by Alyssa Breck
It didn’t take long for one of the other detectives to pick up on it. He pointed to the picture. “Is this guy a member of the Knights of War.”
“No,” she answered, probably a little too quickly.
“You sound pretty sure of that.”
“I’ve investigated that angle already.”
“We can’t see his face. So, how do you know that?” Agent Perkins asked. Calliope knew the man from prior cases. He was like a dog after a bone when it came to organized crime.
Callie wasn’t entirely prepared for that line of questioning, but she remembered something that Hem had said. “Look at his belt buckle.”
Detective Jordan nodded. “That’s the logo for a South American cartel. He’s not a biker.”
Callie smiled at Perkins.
“If we can tie the biker gang to this cartel guy, we can take them all down under RICO. The Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act was mainly for big-time gangsters a la Al Capone. Perkins had a boner for what he perceived to be gangsters, and that included biker gangs and street gangs. As far as she knew, he’d never cracked any major crime syndicates but was probably looking for that one case that would elevate him in notoriety other than the notoriety of being a know-it-all asshole.
If he wanted to make a name for himself, he’d do better in Chicago or New York, where high profile organized crime was going on via the Russians and Italians, respectively. Dallas wasn’t known for its high concentration of mafias.
“I don’t know that this would rise to the level of RICO.” Calliope fanned through the stack of papers Perkins had slid across the table to her. “This is just street gang shit.”
“You have personal knowledge of these guys?” Perkins asked.
“No, but I’ve been investigating them since I found the video. My eye was toward sex crimes, though, not organized crime.”
“If they’re partaking in human trafficking, that would fall under organized crime, ergo RICO.”
“Okay. I understand where you’re going with that, but I haven’t found anything yet, so don’t jump the gun.”
Perkins lifted his chin and pushed a few strands of short hair to the side. He glared at her. “Don’t tell me how to do my job. I outrank you in this investigation.”
Detective Jordan rolled his eyes.
Calliope took a deep breath to keep from unleashing a barrage of insults cops reserved for the black suits who never got their hands dirty in the trenches but carried an air of superiority whenever they worked together.
“I’m not telling you how to do your job. I’m suggesting we dig deeper before calling this something it isn’t.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I have a contact in the motorcycle club.”
Perkins’s eyebrows raised at that. “Who is it?”
“It’s a CI. I’m not throwing him under the bus. But I can dig around and see what I can uncover.”
“Okay. You have seventy-two hours.”
“Come on, Perkins. We both know I’m going to need a little more time than that.”
“Fine. I’ll give you a week. You already have an in. Utilize it. Then I want a status update, and we’ll go from there.”
“Okay.”
He pushed a blown-up picture of the guy in the video standing near the Knights of War vest hanging off a chair. “Find this suspect.” On that, they agreed. She wanted to see that piece of shit behind bars as much as Perkins did. Calliope just hoped it wouldn’t reveal some truths she didn’t want to know.
“If I’m not careful, I’ll end up answering the god damned crime-stopper line,” she whispered under her breath while she headed back toward the elevators.
Chapter Thirteen
Hem
“Maybe you should stay here until I get back. Holly stays at the club when Hunter is gone. He feels better about her not being alone.”
“Hem, I’m a cop. I carry a gun and handcuffs. I’m trained in weaponless defense. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’re more than capable of handling your business. I’m just worried that your involvement with me could put you at a bigger risk than usual.”
“Nobody outside of the club knows about us, and I’m more worried that I’ll end up answering the Crime-Stopper line at work than I’m worried about someone trying to hurt me to get to you. I have plenty of enemies all on my own. But if the PD gets wind of this thing with us, I could get in trouble.”
“What you do on your own time shouldn’t matter.”
“Technically, that’s true. But your club may have direct involvement in this case. So, I need to keep a low profile until it’s resolved, and we clear the MC.”
“You sound sure that that’s going to happen.”
“Aren’t you? I don’t know why that vest is in that picture, but I don’t think it’s representative of this club. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
He put his arm around her. “I’m not the saint you think I am, Callie.”
“I know you’re not a saint. But I also know you have honor.”
“I do shit that I could never tell you about.”
“Same goes, Hem. There are things I can’t tell you about. Different worlds, same kind of rules. The PD is my gang.”
“Point taken.” He kissed her cheek.
“I’ll check in with Holly. She asked me to go to lunch with her tomorrow.”
“You can check in with me, too if you want to.”
“Of course, I do.” She looked at her watch. “Hey, I gotta go. I have a meeting in half an hour. Be careful and call me when you can.” She squeezed his hand and walked out.
Hem stood and stretched before fetching his laptop from behind the bar. He fired it up and punched in his password protocol. Hunter and Maddox should be along shortly. Then they’d grab Plato and hit the road for El Paso.
The club had replaced one of the vans they’d lost last year after a Russian mob ambush that killed one of their members. Hem and Hunter had settled that score quietly.
He made a pot of coffee and checked his email. His brother came stumbling out of one of the back bedrooms in the club. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d had a long night.
“Jesus, Kol. You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.”
He laughed. “That’s not too far off.”
“Is Brenda back there?” Hem whispered.
“No, man. She was, though. She left about two this morning.”
“And she’s not looking for anything serious?” Hem was still floored that Holly’s mom was screwing his little brother.
“Nope. She just wants a good time when she’s in town. I’m cool with being her boy toy.”
“Boy toy?” Hem shook his head. “Get over here and have some coffee. You need to brush your hair too.”
Kol touched the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ll do that after I wake up.”
Hem poured him a mug of coffee and slid it across the bar. “The cream is in the kitchen.”
“I think I need it black today.”
Hem smirked. “I bet you do.”
“What’s up? Why are you here so early?”
“Making a run to El Paso today.”
“Is that today? Need me to ride along?”
“I think we’re good. As long as Plato doesn’t bitch out. He’s supposed to go with me, Maddox, and Hunter.”
“All right. If he doesn’t go, I’ll tag along. No problem.”
“Thanks, bro.” Hem went back to working on his computer. There were some expenses he needed to reimburse Paul’s wife for. She easily spent nearly a grand every month, buying supplies and groceries.
Also, Hem would pull some money out of petty cash for the El Paso run. They usually spent the night and paid cash for the hotel room. Calling it a hotel was being generous. They usually ended up in a roach motel with two rickety beds and a tiny bathroom. But they had to fly under the radar for those runs, so no credit cards and no fancy rooms. Then if Hem and Hunter dipped down into Mexico, they’d need a lit
tle extra cash in case they needed to pay off some Federales south of the border. Hem took out four hundred and tucked it into his wallet.
A motorcycle engine revved outside. Either Hunter or Maddox had arrived. The van was full of gas already, so as soon as everyone was present, they could take off. Hem closed his computer and refilled his coffee. He kept a packed overnight bag in the room he shared with Hunter in the back of the club. He’d go grab it before they left.
* * *
Hunter was behind the wheel for the first leg of their nine-hour drive to El Paso. An hour in, Plato was asleep on the floor of the van. He was working long hours to make enough money to take care of himself and help his mom out. He really needed the bonus they’d all get for pulling the run with the cartel.
“Hey, Maddox,” Hem said.
“Yeah, man?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Maddox tucked his phone into his pocket. “What’s up?”
“So, to make a long story short, one of our cuts has appeared in a video that shows a girl we think has been trafficked. You know Hunter and I went to Little Rock?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we met with the chapter there and found out that one of their members is missing. He took a quick trip to Mexico but never came back.”
“You guys think it’s his cut in the video?”
“We don’t know, but everyone else seems to be accounted for. And it’s not a cut from our chapter. It’s missing the location rockers on the back. It just has the logo in the middle.”
“This is not good.”
“Right? I saw the video and recognized the belt buckle of the guy. Colombian cartel insignia.”
“Wait. Where did you see this video? Who else has seen it?”
“You know my friend you met in the bar the other night?”
“The girl you were in the military with?”
“Yes. Calliope. Well, she’s a detective with Dallas PD, and that’s why she was at the bar the other night. She was giving me a head’s up that she’d found that video on a suspect’s computer.”
“Why did she come to you?”
“We have history, and she didn’t want my club to get blindsided. So, she said if we could find the guy and neutralize him before the investigators went balls to the wall on this case, she could hold them at bay from coming down on our club.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Have you told Paul?”
Hem shook his head. “I wanted to try to find out some more information first.”
Maddox pointed his index finger at Hem. “As soon as we get back, we take this to Paul. That should’ve been your first move.”
“I know, man. I’m just trying to protect my friend and my club.”
Hem understood Maddox’s reaction, and he was right.
“What do you hope to learn on your own with this?” Maddox asked.
“I was kind of hoping you could ask Mescalito’s man if he knows anything about our missing member. If he’s involved in trafficking kids, we need to handle it before the police come knocking, and this shit head takes us all down with him.”
“Okay. Okay. What if they don’t have any information? What then?”
“Then Hunter and I will take a short trip south of the border to try to find him.”
“No. That’s a bad idea, Hem.”
“There’s something else. There was a dog in the photo. And the suspect whose computer this video was on, he’s been adopting multiple dogs. We can’t figure out that angle.”
“I don’t know about that. We do need to find this missing member or at least find out what happened to him before we’re caught up in some big ass investigation. But going down into Mexico is a big risk. The border is more secure than ever.”
“We’re not going to take any drugs across the border. Hunter and I shouldn’t have a problem going in or getting back out.”
“Unless you guys get caught up in some shit down there. You’re talking about snooping around in cartel territory. Let me speak with Castillo first. Maybe he can provide some insight for us without the necessity of you two bozos ending up in a Mexican jail.”
“Okay. All right. Thanks, Maddox.”
“Don’t thank me yet, knucklehead.”
“I mean, you’d come break us out, right?”
“Ha. Don’t end up in jail, so we never have to find out what that episode of Prison Break looks like.”
“Fair enough.”
Hunter had stayed silent during the conversation. Hem understood why. He was being chastised along with Hem for keeping this info a secret from the club. That shouldn’t happen. But he needed to keep Callie out of it initially. Especially until after they met with the cartel.
After the men checked into the motel, Maddox got behind the wheel to drive them down to the pick-up location. The cabin was situated away from the city and had an electric wrought iron gate to secure the private road.
“Look alive, men.” Maddox rolled down the window and hit the buzzer.
“Yeah?” the voice in the box answered.
“I’m here to look at the cattle.” Everything that went over any kind of electronic device was communicated in code. The only real talk took place face-to-face.
The gate swung open slowly, and a black truck pulled up. The man behind the wheel wore a big, brown cowboy hat. He waved at Maddox and then made a quick U-turn. The van followed a car-length behind the cartel rig. Maddox parked the van next to a white Cadillac Escalade that likely held the cargo they’d come to retrieve.
Two men stood guard on the porch. Each carried an AK-47 with additional magazines strapped to their belts. They weren’t wearing the usual cowboy attire that the cartel men usually donned. These two were dressed in all black and wore black sunglasses even though it was dusk. A man pushed open the door and stepped out. He smiled, and the porchlight glinted off a gold tooth.
The heels of his boots clicked on the wooden stairs as he made his way to shake hands with the VP of the Knights of War. Rogelio Castillo had the physique of a man well-fed. He was on the heavy side, but he carried it well so that he looked more stocky than fat. The man was as solid as a brick wall.
Hunter stood by the back doors of the van. Hem was alert on the opposite side of the van doors. Plato kept his eyes peeled toward the road. The cartel leader walked to the back of the van, and Maddox nodded.
Hunter pulled open the doors to show the van was empty save for a couple of AR-15s. The cowboy then waved another man over who opened the back of the Escalade. Two other men grabbed three duffel bags from the back of the Escalade and deposited them into the back of the van. Hunter unzipped the bags to take a peek. Two held blow, and one held cash. In a show of trust, he didn’t count any of the money or bricks of drugs. They’d been doing these runs for over a year, and neither side had faltered in their responsibilities. Counting money and bricks could wait until they got back to the hotel.
“Listen, man,” Maddox began. “One of our chapters has a missing man. Word is that he went down into Sonora and just disappeared. You guys hear anything about one of ours going missing down that way?”
The man’s eyebrows raised. “Why don’t you all come inside for a drink, and we can talk.”
Maddox glanced at Hunter. “Leave Plato out here to watch the vehicles.”
“I’ll leave one of my men out here too,” Castillo said.
“Sounds good,” Maddox said.
They’d never been invited inside the cabin, and it made Hem a little nervous. They were all on high alert. There was trust between the two factions, but it wasn’t unconditional. Shit could go south at the drop of a hat.
Inside, the cabin was surprisingly nice. High-end leather couches were situated in front of a stone fireplace. The floors were glossy dark wood.
A tall table held a crystal decanter with matching glasses. Castillo poured out four drinks. He kept one and passed the others to Hem, Hunter, and Maddox.
“So, this missing man, he was in Mexico about ten days
ago?”
Hunter nodded. “About that, yes.”
“He’s dead,” Castillo said without any emotion.
“Your people killed him?” Maddox asked.
“Nah. We had no beef with him. But he was trying to broker a deal with Restrepo. Not sure how he fucked up, but they iced that fool. Word spread pretty quickly. I didn’t know he was one of yours. Just that they had offed a biker.”
Hem’s ears perked up. He’d noticed the Restrepo belt buckle on the dude in Callie’s video.
Castillo took off his hat and placed it on the table. His shiny black hair was combed back away from his face with a little too much gel or pomade or something. A thick gold chain hung around his neck, and a matching bracelet was wrapped around his wrist. It was no secret that the cartel probably had more money than the Queen of England.
“That chapter isn’t authorized to make any deals with the cartels, you know we only deal with Mescalito,” Maddox said. “Stupid motherfucker.”
“I wasn’t worried. I know your club stays in your lane.”
Hem resented that insinuation that the Knights of War were the cartel’s bitch.
“So, Restrepo, they’re into human trafficking? I’m trying to figure out what this idiot was trying to get in on behind our back.”
“Restrepo has their hand in everything. They traffic drugs, girls, guns, anything they can make money on. There’s no honor in that crew. Nothing is off-limits.”
“Maybe he was trying to get in with the drug trade with the Colombians,” Hunter offered.
Castillo shook his head. “Probably not. Those pendejos use dogs to traffic their drugs, not white boys. They use mules to traffic the rest.”
“What do you mean they use dogs to traffic drugs?” Hem asked.
“Yeah, so they get dogs and starve them. Then they feed them balloons of coke and heroin. Nobody stops a dog at the border or checks them for dope. Sometimes, they just run the dogs across alone, and someone waits on the US side to intercept the animal. Then they wait until the dog craps, and some poor asshole has to dig through it to get their drugs. Nasty fucking shit.”
