Eye for an eye (The Nighthawks MC Book 5)

by Bella Knight

“I’m sorry,” said Henry. “I had my head up my ass.”

  “No,” said Callie, touching his hand. “You had a brain injury. And Inola’s recovery and pregnancy. We were kind of off your radar.”

  “Now Ace and Lily,” said Henry. “Will it ever stop?”

  “Yes,” said Callie. “My big, bad woman will make it stop.”

  “I hope so,” said Henry.

  “Me too,” said Callie. She gave him a hug.

  Grace ended up being in separation time for rudeness to her mother. She had to do her work by herself in a corner. Henry told her she’d lose project time if she kept it up. She wanted to work on the hydroponics, so Grace backed off. She did her Chinese, so she was allowed to move back to the other children. She tried to throw her box lunch, so she had to eat lunch alone.

  Nantan dragged her out of class and made her do her kickboxing moves before she was allowed to attend the hydroponics lesson. She was unrepentant, but she backed down when Callie informed her she wouldn’t be visiting Hu’s mother without a change in attitude.

  Callie survived the shift, even after Henry went home, partly because Hu’s mom came in to teach Chinese. Bao was delighted that she had been able to buy a nice used Honda, complete with child safety seats, with money left over for car insurance. She took the kids home, with the knowledge that Grace was on restriction. Grace was still mutinous, getting into Bao’s car.

  “You’re getting a younger brother and sister,” said Callie. “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it. Bao will give me a report. If your attitude doesn’t change, fast, we’ll have to have a longer discussion. You can act mean, but it won’t change anything. You’re still having siblings.”

  “I’m not mean,” said Grace, her lower lip stuck out.

  “You were even mean to Hu today,” said Callie. “You owe me an apology, and her, and Nantan.”

  Grace kept her lower lip stuck out. “Did not.”

  Callie said, “Get out of the car. You’re coming home with me. You pushed Hu twice, made Nantan stop his class because you were arguing, and you were just plain nasty to me.”

  “No!” said Grace, eyes wide. “Sorry!”

  “Nope,” said Callie, opening the door, and unplugging her from her car seat. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re jealous and angry, and those are big emotions. But, that doesn’t mean you get to take out your emotions on other people.” She took her arm and gently guided her out of the car.

  “Say goodbye to Hu. Let’s go.”

  “I’ll stop!” said Grace.

  “Yes, you will,” said Callie. “But you’re now on total restriction. Let’s go.” She guided her to her car, and put her into her car seat and plugged her in. She shut the door.

  Grace folded her arms over her chest and glared at her mother. “You’re mean!”

  Callie looked at her daughter in the rear-view mirror. “Look at your own behavior before you call other people mean.”

  She got home in just a few minutes, and Grace stomped in, went to the room she shared with Hu, and slammed the door, nearly in Daisy’s face.

  Callie opened the door and said, “You nearly hurt the dog, slamming the door in her face.” She took out all the electronics, leaving only books. Grace lay in her bed, staring at the wall. “Goodnight.” Grace ignored her.

  Callie called the dogs, sat on the couch, and loved on them. She showered, then changed into shorts and a tee.

  Ivy came home and Callie kissed her. “Our daughter just turned into a porcupine,” said Callie.

  “Why?” asked Ivy, passing over the strawberry shake she’d gotten from Sonic. She put the sack of food on the table.

  “Jealousy. She heard from a kid at school that babies take away the focus from older kids.”

  “It does,” said Ivy plainly, taking out the mozzarella sticks and buffalo chicken.

  They fell onto the food as if neither one of them had ever eaten before. When they came up for air, Callie detailed all of Grace’s behavior.

  Ivy was pissed. “She’s acting like a spoiled brat. And, what did she think would happen? That she would throw a fit, and we would miraculously stop being pregnant?”

  Callie snorted. “We did kind of spring it on her. And Hu.”

  “Hu is excited,” said Ivy, “and much better behaved.”

  Callie laughed. “It kind of balances, a wild one and a gentle one, but the wild one causes us to pull our hair out.”

  Ivy laughed. “Wild women cause problems. But, I like her that way.”

  Callie sighed. “She’s not going to be a Nighthawk, you know.”

  “She’s a Valkyrie,” said Ivy.

  Callie kissed Ivy. “I love being married to a wild woman.”

  “How wild can we get?” asked Ivy.

  “Sadly, Grace is still with us, so making love on this table is out.”

  “Damn,” said Ivy.

  They threw away the trash, and made it to the bathroom together before they kissed. The got in, and Ivy shut the door. Ivy put Callie up against the door, and kissed her deeply, stroking her face and neck. Callie pulled off Ivy’s shirt, and threw it into the hamper. Ivy pulled off Callie’s shirt, and took her breasts in her hands. Callie kept kissing back, and reached around to run her fingernails down Ivy’s back. Ivy arched her back, moaned, and kissed down Callie’s neck. Callie got Ivy’s bra off, licked the tips of her fingers, and stroked the tips of Ivy’s breasts.

  Ivy lost herself in the kiss, the heat. She leaned down, and took one of Callie’s perfect breasts in her mouth, flicking her tongue, licking and sucking. Callie moaned. Callie somehow got Ivy’s jeans off, then her panties. Ivy nearly ripped off Callie’s shorts, then underwear. They sunk down to the floor, and Ivy sucked Callie’s other breast, stroking, making her come. She held Callie close, moving her onto the rug. Ivy parted Callie’s legs, and Callie pulled Ivy to her. They kissed, and Callie drew up her leg. She reached to touch Ivy’s button. She flicked, pushed, and stuck her fingers inside, making Ivy come. Ivy turned around, and Callie had all that wetness there in front of her. She flicked with her tongue, and Ivy groaned.

  Ivy returned the favor and parted Callie’s legs, and began to flick with her own tongue. They flicked and touched, putting fingers in and out. They came together, in great waves; Ivy shuddering, trying to hold herself up. Ivy turned herself around, grabbed the wet wipes off the counter, and wiped them both off.

  They held each other, wrung out. Ivy managed to help Callie up, and they got on panties and shorts, and camisoles. They slept, with Ivy’s face in Callie’s hair, her leg over Callie just under her newly rounded belly. She patted her unborn daughter, and slept.

  Ivy answered the call at what, to her, was the crack of dawn. Callie was already up, working on finishing one of her courses. “Mmfh,” she said.

  “Sorry to wake you up,” said Gregory, “but, the babies are sick. They’re throwing up, and Elena…”

  “Bring her over,” said Ivy, barely able to get the words out. “Callie’s up.”

  “Thanks,” said Gregory. Ivy hung up the phone, texted Callie that Elena was coming over, and fell back asleep.

  The next call came an hour later. “Mmfh,” she said. “Sorry to wake you up,” said Tito. “But, the pipe burst in the bathroom at the club. I can’t get ahold of Gregory.”

  “Sick babies,” said Ivy. “Flu.”

  “Okay, I need authorization to…”

  “Shut up,” said Ivy. “Do it.” She hung up, rolled over, and slept again.

  The next call came barely fifteen minutes later. “Mmfh,” she said.

  “Sorry, sugar,” said Cougar. “Got a health inspection today. I’m doing it, but Carlos is kinda mad about having to come in.”

  “Give him babysitting money,” said Ivy, “and leave me the fuck alone.”

  Cougar laughed. “Not a morning person?” Ivy hung up on her.

  She woke up again in the late afternoon. Sun was streaking through the windows. She took a shower, and stumbled into the
kitchen. Luckily, the dogs were under the table, not her feet. Callie gave her a cola. Elena was sitting with Callie at the table, playing a vicious game of dominoes.

  “Missing a kid?” said Ivy.

  “Had a heartfelt apology this morning,” said Callie. “And, she called Nantan to apologize, then she apologized to Daisy and helped me walk all the doggies with Elena here. Then, she apologized to Henry, then Hu. I let her go over.”

  Ivy drained her Coke. “Damn,” she said, reading the label. “Caffeine-free?”

  “Still has sugar,” said Callie, playing two tiles, a double and a single.

  “Mmfh,” said Ivy. “Babies?”

  “Nasty flu,” said Callie, “they’re getting hydrated and medicated at the urgent care, and watched. Elena’s staying here so she doesn’t get it.”

  “Sorry,” said Elena, playing two tiles as well.

  “It’s good to have you,” said Ivy, grabbing another cola out of the refrigerator.

  “No, she wasn’t apologizing for that,” said Callie. “She’s out, and she kicked my ass. I’ve got lots of high tiles.” She started counting, and wrote her score on a pad.

  “Mmfh,” said Ivy. She found a bagel, sliced it in half, and slid it into the microwave.

  “She’s not a morning person,” said Elena.

  “Nope,” said Callie.

  Ivy found the strawberry cream cheese and a flat knife. When the microwave dinged, she attacked the bagel with the cream cheese.

  “I’ll have you know I got three calls this morning.”

  “What about?” asked Callie.

  “Gregory calling about Elena here, Tito calling about fixing the club bathroom, and Cougar calling about the health inspection.”

  “Busy morning,” said Callie.

  “Mmfh,” said Ivy. The phone in Ivy’s pocket rang just as she sat at the table. “What now?” she moaned, but answered it.

  “This is Ivy,” she said.

  “Hello, sister,” said Skuld. “We have info.”

  “Lay it on me,” said Ivy.

  “We have progress on the lawyer of the Mexican cartel assassin, La Diabla,” said Skuld. “Fancy a ride?”

  Capture

  Wraith decided to call in every expert she could find to figure out Ignacio Reyes Georges, La Diabla’s lawyer. First, she got a court order to record video, minus audio of the lawyer’s visits to La Diabla. The transcript showed nothing but ordinary conversation. Then, she called in two experts, one in sign language, and one in poker and other tells.

  The sign language expert, a young woman in a bright teal suit, said, “I got nothing.” Wraith paid her, and let her go.

  Jean Mayyan, the poker woman, had a lined face, tired blue eyes, and a shock of blue hair. She was dressed in black jeans and a cinnamon-colored top that matched her skin.

  She said, “Go away and bring me sustenance.”

  “What kind?” asked Wraith.

  “Caesar salad, breadsticks, and a raspberry tea.”

  “On it,” said Wraith. She’d do anything for a crack in the case, even become a gopher. Besides, the restaurant delivered.

  She got her own Caesar salad and a strawberry lemonade, and slammed out the paperwork she’d ignored when going deep.

  The food came, and Wraith brought it in to the poker expert. The blue-haired woman had a pen and paper, her cell phone open.

  “I see a pattern,” she said. “I’ll get it.”

  “Good,” said Wraith. She sat, and ate her lunch, as the woman watched the tapes on the monitors, a different one on each screen. “There,” said the expert. She pointed to La Diabla’s long fingers, tapping on the metal table she was chained to. Wraith looked over, the fingers tapping on each monitor.

  “You’re onto her,” said Wraith. “Ms. Mayyan, I think I love you.”

  “Wait until I crack the…” She dropped her fork, grabbed the pencil and the pad of paper, and started writing. “Code,” she said. “Number code.”

  “Account numbers,” said Wraith. “Asshole here’s gotta get paid.”

  Jean Mayyan wrote in dots. “Morse code. Little bitch. Numbers, letters.” She wrote quickly, and ripped off the paper. There were three bank names and numbers.

  “I do love you,” said Wraith.

  “Track those down and come back,” said Mayyan. “I’ll have more.”

  Wraith grabbed her salad and drink, and ran back to her desk. She worked off her earlier warrant, and tracked down the accounts. One was in the Cayman Islands, and two were in the US Virgin Islands.

  “Gotcha,” she said.

  She backtracked dates, and listed them all, for when the information came back. She called a contact in Treasury to get things moving there. She inhaled her salad, ate a tiny candy bar from her drawer, and attacked more paperwork. She then went back for more account numbers.

  “Have some of those,” said the expert. “I also have instructions. Kill orders.”

  “Kill those that bound me,” said the kill order. “Card man and braided hair woman.” There were details about the bar, and where Ivy lived.

  “They followed Ivy, and waited until they were at the rest stop to shoot,” said Wraith, her blue eyes ice cold. “Bastards.”

  “They put orders out on you and someone named Knife.”

  “Saber,” said Wraith. “Good luck on getting to us. We’re usually out in the field.” She tapped her fingernail on her lower lip. “Probably should trace whoever they hired for that.”

  “I have a name. Cistern?”

  “Already dead,” said Wraith. “Get me everything you can. You will get a bonus, a recommendation, whatever your little heart desires.”

  “Two of these raspberry lemonades and some Skittles.”

  “Done,” said Wraith.

  Mayyan worked for hours, translating everything. They laid it all out for a judge in California, the location of the Supermax where La Diabla, cartel assassin, was being held, and where her lawyer was located.

  Wraith sent a coded text to Saber, asking if he wanted to take a road trip to California. She slammed out more paperwork, then grabbed her go bag.

  She got the text that said, “Meet you in Pahrump.” She made good time.

  They met at a truck stop. He looked scruffy, piratical with his saber earring. “How’s it going?” she asked.

  He kissed her. “I am the biggest asshole in the gang,” he said. “I told them you were a prostitute.” She slapped his arm. “Hey!” he said, then he slipped her an envelope. She looked at the fake money, smiled, and slipped it in a pocket. They took off for the lawyer.

  They made good time. ATF met them to make the arrest. His office was in Century City in Los Angeles. The security guard was about to block the Valkyrie and the pirate from entry, but their credentials had him stepping back.

  “Don’t call anyone,” said Wraith. “You do, I’m arresting you, too.”

  The man swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said.

  They took the elevator to the eleventh floor. The offices of Oviedo, Georges, and Simpre were hushed, with a lot of glass and marble, and fish swimming in a huge tank.

  “We need to speak with Mr. Georges,” said Wraith. “Where is his office?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” asked the lovely receptionist with the long neck and the scarlet nails.

  “I do,” said Wraith, badging her. “Where. Is. His. Office.”

  Another lawyer came out with a client. Wraith sailed through the door, Saber right behind her.

  “Corner,” said Wraith. They went to the first corner, but that was Oviedo. The opposite one was for Georges. Saber threw open the door. He was about to shred a document.

  Wraith pointed her Glock at his head. “DEA. Step away from the shredder and put your hands up,” said Wraith.

  Georges visibly puffed himself up. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “You have the right to remain silent,” said Wraith, as Saber walked around the huge, black, gleaming desk and cuffed him.


  “You can’t do this,” said Georges.

  Wraith kept reading him the Miranda Rights. “Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

  “I understand that you’re arresting me,” said Georges. “For what reason?”

  “Cistern,” said Wraith. The blood drained out of his face. “Welcome to hell,” said Wraith. “You’re going to end up in the same place as many of your former clients.”

  She took the cell off his desk and put it in a plastic bag. She called a number on her own cell phone, and his pocket rang. She patted him down, and found the other phone. She put it in another bag.

  His secretary stood in the door, waving her hands. “They walked right past me, Mr. Georges,” she said.

  “Shut up, Rian,” said Georges. She backed up as if she’d been slapped.

  “I have a warrant,” said Wraith, showing it to Rian. Two more agents came in, along with a videographer and camera in hand. “Follow the money,” said Wraith, as they entered, boxes in hand.

  “Will do,” said Agent Callis.

  Oviedo deigned to come out of his corner office, infuriated. He was wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit, and even more expensive shoes.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Your counselor decided to work with his client to commit murder,” said Wraith, showing him the warrant.

  “That’s ridiculous!” said Oviedo.

  “The two of us were on his kill list,” said Wraith, pointing to herself and Saber. “He got paid and everything.” She opened a filing cabinet.

  “Privilege,” said Oviedo.

  “One client,” said Wraith. “It’s on the warrant.” She found the file, showing it to the camera. “Wow,” said Wraith, opening the file. “This is in code. Looks like I’ll have to get Mayyan to crack the code.”

  “What?” asked Oviedo. He walked closer. She held up the legal pad. “What the hell?”

  “Don’t know,” said Wraith. “But, I’m sure it’s interesting.”

  Ivy, Skuld, and Rota watched the ATF agents walk out with the lawyer, eyes narrowed. A phalanx of Iron Knights and Valkyries surrounded the car, backs against it. The lawyer looked around, nearly stumbling. The fierce women glared at him, and all the bikers with their backs to him. He swallowed. He began to realize it was all over —his Mexican wife with her Jimmy Choo shoes, Rian and her love of diamonds. The sex, the cocaine, and, if he did manage to get out, the bikers would still be there. He looked up, seeing his former office. Then, an agent had a hand on his head, and he was in the car. The bikers got on their bikes, and escorted the ATF car to their offices. Ivy grinned, following the car.