by Alyssa Breck
Dangerous SECRETS
KNIGHTS OF WAR MC
Book 2
Alyssa Breck
Copyright © 2019 Alyssa Breck
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Synopsis
Calliope Cooper lives a straight-laced life spending her days as a Dallas Police detective working in cybercrimes and her nights as a homebody. When she cracks a hard drive for the major crimes unit, she sees something that necessitates she contact an old friend on the wrong side of the law; an old friend she owes a debt to.
Hemene Silvereagle is the brains of the Knights of War motorcycle club. An Army buddy calls him with information that one of his own might be involved in shady business even for his outlaw club. While they try to find the answers to protect Hem’s club from a legal smackdown, the duo delves into the murky underworld of human trafficking and police corruption where the lines between good and bad are blurred. When Calliope goes missing, Hem’s feelings for her and his allegiance to his club are put to the test resulting in an explosive showdown.
Chapter One
Hem
The box for the new coffee maker sat on the bar. Hem pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt and slit the plastic seal. He yanked open the top and smiled to himself. There was nothing like a good cup of coffee in the morning. It only took a few minutes to unbox the machine and get a pot of brew going. He closed his eyes as the aroma wafted over the bar.
“I don’t want any strippers at the reception, okay?” Holly put her hands on her hips and stared at Hem.
“I’m not in charge of entertainment, am I?” he asked.
Holly Farris was the girlfriend—make that fiancée—of Hem’s best friend and the Sergeant at Arms of the Knights of War motorcycle club.
“No. My mother is. Which, on second thought, might be worse.” Holly sighed. “Maybe I should hire a party planner.”
Hem shrugged. Far be it for him to stick his nose into wedding planning. He wanted no part of it but would show up on the day and stand beside his best friend. Hunter did good finding Holly.
Speaking of the devil, Hunter strode out of the chapel on the other side of the clubhouse. “Pour me a cup, man?”
“Yeah. Got us a new machine and joined one of those fancy coffee clubs. This will be the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”
Hunter laughed. “For a dude, you know way too much about gourmet coffee.”
Hem deadpanned. “That’s sexist to say. You think only women know about coffee? Hmm?”
Hunter put his hands up. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. If you want to be the coffee king, be my guest.”
Hem tutted and pulled a ceramic mug with a cartoonish logo on the side out from under the bar and filled it with steaming coffee. He slid the cup across the bar top. “Taste that, then see if you still want to trash talk my coffee expertise.”
“Thanks.” Hunter blew on the coffee then took a sip. “Shit. That is good.”
“That’s pure Colombian gold right there.” Hem smiled.
“I can think of something else that Colombia would consider gold.” Hunter winked.
“Where’s mine?” Holly asked.
Hem poured another cup and added two spoons of sugar and some half and half. “One for the lady, of course.”
“You’re too good to me, Hem.”
“You know I love you, and if this fool ever steps out of line, I’ll snatch you away from him.”
Holly blew him a kiss, and he closed his fist like he was catching it.
Hunter was used to Holly and Hem teasing each other. “So, since we’re on the subject of my future wife …” he said.
Holly stared at her feet. “Yeah …”
Hem looked from one to the other. His stomach did a little flip-flop. “Why the hesitation? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Holly tugged at the collar of her navy blue top. “We wanted to ask you something.”
“Look, I know you two love me, and I love you right back, but I don’t think a three-way marriage is legal. Not even in Texas.” Hem grinned.
She laughed and reached across the bar to slap his shoulder. “This is serious.”
Hem gave them his most stern look. “Shoot. Lay it on me.”
Holly looked up at him. Her blue eyes were lined with black that made them more bright against her pale skin. “Will you walk me down the aisle? Give me away at the wedding, Hem?”
Hunter put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “It would mean a lot to us.”
Hem came around the bar and hugged both of them. “Of course, I will. I’d be honored.” Not much made him emotional, but the fact they were asking him to step into such an important role meant a lot.
Holly came up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”
Hem rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all mushy on me, girl. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you guys.”
He wasn’t entirely surprised by the request. The three of them had history. A very dark but necessary history. Holly’s dad should’ve been the one to walk her down the aisle, but he had been a son of a bitch. And after a particularly bad beating he put down on Holly, Hem and Hunter had killed the motherfucker, and it was ugly; a lot of blood and begging and bullshit. Men who beat their wives and kids were cowards. And that was how Chris Farris had gone out, like the little bitch that he was.
Things between Hem, Hunter, and Holly had changed that day. They’d been close before, but that event had sealed them with a secret. It was a secret they’d all take to the grave.
Hunter pulled Hem into a hug. “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it, brother.”
“I thought Hunter and Holly were getting married, not you two assholes.” Maddox put his helmet on the bar and shook out his long blond hair.
“Fuck off, Mad,” Hunter said. “You’re just jealous of the love me and Hem share.”
The VP of the club rolled his eyes and planted a kiss on Holly’s cheek. “Why do you put up with this?”
Holly grinned and leaned her head against Hunter’s shoulder. “Love does strange things to a woman.”
“If he ever does you wrong, you just let me know, and I’ll beat his ass, sweetheart.”
She laughed. “No. I’ll beat his ass.”
“Damn.” Maddox laughed. “I a
lmost forgot about that time you put a smackdown on that bar tramp.”
Holly winced. “Not my proudest moment.”
Maddox was referring to Rochelle. At Holly’s graduation party last year, Rochelle had tried to put a wedge between Holly and Hunter, and Holly wasn’t having it. When Rochelle hauled off and slapped Hunter, Holly kicked the shit out of her, and Rochelle hadn’t been back. Nobody missed her except maybe Lincoln. He was her current fuck toy back then. If he was still seeing her, he wasn’t doing at the club. Thank God. Nobody missed her even though she spent a lot of money in their bar.
“Nonsense,” Maddox said as he walked around the bar and inspected the new coffee maker. He picked up the bag of fresh-ground coffee and sniffed it. “You did this club a service. You were able to get rid of that barfly when no one else could. We’re forever in your debt.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and ran his hand through his hair.
“Well, I’m glad I could help then.” Holly curtsied. “I’m sure there’s no shortage of her type. She can be replaced.”
“Trust me. Nobody wants her replaced,” Hem said. Rochelle had come onto him several times, but his standards had never been that low. Not even when he was in the desert surrounded by mostly men during a war. A part of him thought she was sad, though. Like, what was going to happen to her when she got old? No husband, no kids. She had money, but that wouldn’t buy someone to care about her. Oh, well. Rochelle had made her bed, and she’d likely die alone in it. It wasn’t Hem’s nor the club’s problem.
Maddox parked his ass on a barstool and sipped his coffee. “So, there’s a big job setting up down in Galveston. I’m going to see if Paul wants to put a bid in on it.”
The front of the motorcycle club was their business, Knights Welding. They were pipeline welders. That was how they earned their legitimate money, and they were good at what they did. Paul had founded the motorcycle club back in the seventies with a few other guys who’d made bank working on the Alaska pipelines. His reputation in the industry kept them all employed and paid well.
“Galveston, huh?” Hunter said.
“Galveston Island is beautiful,” Holly interjected. “Lots of quaint museums and restaurants. My mom and I like to go shopping down there in the summer.”
“Sounds like someplace I wouldn’t want to be stuck in for too long.” Hunter chuckled.
Holly grabbed his elbow. “Don’t make me force you to get some culture, babe. I can make you take my mom and me down there for the weekend.”
“Nooooooo,” he crooned.
“Hey,” Hem said. “There’s a beef jerky outlet down there. So, it’s not so bad.”
Holly smirked. “Maybe your brother would like to take us.”
Hem choked, then laughed. His little brother was Holly’s mom’s boy toy when she visited Dallas, and everyone in the club knew it. “I’m sure he’d be happy to take your mom.”
“He already has,” Holly said quietly and snickered.
Just as the laughter was starting to wane, the door swung open again, and Paul’s wife, Lenore, came bustling in. She was tall with dark brown hair and a pretty face. Two reusable shopping bags hung from her hands. Lenore kept the club stocked with groceries and also was in charge of hiring the cleaning lady who came in twice a week to keep the club from looking like a teenage boy’s dorm room.
“Hi, y’all.” Lenore had the most southern accent that Hem had ever heard in Texas. Everyone thought she was too sweet to be married to the president of a biker gang. But despite her sweet demeanor and soft voice, she was a strong-willed woman who kept Paul in line.
“Howdy,” Holly called. “Can I help with the groceries?”
“You can help me in the kitchen, darling. You men can make yourselves useful and go get the other bags out of the trunk of my car.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hem said as he rounded the bar. Hunter, Maddox, and Hem all dutifully went out and grabbed the rest of the bags. Lenore drove a Mercedes S-class, and it fit her perfectly. She was a classy lady, and Paul took good care of her.
After the grocery bags were deposited on the kitchen floor, Paul called them into the chapel for church.
* * *
With another cup of steaming coffee on his left and the laptop in front of him, Hem waited for the other members.
Hunter walked into the room, pulling on his beard. “Jesus. Holly is driving me nuts.”
Hem laughed. “You knew that job was dangerous when you took it, brother.”
“I know. I know.” Hunter blew on his coffee cup. “I just want to show up and get married. I legit don’t give a shit about what color the flowers are or whether the cake is chocolate or vanilla or red velvet. No wonder these events cost a fortune.”
“Well, she can afford it.”
“Thank God because I’d have to voice my opinion on the dress alone that costs thousands of dollars.” He smiled. “I prefer her in her birthday suit anyway.”
The president of the club was a big dude with a long, salt-and-pepper beard. Paul wasn’t super active anymore. His hellraising days settled about ten years ago. But he was still in charge of the club. He took his seat at the head of the conference room table.
A few other members straggled in looking like they hadn’t slept much the night before. It wasn’t like the meetings were held at six in the morning, it was almost noon. Lazy fuckers.
Maddox was the last to come in and closed the double doors behind him. He took a seat next to the president.
Paul pushed his glasses up on his nose and focused his gaze on Hem. “You have the minutes from the last meeting?”
“Yep.” Hem pushed a small stack of papers toward the middle of the table. “The agenda is on the backside of the minutes. Trying to save some trees.”
“When did you become a tree-hugging bitch?” Ryker said and smirked. “What’s next? An electric scooter to replace your hog?”
Hem raised his middle finger. “Fuck yourself with a prickly pine tree, Ryker. And maybe take a bath to reduce your carbon footprint, you dirty bastard.”
The teasing never stopped. It was all done in a good-natured way. No one was out to start shit. Most of the jabs were actually funny. And Hem was kind of a tree-hugging bitch. There was no way he’d give up his bike, but he didn’t mind recycling where he could or using less paper.
“Settle down, girls.” Paul looked over the minutes and flipped the paper over.
“Let’s talk about this job down in Galveston.” Paul leaned back in his chair.
Maddox pulled out a stapled packet of pages. “It would pay well, but it would require some of us to relocate for about a year. Galveston is too far to run back and forth.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Paul said. He looked around at the men seated at the table. “I know it’s been calm since, but I’m hesitant to split us up after the shit that went down last year.”
“Understandable,” Maddox said. He scratched at his neck, where a large tattoo of a black crow covered one side. “It could be worth a lot of legit earnings. That’s the only reason I brought it to the table.”
“If things were different, I’d be all over this. But we’ve got business with Mescalito coming up, and we can’t be shorthanded for the run or home base security. But we’ll vote on it, Mad.”
“Fair enough.”
“All in favor of bidding on the job in Galveston, raise your hands.” Paul looked around the table. No one raised their hands. “All opposed.” Everyone raised their hands.
“Motion fails,” Paul said.
“So noted,” Hem said. Being the secretary of the club wasn’t the coolest position, not like being sergeant at arms or VP, but Hem liked order and organization. And he was the intel guy in the club. While they still kept a book ledger, Hem had the operation completely computerized. Thanks to his time working IT in the Army, there weren’t many technical issues he couldn’t handle or hack. If the club ever had a need to bust through the backdoor of the Pentagon, Hem could likely do it. Despi
te debriefing upon exiting the service, the Army couldn’t take back the knowledge they’d planted in his head during training.
He’d spent six years serving his country and still had a big chunk of his GI Bill available if he ever wanted to do something beyond welding and minding the business for the club and the bar they owned. The welding business was essentially a co-op. Everyone working there had a stake in the company. The same went for the bar. The dues the members paid to the club went into a fund to keep the clubhouse in electricity and water, paid the property taxes, and handled any losses the welding company or bar might suffer.
Last year, the club had been shot up by some angry Russians with Holly and Hunter inside. The member dues fund had footed the bill to repair the damage. Another part of Hem’s job was to launder the money that came in from their below-board ventures, which accounted for about forty percent of the revenue coming in. It wasn’t hard to wash the money and funnel into their business accounts.
“Next up on the agenda. The run to El Paso. Looks like we have Hem, Hunter, Maddox, and the prospect of their choice.”
Hunter nodded at Hem. They were a good team. Hem trusted the man with his life.
“Nothing unusual about this run, but I don’t have to tell y’all that shit can go sideways in the blink of an eye. Be careful. Check in with Ryker or Sin when the deal is done.”
They’d done these runs hundreds of times. But Paul always gave them the protocol speech beforehand. It was his way.
“California went on the last run, so let’s take Plato this time.” Maddox stroked his beard. “Tell him to leave his books here. We need him alert, not engrossed in Harry Potter.”
Plato had grown a library that took up half a wall inside the clubhouse. The dude loved to read and was always encouraging the guys to pick up a book. On the downside, he easily slipped into his own world, and that was dangerous when dealing with the cartel. The relationship between the Knights of War and the Mescalito cartel was amiable, but neither side trusted the other completely. That wasn’t how it worked in the world of drug trafficking. Letting down your guard got people killed.
