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  “For you, my friend,” Knuckles said with a grin around his cigarette. “Anything else you need?”

  The envelope disappeared into Fox’s bag, and he cast his eyes around before asking. “Is that, uh ... that blonde around?”

  Knuckles’ grin got wider. “Tessa? From last time?”

  Fox nodded. “Yeah. I’d like to, uh, see her again.”

  “You got it, my friend. Let’s track her down.”

  Fritter grabbed the beer he’d set on the floor next to his chair and tipped it to his mouth with his right hand, the one not attached to a throbbing arm.

  Mickey sank into the sofa opposite Fritter, but not before kicking his boot as a greeting. “How’s the arm?”

  “Good. How’s Jolene?”

  “Pissed about the van. And me not telling her why it’s missing.”

  “That’s for the best, though.”

  “Yeah, she knows that, too. She’s still pissed.”

  “She’ll get over it,” Fritter said, closing his eyes. “Fuck. Why am I always the one getting shot?”

  “Lucky,” Knuckles answered, flopping onto the sofa next to Mickey. “What a fucking rush, though.”

  “Any word from Sachetti yet?”

  Mickey shook his head at Fritter’s question. “Jayce is in the boardroom, just waiting for that phone to ring.”

  “What the hell was with that, though?” Knuckles asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “That fucking guy had to be someone. Otherwise they’d cap him wherever they found him. They wanted him for information or ransom or something.”

  Mickey rubbed his bottom lip. He got a look he rarely got; the look of truly deep thought. “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be a shit storm. My money says this guy was known to the law, too. And he was found dead in my van? We’re going to be getting some uncomfortable attention.”

  They all thought that over. It was a noisy mess they’d left on that highway and the vehicle had an obvious tie to the club. If the stiff proved to be famous in any way the local PD couldn’t keep it under wraps, and this meant the possibility of higher-up law enforcement involvement. And that always made life tricky for Sheriff Downey.

  Not that he was particularly worried about the sheriff’s career. Or maybe he was. Shit, who really knew?

  “Everyone—to the table!” Tank’s way of talking may have been a bit slower but he could still bellow when he had to. The three of them got to their feet and filed towards the doorway just behind the back wall of the bar.

  Jayce was hunched forward at the head of the long table that took up most of the room. He was running his hand back and forth over his cropped hair, a sign that he was stressed. His quick look up at them then his nod to the phone that had been dragged from the corner to the middle of the table told them what was going on. Sachetti had called.

  When they settled Jayce spoke. “Okay, the guys are here now.”

  “And we’re secure?”

  Spaz nodded, prompting Jayce to reply. “Locked down.”

  “Okay. So what the fuck happened?” Not even Sachetti; this was Guidinger.

  Tank shook his head, so Fritter picked it up. The big guy’s speech came harder when he was stressed or nervous. “Guys on sport bikes jacked us. They were shooting, right on the highway. Took out the tires of the van. It’s a damn miracle none of us spilled. They were after the cargo, they went right for him.”

  “And they got him?”

  Eyes met around the table and eventually Jayce nodded. Fritter tried to sound sorry. “Yeah, they got him. Lucky shot, through the head.”

  “Fuck.”

  They waited for the tongue lashing to continue, and when it didn’t happen Jayce cleared his throat. “With all due respect, what was with the cargo? I was a bit surprised to hear what you had us delivering.”

  That brought a chuckle, and Fritter’s back relaxed just slightly. “Kinda came up unexpected, for us, too. Two weeks ago one of our supply trains got jacked. Few dozen high-caliber weapons and various specialty items. Our guys had been travelling through Mexico when it happened.”

  And the relaxed feeling popped like the head on cheap beer.

  “Don’t worry about this guy. He’s a lieutenant, nothing more. The Castillos might miss him, but I think we made our point.”

  “Shit,” Knuckles whispered across the table. Jayce motioned him to be quiet.

  “I would have liked a little video or photographic evidence, but their theft of our goods was a bit low key as well. May as well keep it even.”

  “We had to leave the body, the vehicle was not drivable. There’s going to be cops all over the place. Are you telling me these bikers we offed were cartel?” He was rubbing his head again. Yep, Jayce was stressing.

  “Most likely. No one important, though. They could suspect you were part of it if your vehicle was registered to one of you.”

  Mickey was nodding. “Yeah,” Jayce cut in sharply. “It was a company vehicle for my guy’s garage.”

  “In his name?”

  “His wife’s.”

  There was a sharp inhale of breath. “Keep an eye on her, boys. These guys are fucking animals.”

  Fritter’s stomach constricted, and Mickey’s hands bunched into fists. “If my wife gets fucking hurt—”

  Mickey was usually pretty calm, but bring up the hint of danger to his woman and he was just as dangerous as the rest of them. Tank put an arm on their treasurer’s arm, and Mickey sat back but there was a vein throbbing in his forehead.

  “Keep an eye on her,” Guidinger was saying back while all this was going on. “That’s what I’m saying. What the fuck were you guys involved in before? Toy runs?”

  “We’ll watch out for her.” Jayce’s voice was just as compassionate as his gaze on Mickey. “What do we do about this guy? Where does this leave us?”

  “I ain’t pissed, if that’s what you mean. We were after the same result, it just didn’t come about the way we wanted. I’ll make a few calls to some people I know, see what it would take to take some of the fucking heat off of this. I’m glad you guys got out okay.”

  “One of us got shot,” Jayce corrected, eyebrow cocked at Fritter. “Grazed his arm. He’s all right, though.”

  “I’ll add five grand to your fee. Make sure it goes to him.”

  Fritter raised an eyebrow and Knuckles sat up straight, hands out with a look of silent outrage, mouth hanging open as though he’d been wronged.

  “Will do. Anything else we need to do, let us know?”

  There was a pause, then Guidinger responded. “Trust me, I will. I like you guys, by the way. Especially you, McClune.”

  Jayce was chuckling as the click came, indicating the connection was broken.

  “Five grand for six fucking stitches?” Knuckles shouted immediately. “Fuck you all. I’m getting shot next time.”

  “I volunteer to do it,” Fritter returned with a grin. It earned him the finger.

  “Castillos?” Tank muttered. “Fucking cartel running down our convoy? In California yet? We weren’t even that far from home.”

  “I know. But for Sachetti money, this is the risk we take.” Jayce sounded much more in favor of all this than Tank was.

  Buck gave a long sigh. “Fuck, this makes me nervous.”

  “They were after one of their own,” Tiny pointed out, rubbing his chin. “Not necessarily us.”

  “But now they’ll know our association with the Sachettis,” Mickey filled in.

  “Jolene doesn’t go out unless there’s at least a prospect on her. Keep someone with her at the office, too.” Jayce’s finger jabbed the tabletop to punctuate his point.

  Mickey was nodding. “I don’t want her out of my sight, Jayce. I’ll watch out for her myself.”

  “Of course.” Jayce was nodding now. “I expect Markham PD will be by soon too, letting Mickey know they found his van.”

  “We were pretty close to Kern County,” Tank pointed out. “I wonder if she’ll get the case yanked.�
��

  Jayce mused that over for a moment, chewing his lip. “Might work best for us if it is. As long as the stolen vehicle report sticks. Shadow of a doubt who was leading who?”

  Tank shook his head as he replied. “They know we’re in it. They knew who we were and what we had which means the cartel is on to us working for Sachetti.”

  “Leave the law in the dark, though,” Knuckles spoke up chewing his nail.

  “What?”

  Knuckles swiveled his chair to face his President. “Leave the law in the dark over what happened. We can point them whichever way we want, really. Tell them it was the Mazaris that stole the van, nothing to do with us. Keeps some heat off us. That’s shit way over our heads. Sachetti and the Castillos? Fuck, throw the Mazaris in the mix and we take Sachetti out of the crosshairs. Make it look like brown and brown are having a tiff. I bet Guidinger would fucking love that.”

  Jayce shrugged one shoulder. “We do have a history of bad blood with Mazaris, we took away their kiddie courier service, brought them law attention.”

  Fritter was squirming. He was not okay with taking the cartel out of the picture. Forewarned was forearmed, and Sheriff Downey being unaware of the cartel coming this close—

  What the fuck was he thinking about? He needed his head examined, it was becoming obvious.

  There was a knock and Jayce hollered for whoever it was to enter. Rusty pushed the door open and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Umm, Jayce? Sheriff’s here. She, uh, she looks pissed.”

  There were chuckles around the table that bothered Fritter, just a little. He fought back that uneasy feeling as well and got to his feet as Jayce declared their meeting done.

  “You got the clubhouse tidy, right? Cleaned up all the gauze packages and all that shit?”

  Rusty nodded. “For sure, Fritter. Tessa and Chloe got rid of it right when you guys came in here.”

  “Good. Thanks, man. Fox is gone, too?”

  Rusty nodded. “You kidding? Tessa was saying it only takes two minutes to get that guy off.”

  Fritter snorted then cuffed him up the backside of the head. “Why the hell are you discussing that shit with the sweetbutts anyway?”

  Rusty turned bright pink under his freckles. “Sorry—I just overheard them laughing about it.”

  Fritter shook his head in disappointment and followed his crew down the hall, only allowing a smile once he was out of Rusty’s view. Then he knocked Knuckles in the arm. “Know what I just heard?”

  Chapter Seven

  Fuck this. Fuck all of it.

  Sharon was pissed as soon as she saw the black vans rolling up on her crime scene, and when some slick asshole in a suit too dark for the summer heat showed her his DEA badge she came pretty close to losing it.

  Donovan Smith assured her their help was appreciated, but they would be asked to hand over everything they had found so far. And they would be debriefed back at their own precinct.

  Interviewed. By these assholes? In her own house?

  Her blood was boiling as the twerp who still had pimples for fuck’s sake cleared his throat continuously in an interview room, called her ma’am repeatedly while trying to ascertain everything they’d missed because they got to the scene so fucking late.

  So late the bodies were already at the coroner’s and the crime scene was all but processed. How handy to show up when all the work was fucking done.

  And yes, they were all fucking men.

  What she knew she told them. No reason to lie, she toed the official line. Van was reported stolen, thirty-eight minutes later it was found on a highway full of bullet holes with one dead body on board. Also on scene: six dead Mexicans and six downed sport bikes. No ID on anyone. Prints were being processed. Why yes, please take those with you as well.

  She had jurisdiction, yes. As Sheriff she could throw them out, but the way they assumed control told her this was cartel and drug shit.

  It still bit her. There had been a major shootout on a highway in her county and she couldn’t do a fucking thing about it. It shamed her to have the thought, but it would have been great for her to handle this and make an arrest of some kind. Hand a criminal over instead of just an entire investigation before the election campaign really started. But they did not have the means to handle this properly. As pissed as she was, handing it all over was the right call.

  So she was stressed about her job and her reputation as she stalked up to the Red Rebels clubhouse, still in uniform, and it was likely a really bad idea to be there but she was so frustrated going home and trying to relax wasn’t an option.

  The prospect, Rusty, kept her waiting outside the door. She’d only been inside once, since her … deflowering, to hand over privileged material to Jayce concerning Gertie and the investigation into who had abused her and the men who had shot his wife. No surprise that she was left out on the baking asphalt to wait.

  McClune stepped through the door, wincing in the sunlight that was just abating as the long day realized it was evening. One eye was nearly closed as he nodded to her. “Sheriff?”

  She ignored the memories, which was an easy task because she had to do it all the time. This was not the moment to react to him like a nineteen year old. “I found Grainger’s van,” she replied, getting right to it.

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. It had a dead guy in it, and there were about a half dozen more dead guys around it. You know what that might be about?”

  McClune didn’t so much as blink, and she marveled at that stone-faced control. She hoped she’d exhibited five percent as much ability with it as Jayce had when those DEA dicks were jerking her around. “Sorry Sheriff,” he replied with the beginning of a charming smile. “That’s bad news. Mickey liked that van.”

  “It’s part of a multiple homicide investigation. He won’t be getting it back.”

  “Well, thank you for letting us know, Sheriff. You could have called; no need to go out of your way.”

  She planted her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. “Fuck you,” she retorted.

  That got a bit more of a surprised reaction. “What?” The door opened behind him and Tank stepped outside as well, standing behind Jayce’s right shoulder. Fritter moved to the opposite side of his President. She ignored him. Hell, maybe she was as good at this as Jayce.

  “I said ‘fuck you,’” she repeated, still managing to block out Fritter. Tank’s response was noticeable though. He made a sound of amused shock which pissed her off more. “Don’t play like I’m an idiot Jayce,” she went on, eyes on his. “I trust you guys to take care of your shit so that no one in Markham gets hurt. I’m looking at a bunch of dead Mexicans in this county and I get nervous that you can’t control this. If bad things are headed our way I want to know right now so I can prepare my officers and deputies to take everything fucking seriously. I don’t want any of my people hurt. And I sure as shit don’t want civilians getting shot because of what you guys are up to.”

  Jayce took a step forward, and it was her first instinct to step back but she held steady. The smell of leather and sweat was on him; that’s how close he was. A memory came flooding back, a twenty-three-year-old Jayce kissing her hard, all over her with just hands and his mouth, and in her inebriated state she had known then and there she was going to like sex just fine.

  That wasn’t on his face now. He wasn’t having the same memory. He had gone stone faced and cold and she tried her best not to gulp as she swallowed her nervousness. “I have no idea what happened on that highway,” he said, low and chilly. “Mickey’s van got stolen, Jolene called it in when she saw it was gone. Do we have enemies? Sure. Same ones as you. We helped you take out that pedo ring a few months’ back, remember? My money’s on them taking the van to fuck with us. Anything that happened after that I have no idea.”

  She narrowed her eyes. When he’d fed her information in the past she’d believed it, just like she had with these Mazari guys. But she’d had that kid they’d saved as proof of
what they were telling her. On this she had nothing.

  She didn’t believe a word of it, not for a fucking second.

  “You can relax,” she replied evenly, proud of her own pissed off but still contained tone. “It’s not my case anyway. It’s been taken over because all those guys, to me anyway, appear to be part of a Mexican cartel. Which means the DEA has taken yet another investigation away from me.”

  “Well that’s good then,” he said with a too-sunny smile as he stepped back. “You’ll have more time for parking tickets.”

  Tank snorted, and she noted that Fritter was looking at his feet without much expression. Whatever. She didn’t care.

  “Next time you need my help,” she muttered coldly, “we’ll just see how that works out.”

  Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the compound. On the way to her cruiser she noted Deputy Sheriff Kerry Troy across the street, leaning against his own cruiser. Her step faltered only a little, then she decided to directly face off against him, too.

  Such was her mood that evening.

  She still hadn’t decided what to think of Troy. She’d known him, of course, the entire seven years he’d spent with the Markham Sheriff’s Department. But earlier that year he’d arrested Trevor Williams, or “Tank,” and then allowed two strangers to be put in the same cell with the Rebels’ VP. She couldn’t see where he’d done anything wrong, and when he’d learned Williams was being assaulted in lockup he’d done everything by the book to stop it and get medical help. But something felt off there and she couldn’t honestly say why.

  “I don’t need a police escort,” she began with, thumbs looped on her belt as she stared him down. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wondered if you’d come here,” he said, head jerking towards the clubhouse. “I was right. Why are you always running to the Rebels when shit goes sideways?”

  She may have been plenty pissed off at Jayce at the moment, but this guy still worried her more. “Sometimes they know things we don’t. Sometimes they can get to people we can’t, Troy. You know the drill, don’t play stupid.”