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“Are you arresting me?” she tested.
“Not yet, but I’m detaining you for further questioning.”
“I want to call my lawyer,” she demanded. A stray tear escaped from the corner of her eye.Damn you, Ayden!This had to be him. How he did it, she didn’t know. But if it was the last thing she ever did, she would find a way to prove it.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
GROWING CLOSER
San Antonio, Texas
Tuesday Evening
Corbett lookedaround the custom bike shop. He was still having a hard time getting past the fact that Ayden owned this place. He had never been here, having used a Harley dealer online to get all of his parts when he was restoring Stella. This place was something else, though; they had parts for just about every bike ever made, as well as three bays for restorations and five for repairs.
He stood upstairs in an office with a large glass partition that looked out over the shop and the bays the mechanics used. The office was colossal, with two large desks and plenty of professional looking office equipment. Even Mick looked small sitting in it. Corbett would have never figured these guys for being so business savvy. As soon as they had arrived, Mick had gone straight to the refrigerator in the office and grabbed two beers. He gave one to Corbett then opened one for himself as he slunk down into one of the chairs. As Corbett stood looking out at the activity going on downstairs, he was somehow reminded of theWizard of Oz. He’d watched that movie a lot as a kid. The people downstairs were busy polishing things and making them shiny while the Wizard sat up here behind his smoke screen and pulled their strings.
Just as he had that thought, the door to the office opened, and in walked Christopher Ayden Styles. Corbett tried not to show his disbelief. As of the time he’d left San Antonio this morning, Ayden had still been enjoying the facilities at the Bexar County Hotel, awaiting trial. Naomi must have done a bang-up job in court this morning.
Corbett looked at Mick. He wasn’t surprised. That must have been the phone call he had taken on their way back to town earlier. Ayden and Mick hugged, and then Ayden grinned and held his arms out to Corbett. He hugged him, thinking he now knew what it was like to hold the devil.
“Ah! It’s good to be home,” Ayden gloated, holding out his arms and looking around the office. “Sit, both of you. Tell me about the meet.” He went and took a seat behind the big desk.
Mick set the black duffel bag on the desk in front of his boss and sat back down in his chair. Ayden opened it and pulled out one of the bricks, packaged tightly in clear wrap. He put it to his nose and closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent. As far as Corbett knew, packaged cocaine didn’t smell like much, unless you were a German shepherd, but Ayden seemed to be enjoying it. He finally put it down and said, “Did the Mexicans give you any trouble?”
Mick made a noise; Corbett wasn’t sure if he was trying to say something or if he was adjusting something in his tight jeans.
“Mick, I’d appreciate it if you saved your grunting for the animals,” Ayden told him. “Use your words, like your foster mama taught you when you were twelve.”
“They were little smart-assvatos,” Mick said at last. “But once I told them I didn’t want any shit, it went okay.”
“So their boss didn’t make an appearance?” Corbett couldn’t tell if Ayden was happy or not.
Mick didn’t speak. He shook his head, and as he did, Corbett watched with horror as crumbs from what he could only hope were his most recent meal flew out.
Ayden smiled. “I didn’t think he would. Last I heard, the fat bastard was holed up in some shithole of a house in Brownsville.” He looked at Corbett then and said, “So Caleb, what do you think of my little place here?”
“It’s damn impressive,” Corbett praised. Unfortunately, he was being honest. It was sickening sometimes how decent people scraped by while pond scum lived among the elite.
“It’s my pride and joy,” Ayden said. “Did Mick show you around?”
Corbett looked at Mick, who grunted again. “Um, no, sir. We haven’t been here long,” Corbett told him.
“Come with me,” Ayden said. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Corbett followed Ayden down the stairs to the ground floor. Mick stayed behind in the office, obviously tired from his day of strenuous activity. Ayden took him to the parts room first. It was spotlessly clean; none of the parts, even the ones stacked on shelves or hanging from the walls, had a speck of dust on them. The munchkins must be very interested in keeping the Wizard happy, Corbett thought. He took him to the restoration bays next. There must have been half a million dollars’ worth of Harleys and equipment in there. When they moved on to the mechanics’ bay, again, the price on the equipment had to be a hefty one.
“How long have you owned this place?” Corbett asked.
“I bought into it about eight years ago. It was an established business; the guy just needed an investment partner, or so he thought. It’s a different place now than it was then—because of the improvements I’ve made.”
“So, does your partner handle the day-to-day operations?”
Ayden laughed. “No, I actually got lucky and the old bastard died of natural causes about five years ago. I bought out his kids a few years after that, so now it’s all mine. I’ve got some pretty decent mechanics working for me, and my restoration guys are geniuses. The daily operations I handed over to my brother Wesley, who was worthless for any other purpose. It turns out, though, that he had a head for business.”
As they headed back towards the stairs, Corbett caught sight of something that piqued his interest—a large vault under the stairwell. It looked like a giant metal gun safe.
Corbett tossed his head in that direction and said, “What’s in there, the armory?” and then he laughed like it was a joke.
