Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Hayden. Shit is going down,” Moira barked out.

The deputy sent back an unexpected reply. “More than what Tex has uncovered?”

As intriguing as that statement was, details would have to wait.

“Yeah. Margaret’s in trouble.”

Hayden had met the older woman numerous times, and they’d hit it off.

“Tell me,” Hayden snapped, the worry evident in her voice.

“She called me in a panic. Two MC members were at her door, trying to break in. I told Margaret to head to her root cellar out back, but I don’t know if she got there safely or not. Then, before I could contact you, I received a call. It was the new LT, Mick’s voice, I’m pretty certain, and he said they have Margaret; that I’m to come alone or they’ll kill her.”

“Well, shit.”

Moira could tell Hayden was instantly on the move.

“Where’s your team?” Hayden clipped.

“On a robbery call-out, over an hour north of here.” Moira didn’t have to explain why she wasn’t going to alert and reroute them. Hayden knew that when SWAT was called in, it was always an emergency.

“Okay. Boone and I are headed your way. What’s the plan?” Hayden asked.

Moira breathed out a sigh of relief. One person backing her up was good; having two people on her six was better than she’d hoped for.

But as to Hayden’s inquiry…?

Moira hadn’t had a chance to think about anything past making sure that Margaret was okay. She needed a strategy that would keep everyone safe.

“One question before I answer that.” An outline had begun to form in Moira’s head. “Does this new intel from your man Tex have Gladstone, Pickenstahl, and Murphy involved with the MC?” Moira asked, already out the door and heading toward her truck.

“Gladstone and Murphy, yeah. Both have unidentified cash deposits made into their accounts—Gladstone’s being much larger—that are concurrent, and the drops coincide with the robberies you previously uncovered,” Hayden shot back. “Nothing definitive on Pickenstahl, however.”

Moira pondered. “But the evidence against the sheriff and Murphy is circumstantial, and won’t stand up in court.”

“Exactly,” Hayden huffed. “Tex is digging for more.”

“Then it’s decided. I’m going in wearing a wire,” Moira declared. “I’ll get that asshole, Mick, to spill his guts while thinking he has the upper hand.”

“Moira,” Hayden argued. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea. What happens if he just takes you out before you can get him to talk.”

“Remember Gladstone’s phone conversation?” Moira reminded her. “He told whoever was on the other end of the line, that when they ‘fixed the problem’ they had to ‘make it look like an accident’. If I’m that problem, which I think I am, Mick’s not going to shoot me, outright.”

“You’re betting your life that you’re that problem,” Hayden countered. “How about this, instead. We all enter from the back of the property, checking the root cellar to see if Margaret is okay. Then we go in with guns blazing…so to speak.”

Moira knew Hayden was speaking metaphorically. None of them condoned needless death, but still…

God, Moira loved a fearless partner, but Hayden wasn’t going to dissuade Moira from her course of action.

“Hang on, Hayden. Give me a minute to gear-up, then I’ll tell you the rest of my plan.” Moira was playing for time until she had her arguments in order.

Moira reached her truck and opened the back door. During her surgery-related down-time, she’d restocked her go-bag, and it now held everything Moira needed for this unofficial op. She pulled out a recording device with its wires, then swiftly and expertly attached it to herself. Once it was secure, she donned her vest, slipping it over the apparatus with only a modicum of discomfort from her ribcage. She then strapped her shoulder harness over the whole thing and holstered her Glock.

Damn , it felt good to be back in the saddle, but Welker was going to have a fit once he found out what she was doing

She couldn’t let that distract her now.

Once she deemed herself ready, Moira got in the truck and started it up. “You still there?” she asked.

Hayden replied immediately. “Yup. Just waiting on you to tell me why you’re putting yourself in danger.”

Moira dropped her truck into gear, and took off, giving Hayden her reasoning.

“We need solid intel that Gladstone is involved in this up to his eyeballs, and we also need to know why. What’s his game?” Moira had her suspicions that it involved not only money, but perhaps the unsolved death, seven months earlier, of one Deputy Alstead. “I aim to get answers, then shut this whole fucking thing down, putting Gladstone’s ass in prison where it belongs.”

Hayden gave a loud sigh. “What do you want us to do, then?” she asked, not happy, but clearly agreeing.

“First thing, you’re going to check the root cellar. Make sure you have your ear-comm in so you can let me know if Margaret’s there and okay.” Moira smacked her head. She’d given Margaret instructions…

“Dammit. She might not come out, because I told her to wait for me.”

“That’s okay. We can deal with that,” Hayden assured her.

Moira had no doubts.

“If she’s safe,” Moira continued, “then I can concentrate on the two MC perps.”

“Got it. What else do you want us to do?”

“I don’t suppose either one of you has a sniper rifle on hand?” Moira asked.

Hayden gave a wicked laugh. “I might.”

“I knew I liked you,” Moira responded with a chuckle. “Okay. Once those MC assholes think they have me, I’ll make sure they take me out the front door to follow through with whatever it is they’ve decided is their end-game. There are only two of them, and I’ll be able to take care of one.”

“Which means?” Hayden asked.

Moira cleared things up. “I want you to incapacitate the taller of the two, while I concentrate on taking out the other guy.” Moira was confident of her hand-to-hand skills, as she’d have to be, because at that point the perps would most likely have her disarmed. The only thing she worried about, was a possible muscle reseparation when she got physical. Still, she’d have to risk it.

Hayden gave her hope. “I can do that. And while I get a bead on the tallest guy, I’ll have Boone poised, closer to the house. Once my guy is down, hubby will move in to help you.”

It sounded good, but…

“Nope. Don’t risk your husband, Hayden.” As much as Moira relished the back-up, she didn’t want to gamble with her new friends’ lives. “He’s not a cop.”

Hayden guffawed. “Nope. But he’s a bad-assed rancher, and believe me, he’s wrestled and roped enough steer that he’s not intimidated by a mere human.”

Moira actually laughed, picturing Boone taking out the MC pricks with a lasso. She’d have to trust Hayden’s judgement on this. “Okay. Tell him I won’t underestimate his abilities.”

Hayden relayed the message, then snorted. “He thanks you.”

“Right. Like he needs an ego boost.” Moira might be in love with Welker, but she wasn’t blind. Boone was one hell of an able-bodied male, and gorgeous to boot. That cowboy hat alone…

Moira coughed, cleared her mind, and got back to the business at hand. “How long before you’re on premise?”

“ETA, four minutes,” Hayden replied. “We’ll park around the bend right before Margaret’s house, then head through the woods toward her root cellar.”

Moira did some quick calculations. She was only a couple minutes behind them. “Let me know the second you leave your vehicle, and I’ll time my arrival at the house to coincide with when I assume you’ll reach Margaret.” She wanted to make sure the two MC goons were suitably engaged watching her pull up, so they wouldn’t be paying attention to anything in the back yard.

“Ten-four,” Hayden sent back. “And Moira. Be careful.”

“That’s the plan,” she replied.

They disconnected.

Moira drove until she spotted Hayden’s car pulled off to the side of the road. She turned in and idled behind it. Time seemed to tick slowly, but Moira was counting down the last few seconds to when she’d figured she should leave, when her phone rang.

Hayden.

Moira held her breath and picked up.

“We got to her quicker than expected, but Margaret’s safe,” Hayden assured her. “She won’t come out until she hears your voice, but I can tell she’s relieved. Now it’s up to you.”

That intel, delivered so quickly, would mitigate the need for an ear-piece. One less thing to worry about the bad-guys smashing.

“Okay. I’m headed in.” Moira pulled her truck out, and slowly approached the house. She could see the curtains in Margaret’s front hallway part, then quickly drop back into place.

That’s right, assholes. I’m here , Moira said to herself.

She drove up the driveway, parked, then slowly emerged, her hands in the air.

Margaret’s front door opened, and…

“Well, well, well,” Moira tsked and shook her head. “If it isn’t the president-wannabe of the 227 MC. How’s that working out for you, Mick?”

“Shut up, bitch. And drop the gun.” His own firearm was in his hand, pointed directly at her head.

“Nope. I want proof Margaret is okay, first,” Moira demanded, putting her hands down, widening her stance, and crossing her arms over her chest in a position of power.

Mick shook his head and snarled. “You get nothing, cunt, until you come in the house. And I ain’t letting you in with that gun.”

It was a standoff of sorts, but what Mick didn’t know, was that Moira was playing a role. She plastered what she hoped was an indecisive look on her face, then gave a huge sigh, lowered her arms, and unsnapped her holster. She took out her Glock and slowly bent over to put it on the ground. While she was down, her phone rang again in her pocket.

Huh. She’d already heard from Hayden…

“That’s my phone,” she told Mick.

“Don’t even think about answering it,” the man sneered. “Take it out and lay it next to your gun.”

Moira withdrew it and looked down at the screen.

Shit. Everlee.

The woman was going to assume something was wrong, and rightly so, when Moira didn’t pick up. She’d probably think Moira had suffered a relapse or something, and would go directly to Welk, who’d also try calling her and getting no answer.

But…

Ever, always level-head, would call someone nearby to check on Moira, and since the team was all engaged, the only reasonable person to hit up would be…Hayden.

Okay. The team—along with Welker—would almost immediately get an earful from the woman about Moira’s current situation. But there was nothing they could do about it. By the time they mobilized to get back to town, the whole thing at Margaret’s should be wrapped up. At least that’s what Moira hoped.

She tossed her device to the ground by her weapon, and straightened up. “Now what?”

“Now, you walk into the house, where Pidge is going to pat you down. Then we’ll let you see the old lady before you, me, and Pidge go for a ride.”

“Where to?” Moira asked, scowling but moving unhurriedly forward.

“A nice, remote place,” Mick smirked. “A waterfall, actually.” He warmed to his story. “You were bored because your team was out of town, so you went sightseeing, and…oops, you lost your footing and fell in, hitting your head in the process.” He shrugged gleefully. “The autopsy will eventually determine whether you died of blunt trauma or drowning. Not that it will matter. You’ll be dead.” Mick laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever uttered.

Moira narrowed her eyes and focused on one aspect of what he’d said. “How do you know my team is out of town?”

Mick laughed. “Who do you think lured them away?”

“A fake robbery,” Moira hissed. Whoever was orchestrating this had a bigger brain than Mick’s, that was for sure.

“Yup. With all our people long gone from that scene by the time your piss-ass SWAT team arrived.”

That had to be why Ever had just called. To fill Moira in on the call-out being a false alarm. Would they have their suspicions that it had all been a diversion to get them out of town? Moira wanted to snort. If they hadn’t figured it out already, when Ever called Hayden, the team would get an earful.

She posed a second question.

“How did you know about Margaret’s house?”

“We’ve had it under watch since the old broad bought you all that bird-shit.” He sneered. “We staked out the store, thinking you or your boyfriend would be in, and we heard the old bitch talking about you, and knew we’d scored. We screwed up, not jumping on that right away, then had to wait until you’d recovered enough before we lured you in.”

Mick looked at his big, pretentious watch. “Enough talk. We haven’t got all day. We need to be done with this by the time your posse gets back.”

Moira made it up the steps where Mick yanked her inside, slamming the door behind her.

Moira spied Pidge, then played dumb, plastering a worried look on her face as she glanced around. “Where’s Margaret?” she demanded.

Mick laughed, uproariously. “Not here, you dumb fuck. She never was.”

A loud, flatulent noise sounded from the other room and they all turned.

“What was that, then?” Moira wanted to laugh. She knew exactly what it was as Mick and Pidge both grimaced toward the living room.

“A fat, farting dog,” Mick snarled.

“Can I kill the fucking thing, Mick. Please?” Pidge pleaded.

“No.” Mick put a stop to Pidge’s plans, which was good. If he’d given Pidge the go-ahead, Moira would have had to intervene. There was no way Moira would allow Lady Guinevere to be harmed. She was such a big marshmallow.

“We were never here, remember?” Mick continued. “Just…breathe through it.”

The smell that wafted their way was enough to make Moira’s eyes water, but …

While the assholes had their backs turned, Moira reached up under her vest and activated her recording device.

Good girl, Guinie.

That pup—and her bad-guy distracting ass-ammo—would be getting treats for life.

Mick and Pidge both brought their attention back to Moira.

“Pat her down, Pidge. Make sure she hasn’t got any more weapons, then use these to tie her up.”

Mick tossed Pidge a pair of zip-ties, and Moira barely kept the grin off her face. Seriously ? Those would slow her down for approximately one point two seconds.

As Moira figured, Pidge wasn’t very thorough, concerned more with her ankles where she might be hiding a knife, and then her crotch area because…well, clearly the guy was a pervert. But once he was finished, he at least hadn’t found her wire.

Which meant it was time to get some info.

“Why all this, Mick?” Moira posed. “You trashed my house. Didn’t that prove to your club that your dick is big enough to take Tormentor’s place?”

Mick’s face soured. “It should have been, but because your nose is too big, someone above Tormentor wants you dead, and said it had to be me doing the deed.”

“Ahh. I’m stepping on someone’s toes, huh?” Moira smirked. “Does this hit, perchance, have anything to do with me shutting down your lucrative Bar Harbor gig?”

“It might,” Mick grunted as Pidge secured her wrists…in front of her, the idiot.

“You’re a smart man, Mick,” Not . “Did it occur to you that if you kill me, this anonymous boss will have evidence to put you behind bars for the rest of your life?”

Mick grunted, clearly having considered it.

Moira turned the screws a little more. “Right. So think about this, Mick. Right now, you’re only on the hook for breaking and entering Margaret’s house. Nobody can prove you trashed my place, and you haven’t murdered anybody. Yet.”

Moira let that sink in.

“Tell me, Mick. Why didn’t Tormentor cop to a plea deal and expose this man at the top when he was being charged? Had he, perhaps, committed a murder for which he could be given a life sentence should that information leak out?”

“Damn, Mick. She’s smart,” Pidge said. “I think?—”

“I don’t care what you think,” Mick snarled, cutting him off. “We get rid of this bitch, and we’re golden again.”

Moira laughed. “If you believe that, you’re delusional. You’ll eventually be found out. My SWAT team will determine my death was staged as soon as they examine the evidence.”

Mick leered. “Your SWAT team won’t be called in, and they won’t see a fucking thing. The Sheriff’s Department will be in charge of the investigation.”

“Really? Like in the case of Deputy Alstead’s death?” Moira prodded, putting a smug look on her face. It was all or nothing, now.

“She’s too smart, Mick,” Pidge whined. “If her friends are like her, we’re screwed.”

When Mick didn’t automatically shut Pidge down after that comment, Moira turned her attention to the looser-lipped man.

“You’re right Pidge. You’ll both be screwed. So, who wants you to kill me and take the rap? Who had Tormentor kill Alstead?”

Come on. Come on. All I need is a name .

Mick looked at Pidge, Pidge looked at Mick. Then Mick hardened his jaw and shrugged, facing her with a definite false bravado. “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you know. We’re killing you anyway.”

“Really? You’ll take that risk?” Moira puzzled.

Mick looked conflicted for a second before straightening his shoulders. “Yeah. Sheriff Gladstone has a lot of power. He’ll protect us if we follow orders. If we don’t do what he wants, he’ll shut us down for good, or make us disappear.”

“Mmm. Gladstone,” Moria looked thoughtful. “What’s in this for him?” she asked nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t all that interested.

“Money,” Pidge revealed. “He was getting a big cut of the take from what we stole in those houses.”

“And he had Deputy Alstead killed because the deputy found out about it?” Moira wheedled.

“Yeah,” Pidge confirmed. “The guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He heard Gladstone talking about that shit with Tormentor, and when Gladstone found out, he had the boss and some of the crew drag the guy out of town, and beat the shit out of him until he was dead.”

Moira wanted to snarl at Pidge. He’d talked about Alstead dying like he was mentioning the movie line-up at the local cinema. But…

Just a little more .

Moira swallowed down the bile that had filled her throat. “So a month later, when my father made a huge political stink about the robberies continuing, Gladstone put me on the case to assuage him,” Moira guessed.

“Yeah. Your old man said you should be the one to investigate shit.”

That was news to Moira, but considering her father’s odd behavior; visiting the hospital and calling her every day, maybe he was trying to mend fences.

Mick was still talking. “…the sheriff never thought you’d solve anything. He said you were a stupid bitch,” Mick snickered.

“And I proved him wrong.” Moira skewered Mick with a hard look.

“I guess you did,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “But what it meant was that Tormentor had to take the heat and go to jail for the robberies. If Pres hadn’t agreed to that, Gladstone said he had plenty of evidence from the murder scene of that deputy to put Tormentor away for life.”

“So, why are you going to kill me?” Moira asked.

“You’re in the way of business,” Pidge said. “Gladstone wants back on the gravy-train, so you’ve gotta go.”

“Where do Pickenstahl and Murphy play into all this?” Moira made it sound like she was just curious.

“Pickenstahl?” Mick scoffed. “He’s not involved at all. He’s just a dick. But Murph… He’s one of us. Gladstone hired him and has him set to ‘take over the investigation’ of any future Bar Harbor shit once you’re gone and we’ve started up again.”

And there it was.

The entire, sordid plan, all on tape.

Now all Moira had to do, was play her cards right and get out of this, alive.