Rip's Baby: Hounds of Hades MC

by Nicole Fox

  “Dunno,” I said. “Grandpa's got something to tell me, and he couldn't do it on the phone. And, he sounds pretty pissed, too.”

  “Great,” Jace said. Clearly, she didn't feel like getting yelled at today, either.

  I led her inside as we entered the house without knocking. “Grandpa?” I called out.

  “In the kitchen, Koen,” he shouted back, his voice just as angry as when we'd spoken on the phone earlier.

  Jace and I exchanged a glance, one that said she'd cover me if I wanted to make a run for it. I shook my head a little bit, frowned, and we headed into the kitchen to join Xavier.

  “Sit,” Xavier said as we entered the kitchen, his voice tightly wound. “Now.”

  We both silently took a seat, the stools scraping on the tile like wretched claws on a gravestone. All you could hear was the air-conditioning blowing in the other room, and the slight wobble of a ceiling fan as it shook in its mounting.

  “Got a call from someone I still knowing in the Bureau. There's footage of you at the Hilton the other night, the night Sven Morokov was shot to death. Front and center.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but he just hushed me like a child.

  “Don't you fucking say a word to me,” he said, his voice low and filled with unspoken threat, “unless it's to explain how in the goddamned fuck you got mixed up with the Wolf.”

  I sighed, my mind already trying to figure out a way to explain this and keep Jace's hands clean in the whole affair. There wasn't any sense in her getting yelled at, or worse, so much worse, over this whole thing. “Okay,” I started. “I was there, with Fed, that much is true. But it's not what you think.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jace

  I had to give credit where credit was due. Koen could hem and haw with the best of them.

  “And, yeah,” he said, “we were on that floor. But, I've never like, you know, gotten myself wrapped up in something with the Wolf. That guy sounds too intense for me-”

  I sighed loud enough to cut Koen off, then rolled my eyes. “Koen, stop fucking lying to your Pee-paw. He ain't gonna buy this shit.”

  “What?” Koen asked. “I'm just telling him-”

  “Look,” I said, rest a hand on his arm, “I appreciate it. I get what you're trying to do, what with keeping me out of this and all, but you need to tell him the truth.” My eyes swung back to Xavier Baldwin.

  “The truth?” Xavier asked, crossing his arms over that big, happy belly of his.

  “I killed Sven. Xavier, I was a prostitute, and Sven was my pimp. My brother Tomlin found me at the hotel somehow, showed up at my room. Sven found Tommy after I tried to hide him in the bathroom, and shot him. He dropped the gun, I picked it up and killed him with it.”

  Xavier appraised me and my words, slowly and carefully, taking the measure of what I was saying.

  “And no,” I said, beating him to the bunch, “I don't regret killing him. He would have killed me if I didn't get him first, especially after he found who Tomlin was.”

  Xavier's lips were pinched shut, tight. He sucked in a deep breath and puffed out his upper and bottom lips, the air escaping in a sputtering wheeze. “It was you then?” he asked, nodding as if I'd already answered him.

  “Yes,” I said. “It was self-defense, but I ran because I was scared. You're the first cop I ever met that I actually liked, Xavier. And when I ran, I bumped into your grandson out in the hallway, and he took me with him. That's how he got involved in this.”

  The old, retired FBI agent kept nodding as if all the bricks were falling into place on this big wall of a case. “Still doesn't explain why my grandson's been lying to me about leading his daddy's old MC. Does it, Koen?”

  Koen's face dropped and he sighed. “You know?”

  “Know what? That you ain't just a goddamned bartender at Hellfire? That you're running the whole show?” He leaned forward, his eyes drilling into Koen's face. “Yeah. I fucking know.”

  Koen sighed and looked away, his shoulders slumping a little bit under the admonishment. “Fine, yeah, you're right. Okay? I took over for Gator when he died.”

  Xavier shook his head at his grandson. “And, I know you actually are tied up with Volkov Arms, but that you've been ripping them off for guns. FBI suspects it, at least, but I know it's true. Ain't it?”

  Koen didn't say anything, just kept his stony silence.

  My chest tightened a little as I watched the exchange unfold.

  “Ain't it?” Xavier asked again, pressing him harder. More silence from Koen, and Xavier just sighed. “Well, since you ain't gonna deny it, guess I'll take it as truth then. I really wished you wouldn't follow after your father, Koen. Thought we'd done right by you, and got you raised right. Thought you knew no one ever got ahead by stealing from anyone.”

  Koen sighed and looked away. Silence settled in over the kitchen.

  I realized my shoulders were bunched up tight at the confrontation, my nerves wound and running thin.

  “But,” Xavier said after a while, “the same person who told me about the video, they're looking at the Wolf right now.”

  I perked up a little and leaned forward. “Looking at him?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

  The retired FBI agent turned his attention back to me. “They're trying to take Aleksey Volkov down, knock him down a few pegs and bring him up on charges. Like they should've back when he first came into the country. But they need some help.”

  “And?” Koen asked. “So what if they need help?”

  “Well, you seem like you're in a unique position, son, to help this Agent McKesson out. She needs someone to help nail this guy to the wall.”

  Koen barked out a dry laugh, clearly not amused by the whole situation, or his Grandpappy's idea about helping the FBI take Volkov down.

  I sure as hell was, though. I'd do anything if it meant getting close to the man and having my shot at him. Or, barring that, making sure he’d rot in a deep, dark hole somewhere.

  “Wait, lemme get this straight,” Koen said, shaking his head and grinning in disbelief. “You want me to willingly incriminate myself to the FBI? To go in and help them take this guy down?”

  “Son,” Xavier said, leaning back against the kitchen counter just like he had the last time we'd visited, “you're already on their radar as a person of interest. I told Agent McKesson I'd talk to you, give you a chance to cooperate.”

  “Or what?” Koen asked. He and I both knew there was always a consequence.

  “Or, they realize your connection to Fire and Brimstone and start investigating the whole thing,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Ain't much I can do about it. You blipped up on their radar, son, and you look like an easy shakedown.”

  Koen ground his teeth, his jaws working hard as his mouth clenched. “So, I'm fucked either way.”

  “You ain't fucked, son. You just gotta go along to get along.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, thought about it. I didn't know what the right choice was for Koen, but I knew what the right choice would be for me. I'd do anything I could to get close to Aleksey.

  Just so I could put a bullet between his eyes. FBI be damned.

  # # #

  Koen

  I called Fed and told him to meet me at the house just before I hopped on the bike to head home. Jace climbed up behind me, and we took off for my place.

  On the way there, I considered what my grandpa had told me. He'd known the whole time, and he knew what was going on inside my organization. I'd tried to keep it from him, but I guess I couldn't keep anything from the old man. He was good, even after he'd retired all those years ago.

  The question now was, did I want to cooperate with Agent McKesson, and the FBI? Snitches got stitches, that was the rule. There was no way I could turncoat like that, and start working for the government as an informant.

  Not only would it put me in danger, it would start raising questions about the whole club if it got out. That would put Fed, Happy, Slash, and
all the rest in the firing line. And then, on top of that, no one would ever do business with us again.

  But, if I didn't do anything, the Feds would come for me, and my crew. The moment they started poking around because of this Volkov Arms deal, they'd figure out just what kind of ant hill they'd kicked over. And then all the guys would be spending time in the pen. But, at least they'd be alive. That was something.

  As things were laid out, there was just too much damned risk no matter which way I turned. On the one hand, I risked death. On the other, prosecution. There just wasn't a clear way forward.

  Fed arrived at the house soon after me and Jace. He'd brought Benji along, despite her wounded shoulder. The four of us settled in around the dining room table, Jace at my side and Fed next to Benji.

  Jace grabbed us all some beers and we settled in for the big talk. I laid everything out for my buddy and our newest confidante. Both asked questions at various points, asking for elaboration on certain points here and there.

  Finally, my story was done, along with my first beer.

  The words that came out of Fed's mouth next made me want to grab another.

  “Koen,” he began, his eyes wide and fearful, “I got a confession to make, brother.”

  I groaned, not even wanting to consider what it was about. I hoped it was like weird porn fetishes or some shit. That I could deal with.

  “I didn't get the name Fed from being in the penitentiary like I tell everyone,” he said with a sigh. “Your grandfather put me here two years ago, when your daddy died and you took over. I'm actually an ex-agent, myself, one that was under deep cover.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, not believing him. “I mean, seriously, fuck you.”

  He sighed again and leaned back in his chair. “Xavier's a good man. He saved my sister's life one time, and he knew I owed him one. A real big one. So, he wanted me to watch your back. He knew you were going to take over for Gator after he passed, and he hoped I could keep you straight and on the right side of things.”

  “Fuck you,” I repeated, shaking my head. “Just . . . fuck you, man.”

  “Look,” he said, leaning across the table, “I might've come in here as a favor to Xavier, but I stayed because I love the club, man. I used to do real deep undercover shit with some really nasty people. I did and saw things, Koen. But, you guys at F&B, you ain't like those pieces of shit. You're all decent guys, and I wouldn't ever rat any of you.”

  Yep, needed another beer. I sighed and looked away.

  Jace just fucking laughed, earning a glare from me.

  Fed, though, kept pleading his case. “Man, I prospected the same as anyone else, same as you. I'm committed to the MC. I just happen to, you know, have a different past than I said.”

  I ground my teeth together. After all this shit was said and done, I was going to need to see a dentist.

  “This is just too goddamned rich,” Jace said before sucking down the last of her beer. She got up to grab another one. Clearly, she was enjoying this.

  “When have I ever given you cause to doubt me, Boss?” Fed asked.

  “Other than now?” I replied.

  “Yeah, I guess. Ain't I been there doing the same things as you? Look, I ain't on the job anymore. If the club goes down, I go down right beside you.”

  He did have a point on that. But, shit, that was a big set of lies he'd been feeding me. Just one more piece of bullshit after the other. I looked across the table at him, tried picturing him in a black suit and tie, but I couldn't do it. He just looked like Fed to me. Not, you know, a fed.

  “Fine,” I said. “Guess we all got a past.”

  Jace, who was just on her way back into the room with two beers in hand, had a good laugh at that one.

  Goddamn she was a thorn in my side, even if she was the most beautiful rose I'd ever seen.

  Shit, I'd even started to think like a romantic asshole. Fuck.

  “So, what do you think, then?” I asked Fed. “Since, you know the inner workings of this shit and all.”

  “I think we go for it,” Fed replied, slapping the table for emphasis. “I trust Xavier. He ain't steered me wrong. And, besides, Volkov was a prime target, but only when we could get away with it. Looks like our luck's running thin on that front. Sooner or later, we're gonna catch a bullet, or even worse.”

  “Worse than a bullet?” Benji asked, her high-pitched voice finally piping in. “I'd rather a bullet to the head than do time. Who's to say this McKesson bitch ain't gonna turn on us the moment we give them this Aleksey guy?”

  “I think,” Jace added in her two cents from beside me, “we listen to Koen on this. He's the Boss, right? And Benji and I are in the club now, right? What he says goes, far as I'm concerned.”

  Fed nodded along, agreeing with her. “She's right, Koen. It's your choice.”

  I chewed the inside of my mouth and sucked down another gulp of my fresh beer. Decisions, decisions, fucking decisions.

  Finally, though, the obvious choice stood out to me, presenting itself and spinning around just so it could sit in my lap.

  “Alright, we talk to this agent,” I said, raising my hand to plead to Benji for quiet. “Just talk for right now. Let's hear what she needs, and what she can give us in return. If it's just me, that's fine. But, I think this is a good opportunity, maybe the only one we'll ever have, to get on the right side of the law. Maybe we can even get out of this shit for good.”

  “For good?” Fed asked, his eyes brightening a little.

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding before I turned to Jace.

  She looked back at me, those beautiful brown eyes of hers drilling deep into my soul. I could see a life with her, maybe, some place out and away from the city. Just us, on some land, not having to knock over semi-trucks or sell guns to anyone just to make our daily bread.

  “This could be the chance we need,” I said. “All of us.”

  Goddamn, I thought. I was becoming some romantic asshole.

  What the fuck happened to me?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jace

  Koen and I were dressed to the nines for tonight. He'd taken me to an actual adult boutique this time, and slapped down a wad of cash to cover any expenses I'd had. Benji and I had a field day, and I can honestly say I'd never had a pair of heels this sexy, or comfortable. To go with them, I'd picked up a pretty white dress and a new purse. Hell, Benji had even helped me put my hair up for the night.

  Koen looked like he'd done a bit of shopping himself, or had at least dug to the back of his closet and found the sexiest suit I'd seen on a man in a while. It was tailored to him, slim but still showed off his impressive muscles in all the right places. He'd even shaved that perpetual five o'clock stubble from his face.

  It was hard to believe this time last night we'd been putting the final touches on a gun heist against a Russian crime lord.

  “Quit grinning so damned much at me,” he grunted as he swung open the door to the restaurant for me.

  “Why should I?” I asked, my tone playful and poking. “Don't you want Agent McKesson to think we're in love?”

  He just grumbled. “No, I want us to be believable.”

  I slipped an arm through his and leaned against his side a little, letting him escort me along. “And nice couples like us don't look at each other that way?”

  “Nope,” he said. “We're supposed to be simmering in mutual despair, angry that our love life died off years ago.”

  I snickered. “Well we're not playing at being married, are we?”

  “Suppose not,” he mumbled back. “But let's at least stop making it look like you've never seen me in a suit before, okay?”

  I laughed. “Fine, fine,” I said, faking a little pout.

  We headed into the restaurant's lounge and Koen scanned the bar for the agent.

  A young woman, maybe in her early thirties approached us. “Koen Baldwin?” she asked, hand extended as she looked us both up and down.

  She was pretty, if a littl
e severe, and had ashen blonde hair that was pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, the roots straining away from her face. Something about her just screamed tomboy, like she got up and ran ten miles every morning, and used the jog time to catch purse snatchers on her route. Her moves were all measured, tight, like she kept herself under constant surveillance, consistent care. She was tough, and she knew it, too.

  “Agent McKesson?” Koen replied, trying to keep his voice neutral and guarded.

  “Claire, please. I have a table near the back,” she said, jerking a thumb back over her shoulder. “It's a little more private than the bar.” And, with that, she turned on the heel of her no-bullshit business flats, and led the way to her back table.