Chapter 11
11
Knox
“ S hit’s getting real,” I tell the lieutenants as soon as we’re all gathered in the upstairs office. My stomach churns as I say words I’d hoped I’d never have to say again. “The DEA is looking to burn us. We can’t let that happen, not after all the hard work we put into turning the MC legit.”
I get a flurry of nods and murmurs of agreement from the six men present.
Jagger and Diesel keep exchanging glances while Samson and Paulie stare at the desk. Jonas and Pedro are the youngest in our crew. They weren’t even prospects when we kicked Calvin out. Back then, the club was still cutting ties with the Hughes family, so they don’t remember life in the Rogue Riders when we were still running drugs and guns for various gangs in the region. But they’re also the most motivated to make sure we keep things that way.
“I joined the Riders because you were doing solid business,” Jonas says, his jaw muscle ticking furiously. “Supporting the local economy, giving people jobs in a time when jobs were hard to come by.”
“We’re still doing that,” I say.
“Then one of us went off book,” Jonas replies.
“Or it’s a con,” Samson cuts in. “Someone using our patches to throw us under the bus. As far as I know, we’ve got good men and women running this club, fellas. We’re all making good money out of it while feeding our passion for hogs and the open road. This doesn’t feel right.”
“So you think we’re being framed?” Paulie asks with a furrowed brow. “Why does it seem so strange that one of our guys might’ve done some moonlighting for a drug dealer?”
“I’m not outright rejecting the premise. I just find it hard to believe,” Samson says, giving him a hard look. “Remember how thorough we were with the background checks on everybody after what happened with Calvin?”
“He was a liability from the moment he joined the club, and it only got worse after we kicked him out,” I remind them, leaning back in my seat. I don’t feel comfortable in this room anymore. Something’s changed. My haven has been marred. “But he wasn’t even the worst of us. We kicked several members out after he went down for manslaughter.”
Diesel nods once. “And we recruited new folks with clean records. People who believed in our mission, who wanted something better for Redwood and the entire fucking district. We’ve got deputies and former Federal agents within our ranks, man. Who could’ve done this?”
“They need to analyze the patches on that vest,” Pedro cuts in, thumbs already tapping on his phone. “I’ve got a buddy in the DEA’s Portland field office lab. I’ll send him one of our own for comparison. And if they can’t hack it, Jonas has friends at Quantico. Someone’s gotta be able to tell us if the patches are original Rogue Rider stuff.”
“The best they can do is identify the artist who made them. We still need to do the legwork,” I tell them. “At the end of the day, anybody can reproduce the patches if they want to. Most people know it’s a dumb thing to do, but if their goal is to fuck us over, well…”
“What do we do then?” Jonas asks.
I gaze out the window for a moment. I think I liked this office better when it was just us and Robyn. The door locked. Making crazy love and ignoring whatever was going on outside of this room. The real world is calling, though. And our ability to protect Robyn, to be with her, depends on our ability to protect the club from the incoming shitstorm.
“Jonas, Pedro, you two ride out and find Nunzio Davila,” I say. “He lives in Portland. Samson will fetch you the details. He’s the one who designed and custom-made every single insignia and patch for the club.”
“Nunzio was made an honorary Rogue Rider forty years ago, when our fathers revamped the club and the logos and everything.” Jagger nods in agreement. “If anybody can tell us something, it’s him. I know he keeps a record of every patch he’s ever made, including the newer batches.”
“We only saw the patches when Spalding brought the vest over,” Diesel says, then looks at Pedro. “You need to talk to your DEA lab buddy, have him send you some high-definition photos of the vest and the patches so Nunzio can see for himself.”
Samson gets up from his armchair. “Knox.”
“Yeah?”
“Talk to your pappy. Tell him what’s going on. He might have some insight. The old wolf may be retired, but if I know him as well as I remember, he probably has his ear to the ground.”
“That’s a good idea. Anything Hughes-related, at least, he’ll know about it,” I say. “There’s something fishy going on here. There’s a connection we’re missing. Willard Hughes ran a tight ship, and it took us a long time to tear it down. Whoever’s still pushing drugs in the region, especially across the California border, they’re doing it with some help from at least one pawn in the Hughes family. Marlo can pound her flat chest all she wants. I know she’s itching to get her daddy’s business back to its former glory.”
Diesel scoffs. “And given how it ended between us and her daddy—”
Samson cuts him off. “Willard Hughes is dead and buried.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if this drug transport was Marlo’s doing is all I’m saying,” Diesel says. “She certainly wouldn’t waste an opportunity to frame us while she’s at it.”
“We should talk to Marlo too then,” I reply.
Jagger shakes his head. “Not yet. If we reach out now, she’ll know we’re rattled. We gather as much intel on our own as we can, fellas, and then we see what the next steps are. In the meantime, I suggest we do a thorough check of every club member’s whereabouts over the past week. We also need to find out who the so-called Rider is that the DEA arrested.”
“We need to get into that holding cell,” Diesel says.
“With Spalding itching to slap cuffs on us? Good luck with that,” Pedro says and chuckles dryly.
I slap the desk, prompting everyone to look at me. Tension fills the room, the air thickens until its weight is unbearable. “I’ll reach out to my father. Pedro and Jonas, handle Nunzio. Samson and Jagger will check the MC members one by one until we have a clear timeline for each of us. Paulie, you keep an eye on Robyn and Kyra. It’s just as important that they’re safe,” I say. “Diesel, do you have a couple of outside fellas to do a little bit of reconnaissance for us with the Hughes family? Maybe they can go in, buy something, see what their movements are in and around Redwood.”
“Doable, yeah,” Diesel says.
“One thing is certain,” I reply, looking at each of my lieutenants. “It took a lot of work, a lot of time, and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to pull this club out of the gutter and turn it into what it is today. We can’t let anybody destroy everything we’ve built here. Not the DEA, not Marlo Hughes, not anybody.”
“And if we do, in fact, have a shitbag in our midst, we’re going to find out and punish him accordingly,” Samson growls. “I am not retiring to prison because one of us got stupid and greedy. Did Spalding give you the name of who he arrested?”
I shake my head slowly. “Nope.”
“I’ll make some calls. We’ll find out.”
Diesel frowns slightly. “I don’t think he’s an MC member. We would’ve heard. Same goes for the prospects.”
“Yeah, but remember we’ve got about a hundred riders now and not all of them come through the clubhouse on a regular basis,” Jagger surmises.
“Let’s roll out then,” Jonas says, grabbing his helmet and keys. He’s the first out the door, followed by Pedro, Samson, and Paulie.
Diesel and Jagger stay behind for a hot second, each of them giving me a curious look.
“Are you okay, brother?” Jagger asks.
“I’m pissed,” I say. “Someone’s trying to take down the club at the same time Calvin’s out of prison. Call me paranoid, but I’d bet this entire fucking clubhouse that this is not a coincidence.”
Diesel shrugs. “I’m not even going to argue with you there. If there’s one thing the three of us learned a long time ago, it’s that coincidences are never really just that. We’ll turn over every stone, Knox. The truth is out there.”
I just hope we get to it in time.