“Okay Officer Moore, can you give me directions?”
I ran to the kitchen to find a spare pen and blank piece of paper. Moore rattled off the cross streets. “Be there in twenty,” I told him, ending the call.
I rushed to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom and began putting them back on. I had no time to sort through moving boxes to find a fresh outfit. I brushed my hair and grabbed my holster and gun on the way out. Ariel meowed at me as I closed the door. “Be back soon, kitty cat.”
I arrived at the junkyard and an officer lifted the caution tape as I ducked through. The sun was barely creeping up and the birds were already singing. I found Officer Moore pacing back and forth around the body. Before I could get there, Officer Johnson surprised me. What the fuck was he doing here?
“Can I talk to you for a moment, Sheriff?” His demeanor had changed, his shoulders slouched and head down.
I walked off to the side with him, still fascinated by Officer Moore's pacing. “Are you ready to come back, Johnson?”
He nodded. “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I was totally out of line. It's just that Sheriff Mendoza was a mentor to me and to have somebody else filling his shoes...”
I put my hand up for him to stop. “It's fine, Johnson. You can get your badge and gun when we get back to the station. For now, help us out with this body.”
We walked over to Moore who stopped pacing and cleaned his glasses. “Were the directions okay, Sheriff?”
“What do we have here?” I asked him.
Moore put his glasses back on and bent down over the body. “Older male in his early fifty's. One single shot to the neck.”
I recognized him immediately. It was Garcia who I only met a few days ago. Now here he was, dried blood caked all over him and two gold coins over his eyes. What happened here? I stepped away from the body and strolled around the crime scene.
A pair of boot prints were stuck in the blood but I knew that would only be a needle in a haystack. A large caliber bullet was found near the head of Garcia. Looked to be from a sniper rifle. I positioned myself where Garcia was most likely to be standing when he was shot. I peered straight ahead and up. An office building about two hundred yards away had the perfect vantage point.
“I want a team on the roof of that office building over there,” I announced. Nobody moved for a moment until Johnson pointed to two officers and they left the junkyard.
I went back to the dead body, running through all the possible scenarios in my head. It had to of been the Rabid Dog MC. A single sniper shot during a meeting but how did they get away without more dead bodies?
I pointed to the stack of cars. “There might be more dead bodies here. Make sure to check out all the cars before we leave. Also get a statement from the owner of the junkyard.
Johnson nodded and threw out some orders to a guy standing by the caution tape. Maybe he was going to be more helpful than I thought?
“What are the gold coins for?” I asked, pointing at Garcia's one eye. “Does the Rabid Dog MC do this to their enemies?”
Moore looked dumbfounded. Johnson spoke up, “The Death Merchants do it to fallen brothers.”
That didn't make any sense. “But what reason did they have to kill their leader?”
Johnson shook his head. “They didn't kill him. Somebody else did and the Mexicans left the body for us with the gold coins in his eyes.”
I still had a lot to learn about the gangs in this town. “So instead of taking the body and burying it themselves, they wanted us to find the killer?”
Johnson picked at his ear. “I've seen it a few times before. It's a way for them to put the heat on their enemy.”
I circled around the body, looking for anymore clues. “Wouldn't they want their enemy dead? Why get them arrested?”
“Sacks County Prison is the best place to kill somebody. Confined area with loads of lifers who are ready to commit another murder for the cause.”
These MC's were smarter than I thought. I expected some low-level gang shit but not intricate plans. I was used to gangs shooting at each other until they ran out of bullets.
“The only one who could have done this was Sawyer Taylor,” I announced.
“He's the...uh...new president of the Rabid Dog MC,” Moore chimed in.
“Want us to pick him up and bring him to the station?” Johnson asked.
I shook my head. “No, I'll take care of it myself.”
Johnson and Moore left me alone with the body. I kneeled down and stared at him for awhile. I knew that I wouldn't be able to pin the crime on Sawyer Taylor so bringing him in would do nothing. He wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. But maybe the team on the roof would find something? Get me the true killer.
Chapter Nine
Sawyer
Garcia had been dead almost twenty hours and so far no blow back from the Mexicans. But I knew their plan: wait until our guard was down. It's exactly what I would do. Vengeance only clouds your judgment. So it was time to put the next part of my plan into effect.
The nightclub Diamonds was empty save for one black girl dancing around a pole on the stage. Her tits were gigantic and fake, just begging to be licked and sucked. A big black bouncer frisked us before letting us in. We already knew not to come armed. That was the only way Byron would see us.
Leland, Big Mike, and I walked through the club, staring at the chick dancing. She shoved the pole in her cleavage and rubbed her breasts up and down, curling her finger at Big Mike to come over. “You big enough to handle all this?” she asked, pushing her tits together.
Big Mike nodded with a blank stare. Leland pulled him away. “Holy shit, Mike, didn't you get enough from the sluts we got you last night?”
“Big Mike always has room for more,” he replied.
I couldn't help but chuckle as we made our way to the back of the club. Four black guys with assault rifles stood on the second floor, looking down on us. Byron and two of his associates were sitting in a dark booth. One of the associates stood up and frisked us again.
“They're cool, Wayne, leave them alone,” Byron lit a cigarette between his fingers. “Take a seat gentleman.” Byron was a small guy and about the same age as Cole. His head had a little bit of black hair left and a long scar ran down his left eye. Cole and him used to be big rivals in the 80's until they finally came to a peace agreement that's been in effect ever since. “I was sad to hear about Cole retiring, but congratulations to you, Sawyer.”
I nodded. A black woman wearing only a bra and thong came around with drinks and passed each of us a shot of whiskey. Big Mike got a long look at her before she left. There was no way Mike was going to leave here without getting some black ass.
Byron lifted his glass. “Let me propose a toast, to the continued alliance.”
I raised my glass and clinked it against the others before knocking it back. The warm liquor was exactly what I needed. I relaxed in my seat as my heart rate slowed.
“What can I do for you guys?” Byron asked, taking a drag on his cigarette.
I smiled and leaned forward. “We took out Garcia yesterday.” I collapsed back in my seat and admired the shocked look on Byron's face.
“We're talking about the leader of The Death Merchants right?”
I nodded. “The one and only.”
“Yo bitch, get these men another round of drinks.” Byron started clapping. “I'd kiss you right now if you were sitting a little closer, Sawyer.”
“Then I should stay where I'm seated.”
Byron snuffed out the cigarette on the table. Big Mike had turned his attention back to the stripper on the stage. “So let me guess. You took out the leader and now you want my MC to go in and pick up the pieces.”
“That sounds about right. The Mexicans will be running around with their heads cut off. Like shooting fish in a barrel. You finish off The Death Merchants and we split their territory fifty-fifty.”
The waitress came back aro
und and set down a tray of short glasses filled to the brim with whiskey. Byron took a sip and set the glass back down. “Why didn't you tell me about this plan sooner?”
“When the new sheriff called me in to see her a few days ago, I knew I needed to speed up my timeline.”
Byron downed his entire glass of whiskey in one gulp. He wiped his mouth and smacked his lips. “Yeah we can take care of the Mexicans. We might need some more firepower.”
“And you'll get whatever you need. The Rabid Dog MC is here to help.”
“Then I have a lot of work to do.” Byron stood up and we followed him out of the booth. He grabbed my hand and pulled me in for hug, slapping my back hard. “You're a crazy motherfucker, Sawyer.”
“We'll talk soon, Byron.”
Leland and I walked towards the exit and Big Mike got lost near the stage. “Oh Byron, is it okay if one of my men stays behind,” I called out to him.
“He can have all the black pussy he desires,” Byron yelled.
Big Mike jumped onto the stage and buried his face in the stripper's chest. That man must be a sex machine.
Leland opened the door for me and I shielded the sun from my eyes before putting on a pair of Ray-Bans. I swung my leg over my Harley 750 and put my helmet on.
“You think the Blacks can really take out the rest of the Mexicans?” Leland asked.
I shrugged. “Not sure. But it's a win-win for us either way. When the smoke clears after their bloody war, we can ally with whoever is left.”
Leland grinned and started his bike. “Sounds like a smart plan, Boss.”
So far things had gone my way but there were so many cogs working that it was hard to see the entire picture. We rode back to the clubhouse and I settled in the gym. Pumping iron was the only way to keep my mind off things.
If I thought about the future of the MC anymore, I'd explode. I lay back on the bench press and lifted the bar weighing two-hundred pounds. My muscles ached as I pumped the weights up and down. Sweat pooled on my forehead and chest as I strained with every rep. The pain was the only thing keeping my head clear. The Rabid Dog MC needed a strong leader but more importantly, a leader who could keep them alive.
I groaned as I set the heavy bar down. My heart pumped hard and I wiped the sweat from my brow. Time to go to work.
Chapter Ten
Charlotte
I spent the night thinking about how I was going to arrest Sawyer and make it stick. All I had was a hunch—no, more than a hunch, an educated guess that Sawyer's crew did the crime. But how could I pin it on the President?
Ariel purred next to me, rolled over and stretched out. I rubbed her belly and she closed her eyes. “What do you think I should do, kitty?” Ariel twitched as she began to dream. Probably about hunting mice. “A lot of help you are.”
The officers on the roof across from the junkyard found a discarded cigarette with a partial thumb print. I was still waiting back from the lab to see if they found a match. No way it would be Sawyer, he'd get one of his men to pull the trigger. But it would be a start. Maybe get the shooter to roll over on Sawyer?
The next morning I knew what my mission was. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and dressed in beige slacks and a light blue button-up. I pulled my hair back and put it in a ponytail. I made sure my pistol was loaded and holstered it on my hip. Small chance I'd have to use it but better safe than sorry. I scratched Ariel under the chin and said my goodbyes.
I dropped by the police station and took a squad car. If I was going to arrest Sawyer, then it needed to be official. Johnson tried to convince me let him come along. “For your protection,” he said. I told him I was a big girl and could take care of myself. I drove over to the Rabid Dog abandoned warehouse. Nothing screamed criminal more than an abandoned warehouse. A line of Harleys were lined up outside confirming that I had the right place.
I sat in the car, both hands on the steering wheel, surveying the surroundings. Rabid Dog members went about their business, ignoring the obvious cop in their midst. They were used to this. I flipped over the sun visor and checked my makeup. “You can do this, White,” I said aloud. “No fear.”
I stepped out of my vehicle and walked over to the entrance, a hesitant hand on my holstered weapon. Nobody was going to surprise me today. A few members were crouched next to their bikes with tools littered all over the ground. I entered the warehouse and was transported to a nice-looking bar with pool tables. It was ten in the morning and the place was packed. Every barstool was taken and the pool tables were full of activity. “Enter the Sandman” by Metallica was blasting through the speakers.
“Eight ball, corner pocket,” a very tall and large man said. I recognized his face from the Rabid Dog file. He was Big Mike, the Sgt-at-Arms.
“You don't have the balls to make that shot,” another man with shaved hair replied. That was Leland, the Vice-President to Sawyer.
I watched for a moment as Big Mike bent over, pulled back the cue, and sent the ball flying. The white ball rolled to the corner and lightly tapped the eight ball, knocking it into the corner pocket. The large man stood up and grinned. “You owe me a drink.”
Leland nodded and conceded, walking over to the bar. I approached Big Mike and asked, “Excuse me, I'm looking for Sawyer.”
“Good morning, Officer,” he said, polishing the tip of the cue.
“Actually it's Sheriff.”
His eyebrows raised as he looked me up and down. “Well you sit tight, Sheriff, while I get the boss.”
I walked around the bar and everyone ignored me or they were too drunk to notice. Did they really do this everyday? A an older woman with sleeves of tattoos was behind the bar slinging the drinks. She stood out as the only woman from the Rabid Dog file: Claire, the den mother. She had such a sordid past that I couldn't read it all.
Sawyer came out from a back room. He bit his bottom lip as he checked me out from head to toe. “Nice to see you again, Sheriff.”
I rolled my eyes. All men were the same. “Sawyer, can we talk somewhere private.”
He bowed before me. “Of course, your Highness.” I followed Sawyer into a meeting room with a large wooden table in the center. A large Rabid Dog spider was carved into the middle. These guys went all out with the theme. A row of picture frames of Rabid Dog members were hung on the far wall.
“What are these?” I asked, “Rabid Dog members of the month?”
Sawyer shook his head. “Brothers we've lost.”
Oh shit! How could I be so stupid? “I'm sorry, Sawyer. I shouldn't have asked.”
Sawyer went to the last picture frame in the row. A man with glasses stared back at me. “Issac died last year.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them against the photo. Did this outlaw have a heart? Sawyer glanced at me with dark eyes. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
I almost forgot the reason for coming here. I planted my feet on the ground and steeled myself. “I need to speak to you about the murder of Garcia of The Death Merchants.
Sawyer motioned for me to sit down at the table and he took the chair next to me. “Yeah I heard about him. Shame for the Mexicans. They're whole organization is probably in disarray.”
“Don't play games with me, Sawyer. It doesn't take a NASA scientist to figure out that the Rabid Dog MC was behind it.”
Sawyer put his hand on his chest like he was hurt from a knife to the heart. “I'm offended that you would even come to such a conclusion. The Rabid Dog MC is here to help the community. I'll confess that we had a beef with the Mexicans but we settled it. We didn't have a reason to kill Garcia.”
This man wasn't very good at lying. He'd need more practice if he was going to stay the President. “Answer me this, where were you two nights ago?”
“At the Stinky Goat with the rest of the crew. We were there until the crack of dawn, drinking and fucking.” Sawyer leaned towards me, his eyes gazing into my soul. I inched away until I was on the edge of my seat.
I gulped. “Can anyone confirm your w
hereabouts?”
Sawyer smiled. “Of course, you can ask any of those guys out there. They were with me all night.”
I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. They would all corroborate his story. I'd have to go to the bar and find someone who wasn't in deep with the Rabid Dog MC. Probably not going to work but worth a try.
Sawyer grabbed my hand and pulled it away from my face. A jolt of electricity shocked me. My heart spiked and I opened my eyes to find Sawyer only inches away from my face. His manly scent was stirring a desire deep down in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes again and parted my lips.
Cole: A Bad Boy Romance Page 12
