways, I’ve never been a very good fit for the FBI. Oh, on paper there’s nothing that would tell you this. Ever since I was eighteen, I had dreams of doing exactly what I’m doing right now. I worked my ass off to get in. And God, I was proud when I got my Letter of Appointment.
Why did I want it so badly? To prove something, I guess. Mostly to myself. Growing up, I never had people around me who expected me to amount to much. I was quiet in school. A decent student, but a little unkempt and unremarkable. My teachers mostly ignored me. Everyone just seemed to assume I wasn’t going end up doing anything important.
I wanted to prove people wrong. I wanted to accomplish something hard. Something special. I wanted to prove I was someone.
I also wanted to be in the FBI because I thought it would be about getting justice for people who were hurt. I wanted to take down criminals who hurt the innocent.
I guess in my mind, it would be a little like the adult me getting justice for my younger self. Almost like being able to reach into the past and do something to protect the girl I once was, years after the fact.
This case should be a dream come true for me in that respect.
Now that I’m actually starting to get somewhere, I should be happy as hell.
But instead, I’m seeing that my fate is in the hands of someone who doesn’t want to see me succeed.
And there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.
I almost go back to the hotel to wallow in self-pity. But I have a job to do, even if Craig Lafontaine doesn’t want me to do it.
I point my car in the direction of the Lords of Carnage clubhouse. When I pull into the lot, there are fewer motorcycles parked out front than I remember there being last time. I’m a little intimidated being here without Travis, but I’m hoping I can get in and find Jewel before anyone notices me and tells me to leave — or worse. Parking my car off to one side, I take a deep breath, then get out and stride purposefully toward the door before I can second-guess myself.
I’m in luck: one of the first people I see when I push inside is Jewel, who’s wiping down some tables by the bar.
“Hey!” she greets me enthusiastically, but then her eyes flicker and she looks toward the door. “You here with Beast?”
“No,” I tell her, and cross the room quickly to get to her. “Look, I know this is probably not allowed, but I came here to see you.” Among other things. “Since I didn’t know where you lived, I figured this was my best shot.”
“Oh. Sure, that makes sense.” She tucks the towel she was using into one of her belt loops. “What’s up?”
“Um, could I get something to drink?” I ask, to buy some time. “I’m really thirsty. Just a club soda or a glass of water would be fine.”
“Yeah, no problem. Come on.” I follow her over to the bar and sit down at the same stool I used when I was here with Travis the last time. As Jewel grabs me a glass and fills it with soda water, I
glance around the room at the smattering of men playing pool or observing a game. None of them come close to fitting the appearance of the man Natalia described.
Jewel sets the glass in front of me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I say. I take a long drink, even though truthfully I’m not thirsty at all. “Oh, man, that tastes good,” I sigh. “I was parched.”
“So, what can I do for you?” she asks, leaning against the counter.
“Well, I have kind of a favor to ask you. And I feel bad asking it, since I barely know you, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“What is it?”
“Natalia is getting out of the hospital tomorrow,” I begin. “She needs a place to stay for a few days, until we locate her father and he manages to come get her. She’s afraid that the men she escaped from will be looking for her, and frankly, I don’t think that’s an unreasonable fear. I need to find somewhere where she’ll be out of sight.” I take a deep breath. “And I was wondering if you might be willing to take her in for a little bit.”
“Of course,” Jewel says without hesitation. “Olga and I can do it together. We live on the same floor of our apartment building. Natalia won’t even have to go outside if she doesn’t want to.”
“Oh, my gosh, that would be great. I really appreciate this, Jewel.” Relief spreads through me. Well, at least one of my problems is solved, albeit temporarily.
Jewel is assuring me it’s no problem when the front door opens and a crowd of men starts flooding in. There are at least a dozen of them, and from the expressions on their faces, something bad either has happened or is about to.
I’m relieved to see that none of them fit Natalia’s description.
The men over by the pool tables look over at the group streaming in. One of them, a tall, square-jawed and rugged man with anger flashing in his eyes, barks, “Church. Now.”
“Shit,” Jewel murmurs as we both watch them stream past. She pulls the ponytail holder out of her hair and stares at the group as they head straight for a room toward the back. “Something’s not right.”
The square-jawed man looks around the room, his eyes landing on us. “Jewel,” he half-yells, his eyes flashing. “Get your friend outta here. This ain’t no place for a civilian to be right now.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” shouts a familiar voice behind me. I turn to see Travis, looking absolutely furious.
“I just came…” I begin, reddening at the thought that I’m going to have to lie to him. But he’s having none of it.
“Get the hell out, Brooke,” he says, grabbing me by the arm. “I mean it. This ain’t the place or the time.”
He pulls me out of the clubhouse by the elbow. Once we’re out in the parking lot, he starts dragging me toward my car. “Go. Now.”
“What’s wrong?” as I stumble along.
“None of your business.”
“But I need to talk to you, Travis!”
“Later,” he barks.
“When?”
“When I’m fucking able to!” he shouts. “Go back to the hotel!” He turns on his heel and strides toward the clubhouse. “And don’t come here again. You understand me?”
The door slams behind him. After a second, Jewel comes out, a cell phone in her hand.
“Hey,” she murmurs. “Let’s exchange cell numbers. You can call me as soon as you know when Natalia’s being released. I’ll talk to Olga when I go home tonight and figure out a plan.”
I give her my number, and she texts me so I’ll have hers. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” She glances back at the building. “And don’t mind Beast. Something bad must have happened for the men to be acting like this. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you.”
I hope she’s right. But if Travis suspects I came here to look for Natalia’s rapist, he’ll have every reason to be furious at me. I just hope Jewel doesn’t get in trouble for letting me stay.
21
Beast
Church is fucking grim.
The men take Sarge and Horse’s deaths hard. The thirst for blood is in the air. Outlaw Sons blood. Iron Spiders blood. The fact that we ended all the fuckers who ambushed us isn’t enough. They want full-on annihilation.
Bullet’s in the chapel with us, his wound patched up by Smiley. He’s greeted as a hero.
Angel pounds the gavel to calm the angry shouting and the calls for revenge. “All right. This war the Sons started. We will end it. We will end them.” Shouts of approval greet his words. “But the Lords aren’t gonna fight a bunch of fucked up street scuffles. When we’re finished, the Outlaw Sons and what’s left of the Spiders will be wiped off the face of the earth. But until that day comes, we plan. We make them sweat. We need to find out the full extent of their operations. Where their compound is. Who they do business with. Where their weak links are.” He looks down the table. “Tweak. You’re in charge of intel. Recon. Tell me what resources you need, and you’ve got them.”
Tweak nods. “You got it, boss.”
There’s a small ripple in the room. This is serious shit. And Angel’s in charge. Rock’s absence is felt, but Angel doesn’t give us time to think about it.
“I’m gonna talk to Axel,” he continues, referring to the president of our chapter to the south. “Tell him about everything. Let them know they need to watch their backs. And I’m gonna get in touch with Oz. Tell him we might need their help.”
Oz is the president of the Death Devils, a club to our east. Our clubs have a solid alliance these days — not the least of which reason is his daughter Isabel is with our brother Thorn now.
“You think we need to go into lockdown?” Lug Nut asks.
“No. Not yet. I don’t want the old ladies to be too alarmed.” Angel scans all of our faces. “This is the new reality. Life during wartime ain’t gonna be easy. We need to make sure it ain’t any rougher on the families than it has to be.”
We talk security, and Angel tells all of us to watch our backs and to not travel outside our territory without letting him know. He ends the meeting with a final, hard bang of the gavel. The men file out, silent and grave.
“Angel,” I say to him as he stands. “I gotta talk to you.”
“What is it?” He looks like he’s aged five years in the last three hours.
“Brooke. The fed. That was the woman talking to Jewel when we came in.”
“She was here?” he asks, incredulous.
“Yeah.” I have to tell him the truth. “It ain’t the first time, either. I brought her here a couple days ago.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Angel explodes. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this. Why?”
“Temporary insanity,” I sigh.
I tell him it started out with me tryin’ to help Brooke get the Ukrainian girl some second-hand clothes to wear for when she got out of the hospital. Jewel was the first person I thought of to ask. “I don’t know that many chicks who don’t dress like hookers,” I grunt. “Thought Jewel might have some stuff. So, I introduced Brooke to her.”
“And now the FBI agent you’re fucking knows where our goddamn clubhouse is,” he sneers.
I don’t say anything. I royally fucked up, there’s no getting around it. But at that moment, I wasn’t seeing Brooke as a fed. I was just seeing her as… Brooke. The girl I knew so long ago. The woman whose tears I couldn’t help but want to dry.
The woman whose bed I wanted to be in.
And now, shit’s all fucked up. She’s in my head all the time. And even though I know deep down she doesn’t give a shit about what our club does, the fact remains that her investigation is getting her uncomfortably close to the Lords.
“I’m gonna go find her,” I say. “I’m gonna get her to tell me what the fuck she was doing here today. But I think you need to talk to her. You and I both know our club ain’t mixed up in the shit she’s uncovering. But she needs to hear it from you.”
“I ain’t talkin’ to no fed,” Angel insists.
/>
“I don’t see as how you have a choice, brother.” My jaw clenches as I look at him. “This is the only way to keep control of the situation. If she thinks we’re hiding something, she’s gonna go lookin’ for it.”
“Fuck,” he groans. “Beast, what the fuck have you brought into the club?”
I don’t say anything. Because damned if I know.
As Angel and I walk out of the chapel, there’s a commotion outside. We go out into the main room to see Rock standing in the middle of a group of our brothers, looking angry. About ten feet away is Trudy. She’s crying, and shouting at him, shaking with rage.
She’s wearing large dark glasses. But that can’t hide the fact that her face is swollen and purpling. Her lower lip is busted.
“You’re fucking out of my house!” she screams, flinging a set of keys at him. “Don’t you come back again, ever! I’m changing the locks, and you will never touch me again!”
“Shit,” Angel murmurs.
“Get out of my fucking way, all of you!” Trudy howls, turning on us. “You can keep this son of a bitch! He is a sick motherfucker, do you know that? And I have put up with his fucked up shit for the last time!”
The men standing near her clear a path as she grabs a chair and hurls it at Rock, narrowly missing him. Then she storms out of the clubhouse, still sobbing. After the door slams behind here, there’s a moment of eerie silence.
“Fuck that gash,” Rock growls. “She was more fuckin’ trouble than she was worth. Good goddamn riddance.”
I’m fuckin’ stunned. I’ve heard Rock be sharp with Trudy before, but usually she gives as good as she gets. But I can’t believe he was hittin’ her. Only goddamn pussies hit women. I look around at some of the other brothers, who look as shocked as I am. Gunner and Thorn glance at each other and shake their heads.
“So, I’m back!” Rock bellows, raising his arms wide. “Your prez is back!”
In any other circumstance, the men would be yellin’ and clappin’. But other than a couple of subdued whistles, the Lords don’t say much.
BEASTLords of Carnage MC Page 14
