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She’s not fuckin’ mine, fuckhead.
I let out a groan.
I have to accept it. I have to let this fuckin’ shit go, yet even as I think the words, I know it’s not gonna happen.
Luna is ingrained into my soul. She etched her way in and left a stamp there that is more permanent than any tattoo. I can’t fuckin’ shake her. And maybe I don’t want to.
I stare at Rock and Jett as they run by their findings on the former Devils whereabouts.
I feel a migraine coming on when I think about what’s at stake.
When this fuckface Forger almost took away Indigo’s kid,his own kid,and did so without a single care in the world, it boiled my blood. She almost died.
Harlem and I have a pact that when we find that goddamn piece of shit, he’s ours. And we won’t hold back.
“Did a trace on the plates from the warehouse that night,” Rock says. “Plates were stolen, but interestingly, I was able to follow the car across the city to an underground parkin’ lot. Could be a lead. Can’t promise anythin’. Taken me weeks to even get this far.”
Tracing multiple cameras across town is no easy feat, but Rock is the best in the business.
“Good,” I say. “H and I can check it out.”
Rock nods. “I’ll keep you posted. Footage is hazy, but I’m only a bead away from gettin’ an approximate location. Might be nothin’. Car could’ve been dumped, but even so, there would be footage of the parking lot in the security video, and I can hack into that. See what we can find.”
“Good work,” Harlem says. “Damn shame they put you into jail for this in the first place.”
Rock pops a shoulder. “Don’t think I haven’t been asked to work for the government before. Trouble with doing top secret shit is that you eventually become dispensable. Don’t wanna be the next victim on Crime Busters sayin’ I jumped off a bridge. I’m not suicidal, by the way.”
Jett rolls his eyes. “So dramatic.”
Rock gives me a chin lift. “Just need a couple more days and then we’ll have a location. Aside from that, nothin’ good came out of the prospect. He didn’t know shit, which is exactly why Forger didn’t care if he got captured.”
We caught one of their prospects and beat him into giving us all the information he had, which wasn’t much. Prospects are generally the last to know important shit, but he did give us a location that led to finding the crypt.
Then there’s the intel that Forger and the club had a financial backer. Someone to fund the drug mule business that the club was trying to reignite.
Cleaning up this city ain’t for the faint-hearted, just when you think you’re done, another asshole pops out of the woodwork to finish what another fucker started.
“Sounds like a whole lot of creepy fuckin’ shit,” Harlem grumbles. “Who the fuck would invest in Forger and the goddamn Devils? I get times are tough and all, but nobody in this town would take the risk after what we did to them the first time. They know to stay away from our neighborhood. Startin’ to believe Forger has a goddamn death wish.”
“Desperate men,” I reply, running a hand over my face. “There are many wealthy men in this town with money to embezzle. A one-percent club is the perfect alibi. Good way to hide money, and the club takes all the fall. Sounds like a match made in heaven. At this point Forger would be desperate for cash and will do just about anythin’ for it.”
Unfortunately, money—or lack thereof—tends to bring out the worst in people and their traits.
When Cash formed this club years ago, we were legit from the get-go. We’re a brotherhood and we love riding motorcycles. That’s about as simple as it gets. When Cash and Harlem were in a one-percenter club years ago, a lot of shit went down. Mendied. Some are still in jail. Some lived on the run. That’s no life. I’d never want to live like that.
I like having my freedom. Being locked in a concrete box ain’t in my future. Even though we may do things now and again that involve making men disappear in the Bayou, we are really doing this city a favor of eradicating the vermin from the streets. That’s how I look at it.
Selling drugs and guns is a dangerous game, and our club makes plenty of money with our legit businesses. Hell, I made a bunch of cash when I was playing football.
I didn’t just piss it all away like a lot of athletes do. I don’t need a fancy car or high-priced mansion. My digs are sweet, but I didn’t spend millions of dollars.
I never want to be struggling like we were growing up when my father gambled a lot of our money away after my mom left. Times were tough. His temper didn’t help matters. Unfortunately, that’s one of the traits I inherited from him.
“Got that right,” Harlem agrees. “Makes him a loose cannon. And loose cannons are dangerous.”
Rock twirls a small knife around his fingers like a goddamn expert, and it makes me wonder if he likes knife play. “Trouble is, companies and organizations can hide behind another company or business entity, and so on. Meaning that tracing the person, or persons, can take time, and even then, they can go under an assumed name. Sometimes there are dozens of layers to get through, and there is the possibility it leads to a dead end.”
“Great. So we’re back to square one,” I mutter.
