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Everything about Doherty’s demeanor illustrates a man under tremendous stress. I almost feel for him, except our problems are so intertwined at this point that I don’t have enough bandwidth to feel anything except annoyance for his lack of action.
“Speaking of that asshole, where is Santos?” he adds.
We all three do our best to look normal and calm and unbothered as Ace shrugs. “Got away. Shouldn’t have let the prospects watch over that silver-tongued shit stain. We’ll find him, and you’ll be the first to know,” Ace lies easily to protect the MC.
Doherty nods because other than the whole cops and criminals thing, he has no reason to distrust us, at least, none that he can confirm. “Another fucking thing,” he growls.
A car door closes in the distance. None of us think too much of it since the club whores and girlfriends all drive cars, but some type of awareness comes over me. I stand a little taller, my senses on overdrive.
“I fucking knew it,” a slightly pissed voice says from the side of the building. A man in jeans and a t-shirt appears. Immediately, I know who it is. He’s one of the cops trying to take us down.
I step in front of my Prez and glare at the man. “Do you have a reason to be on private property, Briseno?”
He grins at me and then Doherty. “I always knew the old man was on the take, but this? Doherty on the payroll of a local biker gang? That’s a headline that won’t go away for weeks. Possibly months.”
Shades lunges toward the slick patrolman and gets in his face, towering over him by at least five inches.
“We don’t work with coppers, so I suggest you get back in your fucking car and get off my property before I shoot first and ask questions as I bury your fucking body.”
Briseno’s thick brows shoot up behind his over-styled hair.
“Threatening an officer? I could slap cuffs on you right now.”
Shades looks over his shoulder at me and then Doherty, laughing. “Officer? I don’t see an officer. I see a petty motherfucker with too much gel in his hair, no badge, no patrol car, no indicators of law enforcement at all. Asshole.”
Doherty grabs Shades’ shoulder and gives him a gentle shove back. “I’m looking for Hector Santos, executing a search warrant.”
“Here?” Briseno is incredulous, shaking his head in disbelief. “And you came here?”
“Who would know his whereabouts better than the men he’s determined to take down?” On the surface, Doherty seems like the goofy sort, but the man sees more than he lets on, says very little, and is a damn good lawman. “What are you doing here?”
Briseno frowns, his mind on earlier information, giving away more than he realizes. “Warrant? I didn’t see an active warrant for Santos?”
Doherty nods and strokes his chin. “That’s funny because you’re a patrolman, and you don’t get to see or know anything about warrants until you run a name in the database. There a reason you’re digging into Santos?”
Briseno’s eyes go round and wide. “Other than he’s a notorious criminal? None.”
“On your day off? I find that hard to believe.” The Sheriff is calm, almost cool as he lets his subordinate keep pushing that line.
“Cut the shit, Doherty. You’re working for the Reckless Souls, and these fucks have done something to Hector. I know it. He hasn’t been seen by anyone for at least a few days.”
The man is shaking, and I wonder if he’s genuinely worried about Hector, or if Nogales is tightening the screws.
“What do you know, old man?” He pulls out a black-on-black gun and aims it at the Sheriff.
In an instant, Briseno finds himself with three guns trained on his head. Doherty is the only one without a weapon in his hand, and he steps forward, not between the two factions but close enough.
“Listen, Antonio, there’s no reason to go this route. If Hector is missing, it’s my job to find him.”
“No!” Briseno’s eyes are wide, and his hand is shaking. “They have him. They know where he is, and you’re protecting them.” His dilated eyes and twitching gun hand tells me all I need to know about how he got mixed up with the Iron Kings.
“You’re a goddamn junkie,” I say and tighten my grip on my gun. “Hector isn’t here. We were just telling your boss the same fucking thing. It’s time for you to go.”
Briseno shakes his head again. “I ain’t going nowhere until you tell me where he is.” He swings the gun back toward Doherty and repeats the question.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out or was anyway until you showed up. Now I have to convince these guys not to put a bullet in you.”
“That’s not fucking good enough! I need to know where he is. Now!” He adjusts his grip, and his index finger slips between the trigger guard.
