by Alyssa Breck
The first image showed an orange plastic chair like you’d find in a cheap diner in a shabby looking room with concrete floors. A black vest was draped over the back of the chair. Hem enlarged the picture. In this case, it was unfortunate that all the Knights of War vests were made exactly the same. Only the original five members had different vests, and the vest in the picture wasn’t one of those. That eliminated Paul even though he wasn’t a suspect in Hem’s mind. He was very straight-laced and a good guy to boot.
There was no denying the vest, but Hem couldn’t imagine any of his brothers being involved in that kind of shit. There were no people in the image. Maybe if she sent a picture of the cartel dude, that would help him figure it out. He replied to the email asking if she could do that. She’d mentioned that his face wasn’t clear in the video, but there were other things to look at like hairstyle, body type, and tattoos. Tattoos held a plethora of information from gang affiliation to tribal allegiance.
The mug shot of the suspect in Calliope’s case was of a dude named Carlos Rubio. Name didn’t ring a bell. He had some old English letters tattooed on his neck, but they were cut off by the bottom of the picture. Not high-quality tatt work either. Probably done in prison with a dirty needle and ink from a ballpoint pen or some concoction of soot and soap. It was a wonder they didn’t have a prison hepatitis epidemic.
While he waited for Callie’s response about the cartel dude, Hem went into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle. He spent about half of his time at the clubhouse and half at home. He figured it would be better to be in the privacy of his own apartment while he delved into this mess. He was half afraid that he was going to have to kill one of his brothers. There were lines that should never be crossed. Hurting children or women … that was a hard fucking line. His mind flashed back to seeing Holly with a black eye, and Hunter telling him how her father had beaten her with his fists and a belt. It hadn’t been hard to help kill Chris Farris. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.
The couch in his house hadn’t had much use. Hem didn’t sit very often. He was one of those people who always needed to be moving around. It drove his mother crazy when he was growing up. Calliope had him thinking about his mom. She was a strong woman. His dad was an asshole, but at least he’d stuck around out of obligation if nothing else. They were still together last time he saw them.
His mom and sister had shown up for his graduation from basic training, and that was the last time he’d seen them in person. They’d kept in touch on the phone, but the calls got further and further apart until he called one day and found the number had been disconnected. That was the house phone. A lot of people didn’t have those anymore. Maybe they’d all gone on to cell phones. He hadn’t really tried to find the numbers, but he could find them if he really wanted to. But he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. At this point, it almost felt like he’d be reaching out to strangers because he’d let himself become so disconnected.
The white backlight of the computer cast a glow around the table. He picked up the machine and opened up a dark web search engine. Hem typed in his login information and then typed in his mother’s name, Patricia Silvereagle. He typed in her birthday and social security number, but his finger hovered over the enter button. What if she’d died? Did he want to know? He pressed the button and closed his eyes.
The script appeared with a familiar address and a new cell phone number. He jotted it down. He’d give her a call soon. With perfect timing, his email registered a new email from Calliope.
He clicked the email and opened the attachment. A high-resolution picture filled his computer screen. He didn’t immediately recognize the man, but he did recognize his belt buckle; it was rodeo style with a gold horse and dagger on the left side. He was part of Restrepo, the Colombian cartel. The man was holding the hand of a frail-looking young woman. Hem thought Calliope was being generous with her age estimation. This kid looked way younger to him, but maybe it was because she was so thin.
There was something glowing in the upper right corner of the image. Hem blew it up to make out what the light was. It was an eye. A dog’s eye. That was odd. Why was there a dog in the room?
Closing the image, he paced the living room. He had to think of a way to find out who the cartel asshole was, then maybe he could figure out which of the Knights had an affection for trafficked girls. His stomach lurched. He thought maybe it was a stolen cut. There was no one in his chapter that would do that shit. He was sure of it. The vest didn’t have a chapter indication on the back. That was one odd thing. Nobody in his house had a vest missing that insignia.
He kept records of the other chapters, and he was going to find out if any of them were on the registry. It wouldn’t be smart to alert anyone else yet. The offending chapter didn’t need a heads up that one of their members was probably a pedophile.
It took him nearly two hours to run all the members through the registry software. No one hit. Hem took a deep breath and leaned back on the couch. That was the easy part. Now he’d have to find a way to dig deeper. The nearest chapter outside of Dallas was in Arkansas. Maybe Hunter would be down for a quick roundtrip. They could do it in a day if they left early.
He called Hunter and put the phone on speaker. It rang twice.
“What’s up, man?”
“Not too much. I might need to drive out to Arkansas in the next day or two. You down for a quick road trip with me?”
“Of course. Everything okay?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah. Holly’s out with her mom looking at cakes and flowers. I’d rather shoot myself than be part of that. I told her to get whatever she wants.”
Hem laughed. “Best to stay out of the women’s work.”
“Amen. So, what’s up?”
“Do you know of any members from any other charters that might have a history in trafficking?”
“What kind of trafficking? Drugs, exotic animals? People?”
“People. Girls in particular.”
“Hmm. Don’t know of any off the top of my head. But I don’t know everybody either. The newer chapters are pretty much strangers to me. Their presidents are the only ones vetted by us when they form a chapter. Then they’re responsible for the members they bring in. Why?”
“A friend showed me a still image from a crime video with what appears to be an unwilling girl in it, and one of our vests is in the room.”
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah, that was my reaction too. I swear, man, we find out one of our guys is involved in this bullshit, and I’ll fucking end him.”
“I’ll help you. You have some indication this guy is in Little Rock?”
“Well, the cut in the picture doesn’t have a chapter rocker. So, I’m wondering if it’s a new one. They’re one of the newer chapters. Also, don’t know how old the video is. But, man, the kid in there is like fifteen years old. I’m like literally sick to my stomach.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Anyway, I thought we could poke around. Maybe go up there, meet with them on some false pretense and check out their cuts. I already ran them all through the registry. No registered sex offenders that I could find.”
“I’m down. I have a thing with Holly tomorrow, but I could go on Sunday for sure.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hem?”
“Yeah?”
“How’d you get this information?”
“One of my contacts in Dallas PD shared it with me. If we can’t pinpoint who this fucker is and either turn him in or kill him, heat is going to rain down on our club.”
“Fuck. Yeah, okay. We’ll take care of it.”
“Hey, keep this between us for now. I don’t want my friend to be put in any jeopardy.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Sure thing. See you on Sunday.”
There was a punching bag in his garage, and Hem had some pent up energy to expel.
Chapter Six
&nbs
p; Calliope
The water dripping from the kitchen sink reminded her that she kept forgetting to fix it. Calliope rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head to muffle the sound. A leaking faucet was really the least of her worries, though.
Hem hadn’t called her after their clandestine meeting at the bar. But she knew he would be in contact when he had some information. He wasn’t one for empty conversations. Hence, them not talking for a year or more at a time. But he was also the guy she could call at any hour, and he’d drop whatever he was doing to help her.
Her eyes felt like sandpaper. Hours of viewing videos and pictures of shit no one should ever see had her mentally exhausted. Sleep evaded her, though, and that god damn dripping faucet sounded like it was playing through a guitar amp. Calliope pulled the blanket up to her neck and reached for the remote control on her nightstand. She didn’t have cable, so she clicked onto Netflix and started the Law and Order: SVU series from the beginning. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d watched the show. The evolution of Olivia Benson’s character intrigued her. The detective made mistakes and learned a lot. Kind of like Calliope had in the Dallas Police Department.
Giving up on sleep, she got up and made a cup of hot tea and pulled some files onto her bed. The perp in custody wasn’t a biker. He was a street gangster with a drug habit. He was the low-hanging fruit. They needed the tree. If Hem couldn’t find the tree, Calliope sure as hell would. She just didn’t want to take down Hem’s club in the process. Most of the guys had to be good. Hem wouldn’t be there if they weren’t. Or maybe he wasn’t the guy he used to be. People changed. Stop! He’s given you no reason to doubt him. Being a cop had left her overly cynical.
There were five hundred pages of text messages and over a thousand emails to pore over for the case. Because it happened on the computer, both sex crimes and cyber-crimes were involved. And the FBI would be next.
After a hundred pages of text messages, her email dinged. Calliope opened it. A message from Hem sat in her inbox.
“Did you happen to notice the dog in the upper right-hand corner? What the hell is that about?”
A dog? Callie opened up the photo again and saw the glint of the dog’s eye up in the corner. Her suspect had saved a lot of pics of dogs. Jesus. If this dude is engaging in dogfighting, she’d have to shoot him. None of the photos or videos he had saved showed dogs fighting, but she was curious now about the guy’s fascination with dogs. She wasn’t ready to assign him the dog lover title.
Chapter Seven
Hem
The drive to Little Rock was just over five hours without making any stops. While there was some urgency to the trip, it wasn’t a white-knuckle ride type of drive. Hem was in the driver’s seat when they pulled onto the freeway.
“How’s Holly?” Hem asked as he negotiated the Chevy into the fast lane. They’d fueled up the night before, so they wouldn’t need to stop for gas for a couple of hours. With the way Hunter was pounding coffee, they’d probably have to stop for the head before then, though.
“She’s good. Excited about the wedding.”
“I’m sure. Are you all moving into her place in Sugar Branch?”
“After much commiserating, we’ve decided to buy a new house closer to Dallas. We’re going to rent out both of our houses. Discretionary income.”
“It’s not like you guys need the money.” Hem laughed. Holly had inherited a small fortune when her dad died. Like a ten million-plus dollars sized fortune.
“Nope. We don’t, but it’s also a good plan for the future. Rental properties. Legit money in case anything goes sideways.”
“I hear that.”
“When are you going to buy a place, brother?” Hunter asked.
“I’m not sure. I kind of like just paying rent and leaving all the other responsibilities to a landlord. If I decide I want to move, no problem. Don’t have to sell anything. I can just pack my shit and jet.”
“I get that. I was like that when I was your age.” Hunter was older than Hem by about ten years, but Hem was an old soul. He didn’t feel like he was that much younger than his best friend.
Hunter wore his cut layered over a T-shirt with jeans and a black bandanna tied around his head. Aviator sunglasses were perched on his nose. He looked every bit the part of badass biker.
“So,” Hunter continued. “Have you discovered anything else about this case?”
“Not about the case, but I hacked into the PD’s website to take a look at the players on the other side.”
Hunter’s eyebrow shot up over his sunglasses. “Is there anything you can’t hack into?”
Hem smiled. “The Army didn’t give me top-secret security clearance for nothing.”
“But, you were debriefed, of course.”
“Sure, but you can’t unring the bell. They can’t take away my knowledge. They just told me not to use it in the private sector or risk federal prison.”
“That’s quite a risk to take.”
“Yeah, but I’m too pretty for prison and too smart for them to catch me.”
“And you trust this contact in the PD to not turn on you?”
“Well, she doesn’t know I hacked into the police department’s server.”
“She?”
“Yeah.”
“The girl in the bar the other night? Is that her?”
“Yes. We were in the intelligence unit together in the service.”
“I see. Old girlfriend?”
“Nah. It was never like that. But I looked out for her. Pretty girls on deployment have different challenges.”
“From the enemy, you mean?”
“More so from our own ranks.”
“Was there someone who gave her trouble?”
“Yeah. The commander was always trying to make the moves on her, but she didn’t want to report him. We all know how it should work when sexual harassment is reported, but it often ends with the reporter being penalized worse than the suspect.”
“But, you believed her, obviously.”
“I did. And when I saw it happen, it was confirmed. I was ready to turn him in, but she begged me not to for the same reasons. She just wanted to do her job without complications.”
“I get that. So, you just kept an eye on her?”
“Yep. Until he crossed a line, and then I beat the shit out of him and gave him a mouthful of dirt with a stern warning as a side dish.”
Hunter chuckled. “That’s the Hem I know and love.”
Hem wasn’t gratuitously violent, but when necessary for defense or honor, he had no qualms about knocking heads and breaking teeth. He wanted to help Callie with this case. He wanted her to catch whoever was doing this sick shit.
The scenery flew by, and an hour into the drive, Hunter put his hand up. “I gotta piss, dude.”
“I knew that was coming.”
A few miles down the freeway, the exit for a service station came into view. Hem maneuvered onto the off-ramp and pulled into a truck stop across the street from a Shell station.
They disembarked the truck. Hunter started laughing as they made their way inside.
“What?” Hem asked.
Hunter leaned toward him. “Watch out for the pay-for-pussy women.”
Hem jokingly punched Hunter in the shoulder. “Fuck you.”
The girl behind the counter looked to be early twenties with a brown pixie cut hairstyle and stars tattooed on the back of her hand. She was cute but had an air of immaturity like she was still stuck in the Hot Topic trend that high school girls went through.
“How’re you doing?” she asked.
Hem nodded. “Fine, thanks.”
She smiled and kept her eyes on him as he and Hunter passed to walk back toward the restrooms. He wasn’t sure if she was watching them because she was interested or because she thought they might steal something.
The two men relieved themselves and washed their hands.
“I need a snack,” Hem said as he slowed down in the candy
aisle.
Hunter grabbed a bag of peppered beef jerky. “Me too.”
“Grab me one of those too.” Hem also picked up a bag of salt and vinegar chips, two Kit Kats, and he got a large soda from the fountain drinks. Road trip food. Hem and Hunter could probably survive a week-long trip on just beef jerky and coffee.
“You’re probably gonna need some breath mints with that combo,” Hunter said and smirked.
“I’m not planning on kissing the Little Rock chapter dudes.”
Hunter laughed. “God, I hope not.”
They piled their wares onto the counter. Pixie girl used a handheld scanner and piled their snacks into a bag.
Hem tossed in a pack of cinnamon gum from beside the counter. “Add that in, please.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow.
“Fuck off,” Hem said and pulled his wallet out.
Hunter reached for the chain to his wallet too.
Hem put up his hand. “I got it, man. Least I can do.”
“Cool.” Hunter stared at a man with a big belly and wearing a John Deere cap. The dude walked a little too close to them for their comfort.
“Hey, Bart,” pixie girl said.
He raised a chubby hand as he passed. People were different outside the big city. Hem had to remind himself of that. The man was likely a local farmer or something, and the girl obviously knew him.
Hem stuck his debit card into the reader and paid for their junk food.
“Holly would not approve of this lunch,” Hunter said while tearing into the bag of beef jerky.
“Got you on a diet?”
“No. But she says I need to cut back on salt and eat more vegetables.” Hunter stuck out his tongue. “Gross.”
Hem pulled back onto the freeway. “She’s right, man. You only got one body. Need to keep it in working order.”
“Dude, this body has taken a licking and keeps on ticking.”
“That’s what she said.” Hem stifled a laugh.
“Dirty fucker,” Hunter said and popped a piece of jerky in his mouth.
