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And that meant this shit was not going to be easy.
Because organized enterprises didn’t just let someone break into their building, steal from them, then walk away free.
Not only that, but they knew she was aware of at least one of their illegal activities.
They wouldn’t let that stand.
“Fuck,” I hissed, waiting for Donovan to make his way out of the store, but unlike the guys scoring drugs, he had a plastic bag instead of paper.
Interesting difference.
As soon as he was close enough, he shook his head at me before getting into the car, and tossing the bag at me.
“That was the least hideous thing I could find in there,” he said, leaning his head back on the rest, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, then declaring, “You’re fucked.”
“Yeah, I am starting to come to the same conclusion. What did you see?”
“A drug front,” he said, shrugging. “Four guys in the front. Way too many for a small shop. All the shit they carry is cheap, too. Gold plated. Chips of diamonds. Overpriced as fuck, which likely helps all the drug money seem legit since they don’t seem to sell much. They were pushy as fuck. Felt me out twice about drugs. In a discreet way, so I acted dumb. Just a tourist who wanted to appear like a high-roller while on vacation.”
“Smart,” I said, checking out the chain with an eagle hanging from it. “Wow, this was the least hideous thing in there?” I asked, shaking my head.
“Believe it or not. It’s a seedy-looking place, too. Old glass cases. Heavy-traffic, office-type carpeting in a speckled gray and red color. Wall is sporting images of people wearing ugly-ass jewelry. There are two doors. One on the right wall that leads to a filthy bathroom, and another that leads into the back room.”
“Lark said they came through that door to find the built-up lower level.”
“Seems right.”
“Do they seem to have any clear affiliation? Italian? Cartel?”
“No. If anything, they’re just a thrown-together looking group. Maybe high school friends or something like that. Definitely not one of the big organizations, but seems to have their own hierarchy.”
“Well, it could be worse, I guess.”
“But mid-level organizations are also notoriously paranoid and violent,” Donovan said, having been involved with the underground for most of his life, even if he’d only ever been involved with street racing before joining up with us. He’d rubbed shoulders with all sorts of criminals in that world.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Did any of them look like they’d been recently mauled?”
“Yeah, actually. He was brooding in a corner with gauze taped on his neck and arm. He also had a brace on his other forearm and hand.”
“From Lark running over him while she peeled off,” I said, exhaling hard. “Alright. Thanks, man. Got something to hand off to Arty at least.”
“Sorry it isn’t better news. But it seems like the women who become involved with this club never have easy problems to deal with.”
That was fair enough.
I guess I didn’t have to feel too bad about it, then. We’d all needed to help out with Harmon and Sass and Shy. It would likely happen again in the future as well.
Besides, I meant to try to handle this myself anyway, if possible.
“You want me to drop you back at the clubhouse, or do you want to sit on the place for a while?”
“Can’t imagine I’d learn more than Arty could tell me. And Lark, for that matter. Sounds like she was watching the place for a while before she moved in.”
With that, we headed back to the clubhouse.
I did another trip out with the dogs, checked water and food levels, then grabbed an extra helmet, and headed out on my bike.
“Come on. Go pee-pee,” Lark’s voice cooed as I climbed off my bike, making me turn to head toward the backyard, finding her behind the wrought iron fence with the un-scarred male dog from the night before. “Come on. You can do it,” she added, voice high and cheery, but if you listened closely enough, you could hear the slight edge of frustration. Likely there thanks to a day cleaning up accidents without the right supplies. And aching ribs.
