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“A.J.” I lifted my chin to the guy at the end of the table. He was the newest member of the executive team of the Sinners. A.J. was a smart bastard, a good earner, and had played pro football for two years before his knee blew out. He and his wife had been trying for a few years to get pregnant. A few months ago they had gone the invitro route and now she was pregnant with twins. It had been a high-risk pregnancy, and the brothers had had a fundraiser last month to help out with medical bills. She was due any day now.
“Brought you here for counsel. I’d like your take on a couple of things, brother.” Deke told him. “And that’s where it ends. No one here doubts your loyalty, your balls, or your commitment to this club. But right now, your place is with your woman.”
“I appreciate that,” A.J. said and no one thought less of him when they heard a measure of relief in his voice.
“This is a big one, boys.” Deke’s tone was sober as he closed the meeting. “Might want to take a look at your legal documents, and make sure your stuff is in order before you report back on Thursday. Anything you need before then; you know where to find me.”
Liddy
AP: A shootout occurred on Saturday, June 19 in front of Dos Amigos restaurant where over one hundred motorcyclists were present. Members of the Hells Saints and Silver Sinners returned fire after being shot at by the Horned Devils, Los Diablos, and several other Latino gang members. Nine bikers were killed, 18 others wounded, and 177 individuals were ultimately arrested and initially detained in connection with the shootout, most for alleged participation in organized crime.This major single act of violence has been followed up by other smaller incidences in the southeast. The battle for control has sent the cartel and MC world into a tailspin of violence, murder, and mayhem.
It was all over the news. The tape was played and analyzed by major news broadcasters throughout the nation for days. Betty and I watched the shootout over and over again on the internet pausing at various moments to try and decipher faces and forms. It was a horrible time of sleepless nights, where I tortured myself with all thewhat-ifsandshould-have-donesplaying over and over again in my mind.
On the third day after the shootout Kid called just before sunrise. I picked up on the first ring. The conversation was short, to the point, and meant to be reassuring. I was so relieved to hear his voice, I didn’t even ask any questions. I just clung tight to my cell and breathed for what seemed like the first time in forever. I was filled with love for Kid and gratitude to the universe that he was safe and sound and that I hadn’t lost him to a violent and painful death. All my questions, misgivings, insecurities, and righteous anger just vanished in the air and were replaced by a love so deep that I felt it in my very soul. Once the very real possibility of losing Kid had hit me for real, all the lingering doubts disappeared, and I was ready to go home to my man and commit hook, line, and sinker.
So, when Kid told me that the worst was over, that everything was going to be fine and that it was safe for me to come back home. I, of course, believed him.
Kid
Trafficked
I had been stabbed, beaten, shot, and had a gun put to my head more times than I could count. I had tortured, maimed, murdered, and committed acts so heinous that they had made me doubt the existence of my humanity. I had been consumed by murderous rage and filled with evil intent. But there wasn’t anything in my whole damn miserable, fucked up, black-hearted life that could compare. Not one damn thing that could come even close to the way I felt when I heard the word…trafficked.
Jules Bonny. The best of the best of the best. He had been a member of the Hells Saints longer than I had been alive. Bonny was a legend in Outlaw Nation. He was a tech genius of the highest caliber and had spent years honing his skills. It was rumored that his work with law enforcement, as far-reaching as Interpol, was responsible for the hands-off policy that the Saints had enjoyed for years.
And now Jules had come down from his castle on the hill to help us find out what the hell had happened to Liddy.
And I was grateful as fuck. I was.
But still, that hadn’t stopped me from leaping across the table and putting my hands around his twenty-inch neck when I heard the wordtrafficking. I was pretty sure that I had been on my way to collapsing Jules’s windpipe before my father tore me off him and Jules, the big fucker, never even flinched.
“Sit your ass down, Kid!” My father pushed me hard into a chair.
“Fuck you, Deke.” I snarled out, but I stayed where I landed.
My hand shook as I reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat on the table. I downed three quick shots because god knows that I needed the bracing burn. When I reached to pour myself a fourth shot, my dad shoved the bottle out of my reach. “You gonna want to keep a clear head, Kid.”
But Jules reached out and pushed the bottle right back in front of me. “The man wants another drink, he takes another drink.” Then he looked at my dad and growled in an apologetic explanation. “This ain’t going to be easy to hear.”
My dad put a strong hand on my shoulder and squeezed just like he used to do when I was a kid and something bad was about to happen…like the time we put our dog down or when I had to have a tooth pulled at the dentist. It was Deke’s way of showing me that whatever happened I was not alone in it. I felt a burn start in the back of my eyes that had nothing to do with the booze that I had just downed.
Jet pushed several manilla envelopes across the table. As Deke and I tore open the clasps Jules explained. “We’ve got three names. All of these fuckers operate their enterprises subversively and under a serious umbrella of non-touchables. We are talking black holes here. These networks are so deeply buried that even I had a hard time foraging them out. And they’re underground for good reason. The stuff these pukes are involved in is deep, despicable shit.” He spat out in disgust.
“We’re looking at the Carnuto brothers, Paul Marlino, and the Latin Jackals for this.” Jet went further to explain. “The Carnuto brothers are big in the film industry. Real deal snuff, child pornography, bestiality. Makes my skin crawl to even give a name to the fucked up shit they do.”
“Jesus Christ.” Deke muttered while I fought to keep the acid that was tearing a hole in my stomach from shooting out of my mouth and landing on the floor. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and took a long gulp of the ice-cold bottled water my father put in front of me. My big hands shook as I held the pages of information and tried to clear my mind of the red rage that was threatening to take me under.
“There’s enough chance of involvement that I brought their name forward, but I don’t think they have Liddy.”
“Why not?” I asked even as a cautious sense of relief almost brought me to my knees.
“Not their style and we would have heard from them by now. Fuckers are all about the money. They would want to see if we could make bringing Liddy back worth their while.” Jules said.
“Next up we have Paul Marlino,” Jules said. “His organization deals mostly in hired assassins. Weapons deals, mercenary shit, and some human cargo. Cargo is only a small part of their business though, and we know they’ve had some trouble with the mercenaries and money laundering. They also deal mostly with south-of-the-border shit.”
“I don’t like them for this.” Jet shook his head.
“Jules?” I volleyed my head from Jet back to Jules.
