Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Rigs

Instead of going back to the clubhouse, we stop at the local pub for a bite to eat. Once we are sitting at a quiet table in the corner and have given our order, Mattie gets the conversation ball rolling.

“What if Evan was kidnapped and instead of reporting his abduction to the police, his former case worker and his foster father arranged for a fake transfer?”

“Yeah, I see where you’re going with that.” I respond. “But in order for that to work they would still have had to have another accomplice at the facility he was supposed to be admitted to, right?” “Yeah, that’s a lot of people all conspiring together to make one teen disappear. Maybe it’s like Strawn said, Evan ran away. I guess it’s possible that his case worker and Strawn didn’t want to get blamed, particularly if there was abuse going on. The foster father could have been prosecuted and the case worker could have lost his license.”

“That still leaves a third conspirator at the long-term care facility,” I point out. “Why would they risk their job by participating in such a farce? Unless they are related to Strawn or the case manager, I can’t anyone getting involved in covering up the disappearance of a teen.”

Our server brings our food and drinks. I take a sip of my iced tea as I roll the situation around in my mind. I know Mattie is doing the same.

Her face lights up, “Don’t you think it’s strange that the case worker from CPS ending up leaving around the same time Evan went missing?”

“Yes. It’s suspicious, though there might be an explanation for it, like with Winslow. We need to track that person down and have a talk with him.”

Mattie asks, “What if the case worker and the employee at the long-term care facility are one in the same person?”

“I read the file. The CPS case worker who collected him was Charles Boyles and the man who signed at the care facility was an Alvin Clarke. There were no photographs, but the names are different,” I point out, before taking a gigantic bite of my bacon cheeseburger. The food is really good here and I’m starving.

“Yeah, but names can change, we should get Zen to check them out. See if he can pull ID photos or something,” she insists.

Without giving me an opportunity to answer, she continues. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from dealing with people, it’s to never underestimate the general stupidity of people trying to cover up a situation they’ve screwed up. I’ve had employees tell whoppers to get out of being terminated. All our case workers are licensed. If their license got suspended for gross negligence, they wouldn’t even be able to earn a living, put food on their table or keep a roof over their heads.”

“Alright, sugar. I’ll admit that’s a possibility. But wouldn’t the employee still have the same social security number, driver’s license number and still own the same vehicle?”

She grudgingly nods. “He might trade out his vehicle in an effort to get rid of a link to his former life. But the social security number and driver’s license number would remain the same. Unless they got a fake ID, but I don’t know how easy that is in real life.”

I had been eating throughout her entire explanation and throw the last bite of burger into my mouth and wash it down with another drink of tea. “We’ll have Zen look into it. A thorough background check should tell us if there are commonalities in former addresses, schooling and even if the name on their professional license changed in the last year. It’s a longshot but definitely worth looking into.”

“Thank you,” she says with a brilliant smile.

“What about his case supervisor at CPS, you said she left too?” I ask.

“Margo Cummings? She’d been with us for ages, I think she started at the agency around the time Anita was there.”

I take another mouthful of sweet tea, “Yeah, but my money is still on Evan being kidnapped rather than running away. The syndicate has been way too interested in you. I think it might be because your investigation is getting a little too close for comfort.”

“Well, they already know that Cleo and I are associated with the Savage Legion. They know your club is responsible for bringing down their regional kingpins. They know for sure that Cleo was working to find the missing kids, because she and Siege actually recovered one child. And if they were bugging my apartment, they would have heard Cleo and I discussing the cases.”

“Something about this doesn’t feel right to me though. I get the feeling we’re overlooking a critical piece of information, maybe something that would lead us to the person in charge of the whole operation. We need to find out who’s in charge before he begins setting up new regional managers or moves business elsewhere. Right now, their organization is hobbled and that gives us the advantage. My gut tells me that window is closing.”

Mattie puts her half-eaten turkey sandwich down. “I think we need to clarify something here. My primary focus in on finding the missing children, not figuring out and taking down the leader of the syndicate.”

I open my mouth to object to her train of thought, but she lifts her chin in way that communicates that I should not interrupt her, so I don’t dare. “I’m not saying that taking down the syndicate should be put on the back burner until the kids are found because then I’ll just be chasing new missing kids when they reorganize. But I can’t stop now, when I’m so close.”

“I didn’t say you should stop, but my club is dedicating a lot of manpower to taking down the syndicate. I can’t turn my back on that mission.”

That’s fine,” she shoots back. “But you called me up out of the blue and volunteered to help me with my mission. Are you banking out on me?”

“No, of course not. I’d never let you down. I agreed to be your protector and to help you find those kids. That’s exactly what I intend to do, but I’m also looking for Pope.”

“Good,” she says. “Just so you know, if our missions turn out to collide, as far as I’m concerned, it will be a happy coincidence.”

“So if we stumble on a lead, you’re not adverse to us following up if it’s time sensitive or passing the information to my club president if it’s not, right?”

“Absolutely, I want to see that bastard behind bars as much as anyone else. I just don’t want to get to pulled away from locating and rescuing kids.”

“Alright, sugar. We’re in agreement.”

“I’m pleased you’re still going to be helping me. Truth be told, I’m not sure I can do this without you.”

I lean over and give her a kiss on the forehead.

My phone jingles. It’s Siege, so I answer right away. “What’s up, boss?”

He responds quickly. “We need you at the bar in town. Hellfire Hounds is shooting up the place and Mel got injured. How close are you?”

“I’m only a few minutes away but I’ve got Mattie with me.”

“I hate to say this, but leave her where she is and get to the bar. You’re the closest brother to right now and Mel’s life may depend upon you getting there ASAP.”

I press my lips into a firm line as I think it over for a minute or two. I don’t want to leave Mattie’s side when those syndicate bastards are after her—but my club needs me, and she’ll be safe here. “Alright, I think she’ll be okay in a public place for a while. I’ll head to the bar right away.”

“We’re on our way, so you’ll soon have backup.”

The phone goes dead as I get to my feet. “Sorry, sugar.”

Before I can finish Mattie shoos me away with one hand. “Go ahead. I heard what Siege said. Go save Mel, I’ll be right here when you get finished.”

I hesitate for just a second and glance around the restaurant. “Okay, just don’t leave. As long as you’re in a public place, you should be safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Any trouble, call me.”

Without waiting for her to reply, I rush out of the restaurant, jump on my bike and head to our club’s bar about five blocks away. I have a concealed carry permit and am always packing.

***

When I pull up at the bar, I see five motorcycles. A couple have Hellfire Hounds panted on the fuel tank. Thankfully, their club president’s bike is not among them. I would recognize King’s bike anywhere because it has a crown logo embroidered on his leather seat. It looks like Siege was right about who was causing trouble. The blinds are pulled down and the closed sign is showing in the door. Fuckers. They had better not have hurt our favorite bartender.

I run down the side alley and use my key to get in through the back door. I can hear someone grumbling and breaking bottles in our basement. I rush forward and gently close the trap door in the floor, then throw the lock. I’ll deal with that dumbass later. Assuming the number of bikes match bodies that one of five down.

I slide into the kitchen, and the door to the walk-in freezer is standing wide open. I can hear someone rummaging around inside. These stupid fucks are making it easy for me today. I sneak across the room, shut the door and lock it. I turn and head toward the bar, making a mental note to pull him out first so he doesn’t freeze to death. That would definitely play havoc with the health inspectors, not less poor Mel when she went to grab some frozen fries.

I peer around the corner and find one guy with his gun lying down on the counter and his back turned to me. He’s so busy pilfering money from the till, he doesn’t hear me approach. He only realizes I’m behind him when I snatch his gun up at the same time as my fucking phone jingles. I press the nozzle of my gun into his back, right about where his heart is. “Freeze, you stupid fucker, or I swear to God I’ll blow a hole right through your chest.”

He freezes all right, right after he screams at one of the two men hovering over Mel. “Heads up, Scrapper. We have an intruder.”

Both of them spin around and go for their guns. I shoot one with my hostage’s gun as I grind my gun into the man I have pinned between me and register. Fucking bastards, that’s what I get for not blowing the asshole’s head off the moment I saw him at the till. Before I can take aim at the other man he goes running right through the front door, tearing it off the hinges in his panic to escape my dodgy left-handed shot. His buddy is on the floor, and I missed him by a mile. Back in the old days we’d shoot first, ask questions later, but now we try and keep the bodies from piling up in town.

“Was that Scrapper? If so, he can run pretty fast. He almost left a man shaped hole in the door on his way out.”

“Fuck off. King is going to put your nuts in a vice for shooting Squirrely.”

I shove his gun in my waist band, grab him by the neck and start frog marching him into the bar area. “Scrapper, Squirrely? What chicken shit doles out names at your club? Let me guess, your club name is Squiffy?”

“Fuck all the way off. I’m not telling you a damn thing,” he gritted out.

Using the butt of my handgun, I hit him on the back of the head, hard enough to make him see stars. “That’s all right. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

While I’m zip tying the small-time man of mystery to a chair, the one on the floor groans and tries to sit up. While I can punch a man out with both fists, with guns I was a strictly right-handed shot. Mel flies out of the chair they had her cornered in and kicks him in the head, sending him back to la-la land.

“Damn girl, are you okay?”

She’s holding one arm against her body, but I don’t see any blood. “They broke my arm. It hurts like hell. I need to get to a doctor, right goddamn now.”

“Siege is on his way. The second he gets here, we’ll take you to the emergency room.”

“No getting fixed up by Doc, right?”

I shake my head as I tighten the last zip tie. “No man, only the best for our favorite bartender.”

She stumbles over to me and plops down at a nearby table. I had to admit, she looked pretty exhausted. “It looks like I’m going to be the fucking one-armed bartender for a while.”

I drag the guy I shot up from the floor and rip off his shirt to use as a compress to stem the bleeding from his stomach. Gut wounds are hell. I need him to live along enough for Siege to interrogate him. Once I hand him over, he’s no longer my problem.

I tie the shirt down firmly with my belt and zip tie his feet together and his hands in front of him because I’m not an irredeemable bastard.

I wipe the blood off my hands on a pile of napkins sitting on another table. I squat down in front of her. “You sure it’s broken, girl?”

Her jaw is locked but she nods and shifts uncomfortably in the seat. “Yeah, it feels awful.”

I go over the bar and grab a tablecloth, rip it into wide pieces and then find a zipper bag and shovel a couple of scoops of ice into it. Returning to Mel, I lay my supplies on the table and break open a plastic napkin dispenser to use as a splint. “I’m going to splint your arm because when you move around if it’s not stabilized it might do more damage. Is that okay?”

She gives me a weak nod. “Yeah, just do it already.”

It was kind of obvious where the bone was broken, so I fit the two plastic pieces on either side and began wrapping the dark blue tablecloth strips around it. After I gently tie it off, I make a sling to go around her neck, seal the ice bag and lay it against her arm with my blood-stained fingers. It’s not the first time I’ve done field first aid on someone I know, and sadly I know it won’t be the last.

Just then Siege, Tank and Dutch come storming through the door with their guns drawn. Siege takes one look around the room and asks, “What the fuck is going on here? There are four bikes outside and I only see two Hounds.”

I stand up and gesture toward the door. “There were five of them but one got away.”

“Clearly. He tore the fucking door off the hinges.” I grumbled.

“What about the other two?” Siege says, looking around at the damage.

“Oh fuck,” I said as panic surges in my chest. “I locked one in the walk in. He’s probably a popsicle by now.”

As Siege, Dutch, and I run to the kitchen, Tank stopped to see to Mel. “Just hang in there, girl. We’ll get you out of here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” I heard him say.

She choked out a laugh. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

I open the door to the walk-in and look inside. Sure enough there was a Hound and he was shaking on the floor. “Let’s get him the fuck outta here.”

Dutch and I get on either side of him and do a two person carry. Once we get him out to the front, he’s zip-tied to a chair like his buddy. I grab a couple of tablecloths and wrap them around him.

“What’s this? Pitying the bastard?” Tank says.

I shake my head. “Not after what they’ve done to Mel. But if we want to interrogate him it’s no good if he’s got hypothermia.”

Turning back to Siege, I say, “The other one thought it would be a great idea to pilfer through our stock room.”

“Let me guess, you locked him down in the cellar, right?”

I rub the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed. “Well, it was five to one and I definitely wasn’t trying to make easy things hard.”

“I can see that,” Siege says as he unlocks the lock using the key I left in place.

He calls down. “Look, I don’t know which Hound you are, but all your buddies are dead, injured or ran away like the yellow-bellied cowards they are. You need to come out with your hands in the air because if we have to come down there and drag you out, we’re gonna shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Fuck off, assholes,” is the only response we get.

I frown at Siege. “That’s all these fuckers ever say and I’m about sick of it.”

Dutch shouts down at the man, lying his ass off, “Look you fucking imbecile, there are a dozen of us up here and more on the way. You don’t have enough bullets to shoot your way out of this situation. Get your ass up here before you piss us off entirely.”

“Fucking fine. I’m coming up.”

“I want to see your hands in the air, and I better not catch sight of a fucking gun.”

“You won’t. My club will pay a ransom for me. I’m important.”

When his head pops up, I almost laugh. It’s a kid, probably not even eighteen, with dark hair and brown eyes. “That’s strange. You don’t look important,” I comment.

Siege grabs him by the hand and hauls him to his feet. “He is to King.” Glancing to the kid he asks, “How’s your grandfather these days, Gene.”

The younger man flashes him a proud smile. “I got patched in. My club name is Tracker.”

“Ain’t that special,” Siege flings back. “Want to tell me why you and your buddies broke into the Legion’s bar and hurt our bartender?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t my idea.” When none of us replied, he adds, “It was all Scrapper. He said if we fucked up the Legion’s bar everyone in our club would know we have balls of solid brass.”

Siege promptly knees him in the groin and the kid doubles over in pain. I have to admit I saw that one coming. The kid shoves himself up from the floor still grimacing. “Yeah, I guess I deserved that one.”

“Which one of you broke our bartender’s fucking arm?”

The kid looks absolutely disgusted. “That was Squirrely. I don’t think he meant to. He’s just big and doesn’t know his own strength.”

“Well, he ended up with bullet for his trouble.”

“Shit, we need to call my grandpa and get Squirrely to our club medic.”

Siege looks him in the eye. “Son, it’s a gut wound. He’s gonna need a real ER and very soon, or things are going to get ugly for him.” Siege glares at me, “Why did you shoot him in the gut? You need glasses, old man?”

I glare back at him, “I had one gun on the idiot who was rifling through the till, I had to shoot him left-handed. And none of that old man shit, I’m only ten years older than you.”

There’s moaning coming from across the room, so we stop our good-natured ribbing and look.

“Shit, can I go ahead and call an ambulance?” Tracker asks, looking panicked.

“Negative. Your club is not going to want the cops arresting the lot of you, and if you go to jail, I can’t pick you up every now and then and beat on you for a while. Do you catch my drift?”

Tracker nods. “Yeah, every time we listen to Scrapper and something bad happens my old man says it’s the worst decision of my life. He’s definitely going to say that again.” Tracker scratches his head and adds, “This was an apeshit crazy idea even by Scrapper’s standards and we were stupid for going along with him.”

“Yeah, you were.” Siege’s arm bolts out and he grabs Tracker by the collar of his worn-out t-shirt. “Here’s how we’re going to handle this. We’re going to drop you and Squirrely off at the ER along with another of your guys who accidentally got locked in the freezer too long. You’re going to tell them that Squirrely was cleaning his gun and accidentally dropped it and shot himself in the gut. I don’t know, maybe while you were trying to get him sorted, your other friend accidentally locked himself in your club’s freezer unit.”

“We don’t have freezer big enough for a person to fit in,” Tracker points out.

Siege gives him a little shake. “Pay attention. It doesn’t matter what you tell them as long as they buy that it was an accident. If you’ve been drinking tonight that will help sell the story.”

“Got it. Man, shit just got real.”

I watch as Siege explains the consequences for this young man. “You and your friends cost me a good bartender. You’re going to make that up by tending my bar every single night until she can return to work. If that doesn’t happen then we come for your old man and grandfather first. Got it?”

Tracker nods grimly. “Yeah, I got it.”

Siege adds, “And don’t be showing up at my bar in a Hellfire Hounds cut.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell King that this is the price of keeping the lot of you from being arrested for breaking and entering and battery of our bartender. Our security cameras picked up everything. It’s how we knew to come today.”

The kid immediately looked around suspiciously. “We didn’t see any cameras.”

“I’ll send King a clip later to verify. Meanwhile our van should be outside by now. Tank will be taking our bartender to the ER. Don’t sit by him, talk to him or even acknowledge him. Alright?”

“Yeah, I get what you’re laying down. You’re almost as much of a hard ass as my grandpa.”

“I’ll take that as a fucking compliment. Now get your ass moving.”

The kid jogs out to the bar area and the moment he is out of hearing range, I comment, “That sounded like you’re trying to make nice with Hellfire Hounds. What’s going through your head on this one, boss.”

“Nothing close to a truce with the Hounds, that’s for fucking sure. We don’t have time for a pissing contest with King and his club over honor and pride stuff right now. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. Our attention needs to stay firmly on tracking and fucking destroying the syndicate leader. That has to be our one and only focus. We can deal with the Hounds any old day.”

“Smart move. “I need to get back to Murphy’s. I don’t want Mattie being on her own too long, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks for jumping up and coming here on such short notice. It probably saved Mel from a lot more pain and misery.”

“Happy to do it. Do you need me to lock the bar up?”

“No, you get back to Mattie. I’ll take care of the bar.”