Wreck & Ruin

by Emma Slate

  I firmly thrust that line of thought from my mind as we strode to the hostess of the restaurant. She looked us up and down, and yet her expression didn’t change.

  “Mr. Weston?” she said finally with a smile.

  Colt’s grin was arrogant. “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

  “Mr. Campbell is expecting you. Please, follow me.” She ushered us through the busy restaurant to the back. Opening a door, she gestured for us to enter a private dining room.

  An attractive man, with dark hair and cobalt blue eyes, rose from his chair and buttoned the middle suit button of his gray jacket. An auburn haired woman sat in the seat next to him but didn’t move to stand.

  “Thank ye, Janet,” he said, his voice thick and husky with a Scottish brogue.

  “Will that be all, Mr. Campbell?”

  “Aye.”

  Janet left and shut the door.

  My eyes darted between Mr. Campbell and the woman who had taken her time rising from her chair. She was stunning and regal, and though we were the same height, it was only because my boots put us at eye-level. Her auburn hair hung in loose waves about her shoulders, her white, asymmetrical gown more suited for a gala than a sit-down dinner.

  As if noticing my hesitation, her smile widened in a show of genuine welcome. She came toward me, hand held out. “Hi, I’m Barrett.”

  Her lack of formality surprised me. Taking her palm, I gripped it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mia.”

  “I love your boots,” she said, eyeing the studded footwear Colt had bought me. “They look like they’re made for stomping on hearts.”

  I laughed. “I feel very under dressed.”

  She dismissed my statement with a nod of her queenly head. “Knowing Colt, he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a suit.”

  “Your wife knows me well, Campbell,” Colt drawled.

  Campbell grinned and looked at me. “It’s good to meet you, Mia. Call me Flynn.”

  “How are the boys?” Colt asked Barrett.

  “Driving us both to drink,” she said with a wink. She turned to me and explained, “We have three boys under the age of five.”

  “That sounds like a handful,” I said. I tried to hide my astonishment. The woman standing in front of me had three children? I never would’ve guessed it judging by her trim, elegant figure.

  Flynn pulled Barrett to his side and draped an arm around her. She placed her left hand on his chest, and I immediately noticed that her wedding band was demure and elegant. These people, despite the hotel empire they ran, were not gaudy and I began to relax.

  “What, you don’t say hello to me anymore?” Colt asked as he raised an eyebrow at Flynn.

  Flynn rubbed his jaw, pretending not to smile. “If I jumped into your arms, could you catch me?”

  “Let’s find out,” Colt shot back.

  “Let’s not,” Barrett interrupted.

  Flynn let go of his wife and then approached Colt. The two men stared at each other for a moment before they engaged in a manly bro hug.

  “You look well,” Flynn said, peering at Colt a moment before shifting his gaze to me. “Are you keeping this one in order?”

  “As much as Barrett keeps you in order, I’m sure,” I quipped, causing laughter to ring out.

  Flynn waved us all to the set table. White china, white tablecloth, goblets trimmed with gold.

  Colt surprised me by helping me with my chair. I gazed up at him in astonishment.

  Leaning down, he whispered, “I can be a gentleman if I need to be.”

  “Please, don’t ever be a gentleman,” I replied, reaching up to touch his cheek. Turning my attention back to the other occupants, I froze. Barrett and Flynn were both staring at us.

  Colt took his seat next to me and then placed the black linen napkin across his lap.

  “Your boys arrived,” Flynn said. “They’re currently drinking some of my best scotch in the club.”

  “Club? What club?” I asked.

  “There’s a burlesque club attached to the hotel,” Flynn explained. “There’s also a rooftop Whiskey Room—but I think that’s better suited for later this evening when you want discuss business.”

  “You brought your sister to Dallas for a night out and now she’s stuck with a bunch of rowdy bikers in a burlesque club?” I glanced at Colt. “How is that a good idea?”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “You didn’t tell me he was bringing his sister,” Barrett said, looking to her husband.

  His gaze swiveled to her. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  “Joni’s fine,” Colt stated.

  “I’m checking on her after dinner,” I said. “Besides, I want to see this burlesque club.”

  “I’ll be glad to show it to you,” Barrett said.

  “What rare delicacy are you going to force me to eat?” Colt demanded.

  “Duck,” Barrett announced.

  “Did Duncan shoot it?”

  “No,” Flynn replied, amused.

  “Duncan is Flynn’s best friend—and surrogate brother,” Barrett said. “Who happens to also be married to my best friend.”

  “Tight knit family, huh?” I asked.

  “Very,” Barrett said with a wink.

  “How is Duncan? And Ash,” Colt added.

  “Good. Got their hands full with the bairns.”

  “And Ramsey? How’s he doin’?”

  “Ramsey is Ramsey.” Flynn shrugged.

  “Ramsey is?” I pressed.

  “Duncan’s younger brother,” Flynn said to me.

  “Is it too late to ask for a diagram of the family tree?”

  Barrett laughed. “It’s hard when you don’t have faces to go with the names.”

  There was a knock on the door and Flynn called out, “Come in.”

  The door opened and two servers in formal clothing pushed in a cart.

  “Butternut ginger soup with a crème fraîche garnish,” one server said as his companion poured a light, almost clear white wine.

  “Enjoy.”

  They took the cart and left, closing the door after them. I took a moment to savor the soup, noting that Flynn wasn’t eating. Neither was Colt.

  Barrett caught my eye and winked. I smiled at her.

  “So,” Flynn began. “Should we get down to it?”

  “Yeah,” Colt agreed.

  Flynn’s eyes slid to mine and then back to Colt. “Do you want to have this conversation in front of her?”

  “Mia’s got my ink,” Colt explained. He gestured with his chin to Barrett. “You have your wife sit in on meetings.”

  “I’ve come to appreciate her council,” Flynn said, his brogue thick.

  Barrett rolled her eyes but said nothing.

  “This shit involves Mia. I told you some of it on the phone.”

  “Aye.” Flynn nodded. “Go on.”

  “I’ve got a big fucking problem.”

  “Big, like you need an influx of illegal arms to fight someone, or big like you need someone to disappear?” Flynn asked.

  “Big, like there’s a cartel in Waco’s backyard big.”

  “Which cartel?” Flynn asked, his tone blasé like he was discussing the weather.

  “Garcia.”

  I shot a look to Colt but held my tongue.

  “Why is the Garcia cartel a problem for you?” Flynn asked.

  “Mia’s former boss stole a shitload of coke from the Iron Horsemen. Their president cut a deal with the Garcia cartel to act as drug mules and move the product through Waco. The best we can figure right now is that Richie wanted Dev gone so he stole from the cartel, hoping they’d kill Dev and his problems would be over. That didn’t pan out, and Richie wound up dead. Now we’ve got a shitload of coke to deal with that belongs to the Garcia cartel and one very pissed off club president who knows if he doesn’t get it back he’s going to die. Dev we can deal with, but the cartel? That’s why we’re here.”

  “And how did Mia get involved if it was her boss who did
the stealing?” Flynn asked.

  “The last time Mia saw Richie, she was taking him to the bus depot to get out of town. They stopped at a storage unit. Richie dropped the key in her truck to the storage unit, which is full of the product he stole. We found it a few days ago. I don’t want my boys moving it.”

  “You want me to move it.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t get involved in cartel business,” Flynn said.

  “Right,” Colt drawled. “You don’t.” His gaze shot to Barrett.

  They were speaking in riddles and I wasn’t privy to the code.

  Colt leaned back in his chair, feigning ease I knew he didn’t feel. His body was taut and lined with tension.

  Barrett looked at her husband. “What do you think?”

  “I think he’ll want something.”

  Barrett smirked. “No doubt.” She sobered. “Are you okay with this?”

  “No.” Flynn’s jaw clenched. “But I don’t see another option. It’s only a matter of time before the Garcias expand. That could be bad for our business.”

  What business was Flynn talking about? Clearly not the hotel business. And why was Colt asking Flynn to deal with the storage unit full of coke?

  Who was Flynn Campbell?

  Because he sure as shit wasn’t just a hotel mogul.

  Our conversation was cut off by another knock on the door, this time for the servers to clear our dishes and deliver the duck entrée. I noticed that neither Flynn nor Colt had touched the soup. Barrett’s bowl was empty. Clearly this sort of talk didn’t affect her appetite.

  Once we were in private again, Flynn spoke, “Barrett will reach out to Mateo Sanchez.”

  “I promise nothing,” she voiced. “But I can get you a meeting.”

  No longer able to hold back my curiosity, I asked, “Who’s Mateo Sanchez?”

  Barrett looked at me and smiled wryly. “The most powerful man in Argentina.”

  “You’re friends with the most powerful man in Argentina?” I gaped at Barrett.

  “‘Friends’ is a strong word,” she answered. “I prefer business associate.”

  “Business associate, my arse,” Flynn muttered.

  “How did that happen?” I asked. “Sorry, I’m just—I have to know.”

  “Mia, I don’t think—”

  “No, it’s fine,” Flynn interrupted. “You trust her, aye?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Colt said.

  “Then we can let her in.”

  “Wow,” Barrett said in amusement. “This is certainly a change from the Flynn Campbell I met years ago.”

  Flynn smiled, showing a dazzling row of white teeth. “I’ve mellowed with age.”

  Barrett laughed. “Yeah, sure.” She glanced at me. “When Flynn was in trouble, I went to Mateo for help. You’ll never hear his name on the news, but no one else has the kind of power Mateo has.”

  Flynn pulled his wife’s chair closer to him and then reached out and touched one of her auburn locks.

  “We’ve been in business with Mateo ever since. Much to Flynn’s consternation—it’s been lucrative.”

  “They’re friends even though she says they’re not,” Flynn stated. “He sends her a Christmas card every year for God’s sake.”

  “He sends it to both of us,” she countered.

  “He addresses the envelope to you.”

  Barrett shrugged, but didn’t reply. She picked up her glass of wine and took a drink.

  I wanted to ask more questions, but Flynn shifted the conversation to other matters. They talked about their family and the antics their young boys got into constantly. Barrett pulled out her phone and showed me pictures.

  It was surreal, sitting and talking with the Campbells, having dinner with them. Like we all weren’t just discussing illegal activities that would send us to prison for life if we were caught. Every so often, I noticed Barrett watching me with a small smile. It was a smile of understanding, I realized.

  After we finished our meal, Colt said, “I think I’d like to bring the boys up for a chat in your Whiskey Room.”

  Flynn nodded. “I’ll clear it out.”

  “That’s perfect. You men can talk all you want while I take Mia down to see the burlesque club,” Barrett said.

  “Go easy on her, Barrett,” Colt said dryly.

  Barrett laughed. “She’ll be fine. No doubt she can handle herself.”

  We all left the private dining room to walk through the restaurant to the lobby. Zip stood with a group of men who wore leather cuts denoting them as the Blue Angels Coeur d’Alene chapter.

  “Where’s Joni?” I asked, approaching Zip.

  “Still in the club. She saved you a table,” Zip said. He turned to Barrett and grinned. “Look at you.”

  “Look at me.” She smiled back.

  Zip embraced her and then pulled away. Despite Barrett’s expensive clothes and wealth, she was clearly at ease with the rough and tough biker crowd.

  I felt Colt’s arm drape over my shoulder. “Come here, I wanna introduce you to Knight.” He dragged me away from Zip and Barrett and we headed to the other side of the throng. A tall man with a mostly brown beard sprinkled with gray and weathered skin from the years on a bike was talking softly to a younger biker with a strong, angular jawline.

  “Knight,” Colt greeted.

  He turned toward Colt, his hand outstretched, a smile blooming across his face. But just as he was about to greet Colt, his gaze turned to me and he visibly blanched. Even though his beard hid most of his face, I could see the swatches of his cheeks pale.

  “Knight?” Colt pressed, obviously seeing the man’s reaction to me. “You okay?”

  Knight swallowed and then nodded. He forced a smile and clasped his hand to Colt’s. “Good to see you, boy.”

  “Thanks for coming. The Rex is treating you right, yeah?”

  “Just had a glass of the best bourbon money can buy.” Knight grinned, shooting me another quick glance.

  “Knight, I’d like you to meet my Old Lady, Mia. Mia, this is Knight, president of the Coeur d’Alene Blue Angels.”

  “Mia,” he said, his voice raspy. “Glad to meet you.”

  “You too.” I shook his hand, noting how he held onto mine a little longer than was socially acceptable. I forced a smile and tried to shove my unease aside.

  “We’re headed up to the Whiskey Room,” Colt said to me. “We should be there for a while.”

  I nodded, understanding what he was telling me without saying it. It was club business and so I was not going to be part of it.

  “Barrett and Flynn have given us suites,” Colt said. “We won’t be driving back to Waco when we’re finished.”

  Which was Colt speak for, drink and be merry, and I planned on doing just that.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could feel Knight’s penetrating stare. I didn’t care for it, so I made my goodbye with Colt brief. I kissed his lips and then slipped from his side, determined to find Barrett.

  She was still conversing with Zip but when she saw me, she linked her arm through mine and said, “Gentlemen, enjoy your evening. We will definitely enjoy ours!”

  Barrett waved to her husband and threw him a sassy smile, which he pretended not to enjoy, but even I could see the twinkle in his eye. We went into the burlesque club and I took a moment to stop and marvel at the decor. Old school gas lanterns graced the walls and the stage was lit with vaudevillian type bulbs. The female servers were dressed like cigar girls. An eight-piece brass band was in the orchestra pit and the velvet brocade curtains of the stage were currently shut.

  “Wow,” I said.

  Barrett tossed out a laugh. “I know, right?”

  “It’s unbelievable. I feel like I’ve stepped back in time.”

  “Precisely the point. Oh look, there’s Joni.” Barrett nodded with her chin in the direction of one of the booths where Joni sat with a drink.

  Barrett and I came over and Joni
was out of her seat before we even reached her. She hugged Barrett. “I didn’t know you’d be here! I thought you’d be with the men.”

  “I think it’s nice for husbands to be able to let loose from time to time without their wives looking over their shoulders. Besides, I’d much rather catch up with you—and get to know Mia.”

  We sat down and immediately a server came by to take our drink orders.

  “I’ll have another gimlet, please,” Joni said.

  The server nodded and then looked to Barrett who replied, “The usual.”

  “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” I said, looking at Barrett.

  “Very good. I’ll be back in a moment with your drinks,” the server said and then left.

  Barrett leaned back against the leather booth and crossed her legs. “You don’t even know what my usual is. You may hate it.”

  “Doubt it. You clearly have good taste.”

  “Yes, she does,” Joni teased. “Have you seen her husband?”

  Laughing in delight, Barrett joked, “He’s okay.”

  “How’d you meet Flynn?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure I even know the history between you two.” Joni’s gaze was curious.

  “Long story,” Barrett evaded. “Too long, but in a roundabout way, I guess you could say I worked for Flynn at The Rex in New York. Seems like just yesterday, and now we have three children. Time flies, you know?”

  I nodded in agreement. “I know. Believe me.”

  “Oooh, color me intrigued.” She leaned forward like I was about to tell her a secret. “What’s your story with Colt?”

  “Only that they were like, instantly together,” Joni said.

  I cracked out a laugh. “You were pushing us together. You were all pushing us together.”

  Joni looked at Barrett. “She got inked.”

  “Oh, that’s right! Let me see,” Barrett demanded.

  I dutifully removed my leather jacket and gave her my back. The tattoo poked out the side of my black tank, but Barrett still had to move the strap aside to get a really good look at it in all its glory.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed.

  “Thanks.” She dropped my strap and I turned back around to face them. “You don’t have any tattoos?”