Brute's Strength

by Karen Renee

  Block looked at Har. “You’re sure he hasn’t met her kid?”

  “Motherfucker, I’m not gonna let that asshole hurt a child in his attempt to find out what happened to his scumbag brother.”

  Block’s dark eyes glittered. “Neither would I, Brute. Hell, neither would any of us.”

  “Calm down, both of you. Now that we have the bastard’s full name, I say we confront him,” Har said.

  Block shook his head. “If he’s in cahoots with Tovar, that’s probably what they’re after. May not be able to pin Wreck’s disappearance on Brute, but they can damn sure haul his ass in for assault.”

  Brute blew out a sigh. “You’re right. Shit.”

  Har tapped on his desk. “Joules called me twenty minutes ago. He’s been following Strickland since daybreak. He left his momma’s house at seven and drove over to Gulfport to meet a woman. Joules can’t tell if this woman is a prostitute or if the asshole actually has something with her.”

  “How’s he got money to pay a hooker or even get a woman interested in him? He doesn’t have a job as far as we know,” Block said, taking the words right out of Brute’s mouth.

  Har shook his head. “Not sure. You’re the computer guru, Block. Thought you were lookin’ in to that shit.”

  Block grumbled. “No. I’m the security guru. Punted that shit to the IT firm. I’ll follow up on that when I get back to the clubhouse.”

  “Speaking of ‘follow up,’ I got shit I need to do,” Brute said, standing. “Later.”

  Inside his truck, he called the club’s doctor, Doc Silverman. His nurse answered and Brute scheduled an appointment for later in the afternoon. Kenzie might trust him to go ungloved, but he intended to be certain that he wasn’t putting her at risk in yet another way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Last Thing You Need

  Kenzie

  “Are you enjoying not being behind the counter, Kenzie?” Duane Newcome, the bank’s district manager, asked me.

  Duane stood at six feet and had a runner’s build. His light brown hair was being taken over by gray. He had one of the friendliest smiles, and I suspected it put many customers’ minds at ease.

  I nodded. “Absolutely, Mr. Newcome. It’s great being able to help people do more with their money.”

  He chuckled. “Call me Duane. You sound like the HR department trained you to say that.”

  I chuckled. “No. I really feel that way. It’s a nice change of pace.”

  The front door opened and I gasped. Lucky for me, the security chime was so loud Duane didn’t hear my reaction to our new customer.

  The man who cornered me in the parking lot last week sauntered forward and looked to the right, straight into Lydia’s office. She came out to greet him with a bright smile on her face.

  He bent his head toward her, said something, and she peered over his shoulder at me. I shook my head in the slightest of shakes because I didn’t want either Duane or the man to see it.

  Duane looked over his shoulder and back to me. “It appears you have a customer. Don’t let me stand in the way.”

  He wandered over to Lydia and the man, then Duane’s arm swept out in a gesture for him to come to my desk.

  I pasted a smile on my face. From the way the man raised an eyebrow, I knew he saw right through it.

  “Mrs. Whitehall.”

  “I’m sorry, I never caught your name. What brings you by? Need to open an account?”

  He shot a fake smile my way. “I’m Truman Strickland. And, no I’m not here for an account. I do all my banking with the big boys.”

  Of course he did. Mentally, I shook myself. It wouldn’t do for me to have condescending thoughts about him.

  I gave a small shrug. “Never hurts to diversify.”

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Let’s drop the pretense. Seeing as my warning hasn’t deterred you from spending time with Brute, I hope your ex-husband had more success.”

  I sat back in my seat, crossed my arms, and gave him an assessing look. “Now, why do you think my ex-husband would be more influential?”

  “Thought I said, ‘let’s drop the pretense.’ I watched your ex-husband drop by your home yesterday evening.”

  A chill raced up my spine. “Why are you watching my home? What difference is it to you who I see?”

  Strickland’s head gave a small shake. “Single mothers shouldn’t be with criminals.”

  Duane and Lydia had been having a conversation, but I noticed him crane his neck as though looking more closely at us would help him hear our conversation. I smiled bright for Duane’s benefit. “Mr. Strickand, Sam Vaillant isn’t a criminal.”

  “Just because he hasn’t been convicted doesn’t mean he isn’t a criminal.”

  I nodded. “We’re at a stalemate. Though watching me isn’t going to help you with this crazy vendetta you’ve got.”

  Strickand’s eyes went from fake-friendliness to shrewd calculation. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  Reflexively, my brow arched. “I’m sorry? Is that a threat?”

  He leaned forward. “We Stricklands don’t make threats. Something’s happened to Norris, and I’m damn well going to get to the bottom of it. You want to get caught up with a thug, that’s your problem.”

  I stood up and rounded my desk. “Not a problem at all, Mr. Strickland. I’ll let you get on with your day. Thank you for visiting First Bank of Biloxi.”

  As he got to his feet, his eyes held my gaze. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitehall,” he said, loud enough for Duane and Lydia to hear. Lydia, who stood just behind Duane, gave me her big eyes. It wasn’t good to let a customer walk out the door without opening an account.

  Strickland turned to leave as the front door opened and Brute walked inside, a young brunette next to him.

  The two men stared at one another for a long moment. His struggle to place Mr. Strickland was written on Brute’s face. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Duane look meaningfully at Lydia. With a cross between a grimace and a smile on her face, she moved toward Brute and the woman.

  “Welcome to First Bank of Biloxi,” she chirped.

  Brute’s eyes cut to her, to me, and then back to Lydia. “We’re here to see Ms. Whitehall.”

  “I’m sure Ms. Powers here can assist you,” Duane said.

  Brute’s eyes cut to Duane. His gaze went to the name tag affixed to his suit jacket and his lips pulled to the side. “I’m sure she can. But we have an appointment with—”

  “I’m just leaving. Have a good day, Mrs. Whitehall,” Truman Strickland said.

  I fought glowering at his backside because I knew he used the ‘Mrs.’ prefix on purpose.

  The smile I shot at Brute was far from fake. “Right this way, Mr. Vailliant. I presume this is your assistant?”

  I stopped next to my desk, facing them. The brunette smiled at me. “Yes. I’m Meg Renthrope.”

  I shook her hand. “Well, let’s get you set up. I’m sure you’re both very busy.”

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, I handed Meg a temporary debit card to Brute’s business account.

  “That card works right now?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, but it will expire. She should have her real card no later than next Wednesday.”

  He nodded. “Good.” He turned to Meg. “You’re set. When you finish those reports back at the office, you can take the rest of the afternoon off.”

  She grinned and stood. “Thanks, boss.”

  “Don’t mention it. Drive safe.”

  I caught Brute’s eyes. “You two drove separate?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t know you’d have higher-ups here. Thought I’d take you to lunch, but I’m guessing that’s out.”

  I pressed my lips together. “I didn’t know he’d be swinging by today either, but that’s how they keep us on our toes. I could make you dinner tonight, if you want? Aubrey’s still with Caleb tonight.”

  “All right, but nothing fancy.”

  My head tilted. “I don’t c
onsider it that fancy, but I’m making my lemony-dill-garlic-butter salmon. Aubrey won’t eat it... yet. So, I have to get my fix when she’s not home.”

  He gave me a hard look. “You don’t consider that fancy?”

  I shrugged one shoulder.

  His lips pursed for a beat. “Who was the jackass here before us? He looked familiar, but hell if I can place him.”

  I frowned. “That was Truman Strickland, the man who’s warned me off you. Twice now... or three times, if we count him using my ex-husband in his efforts.”

  Brute’s eyes widened. “You are shittin’ me. What the hell did he want?”

  My head swiveled to the side for a moment before I looked back to him. “Same old, same old, I guess. Said he watched Caleb drop by my house and wanted to know if he’d gotten through to me.”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “Really?”

  I nodded. Before Brute showed up, I wasn’t going to share my gut reaction to Strickland’s visit, but with him sitting here, the words spilled out of me. “I think this is all very personal with him.”

  His brown eyes narrowed. “No joke, Kenzie, but explain.”

  “It’s just a feeling, but when I said I didn’t know what he expected me to do, he said, ‘single mothers shouldn’t be with criminals.’ I mean, why the hell does he care who I spend my time with? And why would he tell me how to parent?”

  His chin dipped. “You’re right. None of this shit makes a lick of sense, babe. I was mulling over Detective Tovar’s involvement with Block and Har earlier.”

  “And?”

  He exhaled hard and shook his head. “We got jack.”

  After a moment, I asked, “Why can’t Tovar see how crazy this Strickland guy is? I mean, he’s concerned about his missing brother, but following you and watching my house. That’s unsettled behavior.”

  Brute’s eyes warmed with approval. “You’re not wrong, babe. But Strickland is a former private detective, though he didn’t last long at it. That might have gotten him in with Tovar. Who knows? We’ll chat more at dinner. Got the impression your boss’s boss wasn’t too keen on a biker doin’ business here.”

  I choked on laughter. “I don’t think it was that. He wasn’t keen on me letting Strickland get out the door without opening an account. For that alone I’d like to wring the man’s neck. Wasting my time so blatantly, and being condescending to boot.”

  Brute chuckled. “You can tell me how you really feel over salmon and fried green tomatoes.”

  AT FOUR O’CLOCK DUANE dropped by my desk.

  “Got a minute, Kenzie?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s go to Lydia’s office,” he said with a broad smile.

  I grabbed a pen and a memo pad, even though my gut told me I wouldn’t need it.

  Duane closed the door behind me. While his back was turned, Lydia shot me her big eyes and a sympathetic look.

  Duane propped a hip on the corner of Lydia’s desk. I knew he did it to make things look casual, but I suspected he did it to exert authority over both me and Lydia. “What happened with Mr. Strickland, the customer who came in before lunch?”

  I shot a closed lipped smile at him. “He wasn’t here to do business, sir. Or, not financial business. He’s a man looking for his missing brother. He used to be a private detective, and—”

  Duane’s eyes widened and I realized I should’ve lied. “Does he think the branch has something to do with this?”

  “No, no, Duane,” Lydia said.

  He gave Lydia a look as though he forgot she was there. The concern ebbed from his face. “Why is he talking to you about it? Did you know his brother?”

  I shook my head. “No, sir. He had a question for me. I answered it and he took the time to advise me on other matters.”

  Duane did a long slow nod. “Next time, work harder to convince him to bank with us.”

  I smiled and nodded as he went on about how much better our company was compared to national banks. Deep down, I prayed I never set eyes on Truman Strickland again.

  At the end of his lecture, to my disappointment, Duane shifted so he could look between me and Lydia. “Are you aware the customer you met with after the detective is a gang member?”

  Lydia closed her eyes and exhaled softly.

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t know that. For that matter, how would I?”

  Duane folded his arms. “Kenzie, his vest advertises that he’s a thug and in a gang.”

  My head cocked to the side. “It says he’s in a ‘club.’”

  “It’s a gang, Kenzie. You need to be careful.”

  My hands went up in a conciliatory gesture. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. But, in opening the business account for Mr. Vaillant—”

  “A business account?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir. He’s a general contractor who has been jerked around by one of the national banks. In setting up his account, I can tell you he has decent credit and I saw no red flags in the system.”

  Duane audibly took in a deep breath, held it and slowly exhaled. “Very well. Though, if he makes you uncomfortable, do not hesitate—”

  “We don’t hesitate around here, Duane. Safety is always first,” Lydia said.

  Brute

  LIFTING THE TWO-HUNDRED-twenty-five pound tire, Brute grunted loud enough he heard it echo in his dad’s gym. The crack of the tire hitting the floor was as satisfying as the feeling of the floor vibrating beneath his feet.

  “Boy! You’re missing half the work-out, your form is so bad!” his father shouted from the other end of the gym.

  He growled under his labored breath.

  He grabbed a long drink of water and waited for Dad to cross the room.

  As his dad drew closer, he said, “Not missing my work-out. Let my form go on the last two reps.”

  “Letting your form go on any rep is bad, Sammy. Pushing the tire over is just as important, if not more so. That’s where the arms are engaged, you know that.”

  He blew out a breath. “I do, so I don’t need you repeating it.”

  “Boy... you may have grown bigger and stronger than me, but I’m smarter than you. That means I can still take your ass. Now, what’s got you in a snit?”

  “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. Then, “Not in a snit, Dad.”

  He gave Brute a look. “Something’s got you wound tight. What is it?”

  Brute bent over, lifted the tire, and kept his form so he’d get the full work-out in front of Dad. After the tire slammed to the ground, he said, “A man’s been following me, and he’s been watching Kenzie. I don’t fuckin’ like it, and I just came face to face with him today at her bank.”

  Dad’s jaw clenched. “Following you and keeping eyes on your girl?”

  Brute exhaled hard. “Not watchin’ her at all times, but he’s kept close enough tabs he knows who her ex-husband is, and approached him.”

  “Her ex-husband come by the house to pick up the daughter?”

  Brute paused. “No... That asshole must be watching who leaves the school with Aubrey.”

  Dad’s eyes widened and he pointed a finger at Brute. “You gotta shut that shit down, son. This fucker’s watching your girl, and then watching her daughter to get at the ex-husband. That’s fucked up.”

  He executed one more rep with the tire and faced Dad. “It is fucked up. I got shit to do, Dad. You need me to put this back—”

  Dad arched a brow at him. “You got shit to do, but you got time to put this tire where it belongs.”

  Something in Dad’s words spurred his memory. “Reminds me, you or Gina got time to whip up your fried green tomatoes? I mentioned I’d bring them by Kenzie’s tonight.”

  Dad gave him a hard look. “You’re lucky I like your new girlfriend, son. Otherwise, I’d say no. But I’ll have Gina get the ingredients together for me.”

  AN HOUR LATER, HE FOUND Joules at the clubhouse. He perched on a barstool and cleared his throat. Joules looked at him.

>   “Hear you’ve been following Truman Strickland. I need his fuckin’ address.”

  Joules nodded once. “Now that is that last thing you need.”

  Brute fought his temper. “He’s followed me, my woman, and his approach to the ex-husband says he’s watchin’ her fuckin’ daughter. That is the last thing anybody needs. And I’m damn sure gonna put a stop to it.”

  “And you’re damn sure playing into his hands,” Tiny said from Brute’s other side.

  Brute looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Don’t recall askin’ you, Tiny.”

  “Like I give a shit. You don’t need to end up behind bars.”

  “And a little girl shouldn’t be on this fuckwad’s radar, either.”

  Joules set down his beer. “Nobody around here’s gonna argue that, Brute. But you have to admit, we gotta be careful.”

  He clenched his teeth. His phone chimed with a text from Kenzie.

  Heading home now. Does 7:30 work for you?

  He responded that it did. Before he could get up from the bar, a hand clapped on his shoulder. “Got good news for you, brother,” Cynic said.

  Brute turned around to face him. “How’s that?”

  “Beast and his woman were headed from Jacksonville to Orlando, but decided to stop off in Daytona. They’re using Wreck’s cards in a couple of places—”

  “Are they still working?” Brute asked.

  Cynic gave a short nod. “One of them still is because the brother didn’t know Wreck had it. The other card’s been flagged. Either way, the activity in Daytona should get this asshole outta your hair for a while.”

  “Maybe,” Brute conceded. “Thanks for the update.”

  He went to his room for a quick shower. His gut said Strickland wasn’t going to believe the credit card activity, and it left brothers in the Jacksonville chapter open to questioning. If they were caught.

  The only upside was that Strickland had no way of knowing where the body had been buried.

  The downside was that bringing Kenzie and her daughter into this in any way screamed this man was unhinged.