Getting back into his truck, he took off his hat and drank a whole bottle of water in one go while turning on the air-conditioning. It was close to a hundred degrees out there now, and he made sure that he wasn’t suffering from any aspect of heatstroke before he started back down the trail. Blurred vision on these trails could mean a stranded truck.
Once he was back on Interstate 8 heading west, he opened the truck up and pressed the gas on the straight, empty blacktop. He reached 200mph much faster than he expected and there was still room to climb, but he backed down. It was a very well-built hot rod truck. Even with the new paint job and normal tires, though, it continued to remind him of the night he nearly lost Cyn to the animal mentality he was currently working against.
Back in El Cajon, he entered the hotel room he rented for a shower and shave. After putting on his black suit (one of eight now hanging in his hacienda room’s closet), he packed up his work clothes and left the room. By five o’clock, he was back in his room at the hacienda.
While making notes of his observations that day, his cellphone rang. It was Orlin.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Are you on the grounds?” Orlin asked.
“For perhaps another couple of hours, then I have plans. What can I do for you?”
“Yes, I know it is your day off, but it would be very beneficial if you could join a meeting in my office area.”
“On my way,” he said, and turned off his laptop, turning on the security encryption feature.
Entering the room, he saw there was a man in one of the visitor chairs in front of the desk. One security man was at the entry door with the door open, and another inside the room close to the patio doors, which were also open.
Two thoughts pounded into Hank’s brain as he studied the man sitting in front of the desk while he approached him. The first was that he didn’t like Orlin very much — in fact, he was quite hostile. And the second was: He’s a cop. Probably DEA. Hank continued to examine the man as he passed him to stand beside Orlin.
“Hank,” Orlin said, “This is Brian, Brian Fowles.”
Hank nodded his head. “Coming up on ten years soon, aren’t you? Has the DEA changed much?”
The man was noticeably stunned, and Orlin was beside himself with laughter. “Pay up,” Orlin laughed.
Brian Fowles, or perhaps Agent Fowles would be more appropriate, pulled out a twenty from his pocket and put it on the desk with a slap.
Orlin snatched it up and kissed the bill. “I love winning bets.”
“Was that all you needed me for?” Hank asked Orlin.
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t interrupt your personal time with that. We made this bet on your way here. Fowles is very proud of his undercover abilities. But anyway, he had begun to tell me information he has on Cuarto Rivera when I stopped him and called you.”
“I understand,” Hank told him. He leaned back against the wall behind him, ready to listen.
“Please continue, Fowles,” Orlin urged.
“Recently,” Fowles said, “Rivera purchased a large amount of weapons. We expected them to go to his hacienda, but they didn’t. They crossed the border and then disappeared.”
“They disappeared while you were watching them?” Orlin marveled.
Fowles looked a little uncomfortable. “Yes.”
Orlin processed this. “Go on, please.”
“Well, Rivera doesn’t have a hacienda on this side of the border and never has, though he has talked several times about advancing into the US. This shipment wasn’t a shipment that would be for sale in the US, except to a paramilitary group about to declare war on the state they were living in.”
Fowles looked a little uncomfortable again. “We also recorded a conversation, which was at first a little strange to us before this weapons shipment came in to focus. The conversation was between him and his eldest granddaughter, Sibel. She’s what now — seventeen, I believe? Anyway, she is telling Cuarto that she wants to get married. He’s telling her that isn’t going to happen. She cries and says that she forgave the man a long time ago, after she spoke to the nuns. He tells her that she’s not going to marry a rapist, no matter how many baubles he sends her, and basically ends the conversation with her running from the room in tears.”
Fowles added, “It is soon after that when Cuarto says, ‘I’ll kill that fucking Orlin.’”
Orlin looked up to Hank. “Baubles? What is baubles?”
“Cheap costume jewelry and showy tourist silver,” Hank replied.
Orlin was instantly offended. “I didn’t send her baubles! What is this? I sent her a necklace worth $50k! US!”
“Did you also send a card?” Hank asked.
“Card? It was a diamond necklace!”
“You should always send a card with a gift. Women like that. They’ll keep the card and cherish it much longer than the jewelry.”
“True?”
“Oh, yes. Something with a little poetry inside, and always use a pen with your own handwriting. Trust me, they memorize—”
Fowles interjected with, “Gentlemen? I think you are missing the bigger picture. The guns?”
Orlin looked across his shoulder at him. “Guns? No, those guns are broken up and shipped all over the continent by now. Being sold on some street corner in a barrio near you.”
Fowles turned a little red. “Look, I’m very good at my job—”
“You think you are very good at your job,” Orlin interrupted. “Which is good. You should have pride in your abilities, but you also think you are good at undercover and Hank spotted you coming in the room. I could see it on his face. Thank you for this other information, though, because it is very important to me. Far more important than a few guns crossing the border. Your payment should be ready on the table beside the door as usual.”
“Fine,” Fowles said, leaving the room in a hurry.
They watch the DEA Agent leave, and Hank walked slowly back around the desk in deep thought. “There are two other cartels in this area that he could be after.”
“Either of those rape his sixteen-year-old granddaughter?
“No.”
“No, Hank.” Orlin sighed and stretched out his arms and back. “He’s going to come for me. This marriage thing has somehow backfired. I was worried about her rejection, not his. I can’t quite get myself to believe that after all the work and effort and planning it took to get me to this point, I may lose it all because of one mistake. An honest mistake, as well. There was no reason for her to be near my bedroom area where the entertainment girls were.” Then he shook his head. “No, that doesn’t matter. It certainly wouldn’t matter to me if I was the father, or the grandfather.”
“Wish we knew more of an exact location,” complained Hank.
“Oh, pardon,” Orlin said. “He gave me that before I stopped him and called you. The crossing was over close to Juarez country. Here’s the map Fowles supplied.”
“Do you believe that he’ll actually make an assault on the hacienda? SWAT, DEA, FBI — hell, the damn military will be on his ass if he brings in the amount of men those munitions suggest he’s gathering.”
Orlin sighed. “That’s the way they do it in Mexico. They pay the local cops to be somewhere else and then attack with numbers and fire power, using explosives to blow the gates, then storm the house and slaughter everyone inside.”
“Of course,” Hank said, “you and your son, as well as much of the staff, will be at your La Jolla house, or perhaps the Carlsbad estate. The longer Rivera is here, the more likely the authorities are going to catch up with him. Fowles and every other DEA agent knows those weapons are coming to San Diego.”
Drumming his fingers on the desk, Orlin said. “That is true, very true, and once he makes an assault, they’ll be all over him. This is not Mexico. But since he will obviously have eyes and ears in my staff somewhere — at least one of my guards — I’ll need to move Juan with some clandestine efforts. The staff, si, to La Jolla, with most of th
e guard. We’ll keep a skeleton crew here with orders to run like hell at the first sign of trouble. Juan, however, will need some thought.”
“I could take him to my place. No one here knows where that is. Just put him in the truck and tell him he’s visiting with me for a week. Shouldn’t be much longer than that. Time is not on Rivera’s side.”
Orlin stopped drumming his fingers and studied Hank closely. “Still, that is a risk, especially for you.”
“Living is a risk,” Hank told him.
“Well, that’s true as well. The offer is very tempting, because like you say, your personal life is not scrutinized like mine is. I could do the same with Maria as well. This is a good option, thank you, Hank. My mind was building up much more complicated scenarios of getting Juan into a safe harbor. Simpler is better.”
“And you?” Hank asked.
“Me?” Orlin smiled and reaches for a large black velvet sack. He shook the sack and the objects inside bounced around. Then he reached in and pulled out what looks like a bingo ball with the number 8 on it. “I will be getting ready for a drop at Airstrip 8, and as soon as that happens, which is this Thursday, I’ll be going into hiding as well. I definitely want you at this drop. This is a very important one, and must be handled with extreme professionalism.”
“Same time frames?” Hank asked.
“What? No spiel about me not going there, that it is too much of a risk for me to take?”
Hank said with very little enthusiasm, “No, no, don’t go, stop.”
“That’s better.” Orlin smiled. “Yes, we’ll begin arriving at the airstrip at eleven, and then expect the plane at close to midnight. Same cautions and precautions as always. Don’t mess with something that works.”
“Agreed,” Hank said as he watched Orlin place the bingo ball back into the sack and place the sack back on the shelf. “Don’t fix what isn’t broke. Will that be all? At least for now?”
“Si, yes, I’ve got a few more loose ends to tie up. But, one thing. How could you tell, from the doorway no less, that Fowles was a DEA man?”
“Handcuffs in his belt. So he was a cop of some sort. DEA made sense, that’s all. The ten years was based on his apparent age.”
“Handcuffs? How funny. I didn’t notice them.”
“When he was leaning forward in the chair, his shirt rose so that I could see them as I came in. He’s probably so used to them being back there, he forgot he was wearing them.”
“Always the little things, and so obvious they are passed over as unimportant,” Orlin mused. “So, si, off with you. I’ll see you Thursday morning?”
“Yes, say, nine?”
“Perfect.”
CHAPTER THREE
With one box on Daphne’s lap and the other between Cyn’s thighs, they rode together to the club. Coming in, they saw the club was filling up. It was Tuesday evening and the officer’s meeting was going to begin soon.
“Cyn? I’m really fucking scared right now,” Daphne whimpered as they climbed the stairs.
“So am I, baby. But I rode in with you, and I’m riding out with you. That much you can depend on,” Cyn promised, and the fierceness in her voice was a comfort to Daphne’s ears.
They reached the door with the sign reading “Management.” Since they were expected, they knocked and opened the door without waiting for a response.
Inside the room were Knight, Ben, Larry, James, Halo, and Gary. The men were standing around the room, leaving the two visitor chairs available. Cyn took the hint, and, after setting the boxes down by the door, she took Daphne’s hand and led her to the chairs. Daphne’s hand was shaking violently inside her own.
Before they sat down, she hugged Daphne and kissed her lips. “Remember what I told you. That’s the way of it.”
“Alright,” Daphne said, and she calmed down noticeably.
Knight gave them a welcoming smile, but there was concern in his eyes. “Just a moment, Daphne, and I’ll get Hank on the speaker phone for us.”
Hank came on the line. “Hello”
“Can you hear me alright?” Knight asked.
“Sounds good, and I’ve got about an hour, so take your time,” Hank told them.
Knight looked at Daphne. “Alright, Daphne, what is it you need to tell us?”
She began her story slowly, about coming home to find Derrick jacked up already on meth, and then led her listeners to the clearing. Cyn could feel the tension in the room growing. Knight was still as stone as he listened. Ben was, too. James shaded his eyes with his hand, and Cyn believed he had already figured out where this was going. She gripped Daphne’s hand more tightly, letting her know that she was still there. If it was her and Daphne against the world, then so be it.
Daphne told them that Derrick wanted to watch it all burn, that she told him that she loved him, and then shot him.
The room was dead silent. Cyn looked around, and the faces she saw were full of concern and support. Daphne was too afraid to look up. Her body was trembling in anticipation of banishment and punishment.
Knight broke the silence. “First off — and I know that I don’t have to say this to anyone in this room, so don’t take offense, but Daphne should hear it and know from my lips exactly where I stand on this. First off, this doesn’t leave this room. A breath of this, and the repercussions will be swift and extremely harsh. Our sister, using strength I’m not sure any of us possess and suffering pain of the deepest kind, saved our lives. I will not tolerate betrayal of her sacrifice.”
In unison, the men around the room said, “Here, here.”
Knight nodded at this expected response. “Second, the murder of Derrick will go unsolved. Hank? That means, unfortunately, that you are likely to continue receiving the unjust treatment you have been the target of these last few weeks.”
Hank’s voice was clear. “Like that is anything next to what Daphne has done for us. I accept that dark mile willingly, and I’ll ride it fearlessly.”
Daphne’s head rose as what she heard began to sink in.
Knight gave her a soft smile. “I take it that those are the boxes that Derrick was going to sell to Ernando — may that bastard’s soul rot in hell.”
Cyn said, “Yes. We decided that maybe you should have them, or burn them, or do what you think is best.”
Daphne’s voice broke with a painful whisper. “Am I still allowed to come here?”
James was the one who moved, and he moved swiftly, bending to his knee and pulling Daphne into a lover’s embrace. Then he kissed her and brushed back her hair. “Yes, Daphne. Yes. If you are not allowed here, then who could be?”
Daphne searched his eyes, kissed him back lightly, and then touched his hair. “Thank you, but I’m sort of riding with Boston now.”
Hank’s laugher was what set off the room in an explosion of tension release. James was the last to get it, but when he did, his smile was angelic. He took her hand and kissed it, and said with a mock pout, “I understand.” Then he stood and returned to his place against the wall.
“Daphne?” Knight began. “You have been through a lot, probably more than even you realize. Your sister Cyn has been helping you, I hear. But at some time in the future, this will come down on you, and with that in mind, I would like you to talk to a friend of mine. A very dear friend, who you can tell anything to, including this. Normally, she would have to report such a confession to the police, but she will not do so with you. I promise you this. She has helped me in the past, and I’m quite sure she will help me in the future. Will you go to her? I’ll make the appointment for you myself.”
Daphne looked to Cyn, who smiled. “I love you, but I’m not a counselor. I’ll take you, though. And be there to take you home after. Alright?”
“Alright,” Daphne said, and she looked to Knight. “Alright. For how long?”
“That’s up to you. It’s your dark road, but why make it harder? It’s hard enough already. A commitment of two months doesn’t seem like too much, does it?”
“Good, very good,” Knight told her, and then turned to Larry. “Where are we at with the legal system regarding Daphne?”
“From everything that I’ve heard, after her statement, she is not a person of interest. They are sure that this is a gang issue and that Derrick was executed either by us or a rival club. With the verification that Ernando was involved, this strengthened that theory to the point of fact. I don’t believe that Daphne has anything to worry about. If it ever does become an issue, or if they come sniffing around again, Daphne, you have my number.”
“Alright,” Daphne agreed, her voice still soft, even shy. She was not quite sure whether to believe it or not.
Outlaw's Wrath - An MC Brotherhood Romance Boxed Set Page 44
