Chapter 16
16
Jagger
D iesel, Knox, and I gather outside the Hughes mansion. For two days, we’ve been trying to find this Harlan dude to no avail. We were due to confront Marlo anyway. I would’ve liked more ammunition than what we’re packing, though.
“Robyn and Kyra are with Samson,” I tell the guys as we park in front of the massive wrought iron gate and get off our bikes. Beyond the gate, a driveway unravels toward the Hughes mansion—one of Redwood’s precious historical buildings. “The old guy’s keeping an eye on the house. So far, it’s been quiet.”
Knox points to several cars lined up outside the mansion. “By the looks of it, Marlo’s definitely home along with some of her known associates.”
“Our buddy kept his word,” Diesel smiles. “Nobody knows we paid Terry a visit. So far, so good. How are we doing this?”
“Through the front door like normal people,” Knox replies dryly.
Diesel gives him an understandable frown while also checking that his gun has a full clip in it before he holsters it under his leather jacket. I do the same. “No way I’m going in there naked,” Diesel says.
“I’d rather we didn’t have weapons, but I get it,” Knox sighs, showing us his Glock for good measure.
“We’re just talking,” I say. “There’s no telling what their reaction will be.”
Knox flashes his most sardonic grin. “Yeah, especially after the pounding you gave Calvin.”
“Zero regrets.”
“Hell, I’d give you a medal,” Knox says. “It was justified.”
“How’s Robyn handling the whole thing?” Diesel asks.
I offer a shrug in return. “I know as much as you do. She’s keeping most of it to herself as you’ve already noticed. There’s something, though. I don’t know what. I can’t put my finger on it. But there’s something she’s not telling us.”
“We’ll handle it when the time comes. Right now, we’ve got a nasty fish to fry,” Diesel says.
We head to the gate and press the intercom button, our eyes scanning the entire property until someone answers. The Hughes mansion was erected sometime in the early 1800s in lieu of the original settler’s building—they were also Hughes people, but they tore the farmhouse down and decided to go high class after making a fortune from slavery and tobacco. This place carries a heavy, dark, and loaded history.
“Name?” a voice crackles through the intercom.
“Knox. Marlo knows who I am.”
Almost a minute passes in silence, giving me the opportunity to take mental notes of the guards’ positions. They’re all easy to spot—big, burly guys in black suits with necks as wide as redwood logs. They’re all packing as well, eyes constantly darting everywhere. They see us, and I can almost feel the tension tightening their shoulders as the gates open wide for us.
“Alright, here we go,” Knox mutters.
We make our way up the driveway flanked by trimmed hedges and aging oak trees, their crowns thick and spattered in gold and amber. The last of the roses are showing off their crimson petals. Soon, this garden will look naked, cold, awaiting winter’s icy kiss.
The two guards manning the porch come down the steps with hard looks on their faces. I give them a wry smile. “Relax, fellas. You saw the gates open,” I say.
“Still need to pat you down,” one of them replies.
“No need,” Diesel says and lifts his jacket. “We’re obviously packing.”
Calvin walks out the front door. His face is swollen and bruised. I almost feel proud. “No guns in the house,” he declares. “My boys will hold on to your pieces while you talk to Marlo.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound fair,” Knox bluntly replies. “You get to carry while we’re defenseless in there? No. Besides, we’re not here to cause trouble; we’re only here to talk.”
“Them’s the rules,” Calvin says.
“Still quite the smooth talker,” I cut in. “Step the fuck aside, Calvin. The grown-ups need to have a chat.”
He places a hand on the gun holster mounted on his belt buckle. “Honestly, I’m dying to try this new gun. By all means, keep challenging my authority, you piece of shit.”
“That’s brave, considering the makeover I gave you,” I say. “Lose the gun and try saying that again.”
I catch a glimpse of the guards rolling their eyes. Diesel too, and it prompts a hearty laugh from him. “Are you really gonna let this clown call the shots here, fellas?” he asks them. “Calvin fucking Russo is your boss now?”
“He ain’t no boss of mine,” the second goon mutters. “But you still gotta surrender your weapons. You’ll get them back when you leave.”
Knox winces dramatically. “I don’t know, man. I don’t feel comfortable, not here, not with Calvin on the premises. What’s to stop him from seeking revenge after the beating Jagger gave him?”
“You either give us your guns, or you turn around and leave!” Calvin snarls. “Plain and fucking simple.”
A third guard comes out of the mansion. “Cal, stand down.”
“What?”
“Marlo said to stand down. They can come in, weapons and all.”
“Fuck that,” Calvin snaps. “They’re not going anywhere near her until they give me their weapons.”
The third goon exhales sharply. “Try telling Marlo that.”
I can’t help but smile as I watch Calvin struggle. He was so eager to flash his authority in our faces that he forgot he still has a boss. I can tell that Marlo’s people don’t respect him, but I’m also wondering what possessed her to hire him in the first place. He’s a charlatan, a narcissist with a God complex who tries a little too hard to be the smartest person in the room—even though he’s the furthest thing from it.
“You heard the boss,” I say.
“Out of the way, dipshit,” Diesel adds and walks up the stairs first.
Calvin only has a split second to move out of the way. Had he hesitated, Diesel would’ve knocked him down. Knox and I follow Diesel closely while goon number three guides us through the front door and into the mansion.
“You should watch how you talk to me,” Calvin says somewhere behind us. “You’re on my turf now.”
“We know who you are, Calvin, and I am not quaking in my boots yet.”
“Give it time.”
“Oh, enough with the dick swinging,” Marlo says with a laugh as we’re escorted into the living room. She gets up from a giant brown leather sofa, greeting us with a broad smile. “Welcome, gentlemen. I can’t remember the last time I received you in this house.”
“It’s been a minute,” Knox says.
Marlo is not alone. There are two gentlemen with her, both wearing expensive, custom-tailored suits. I’d bet money they’re lawyers because her goons are flanking the living room entrance, looking rough and ready to kill us as soon as we make a wrong move. Granted, we have no intention of pulling out a gun here.
“That will be all for now,” Marlo tells her guests, then shakes their hands and watches them leave.
I look at each as they walk past me: middle-aged, filthy rich, hawk eyes. Yeah, definitely lawyers. The five-hundred-bucks-an-hour type. Marlo is brewing something, and she’ll need all the legal defense she can get. I just don’t want us to get caught up in it.
“So, what brings you here?” she asks, looking at Knox with a warm glimmer in her grey eyes.
“Harlan,” Knox replies.
Marlo seems confused, but it’s an act. “What’s that?”
“It’s a who. He’s one of yours apparently.”
I look over to my left where Calvin hovers like a vulture eyeing fresh kill. He hates my guts. Good. I need him furious and out of control. That’s when he makes fatal mistakes. I’m glad to see prison has only exacerbated his weaknesses. The mere fact that he’s here tells me he’s up to something, and the way he approached Robyn requires swift retribution. The beating was just an appetizer.
“I don’t know any Harlan,” Marlo insists, taking a seat. “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” she says and gestures to another leather couch.
“We’d rather not,” Knox says. “Marlo, it’s really simple. A fella named Harlan supplied a couple of drug runners with Rogue Riders MC patches and an original club vest. That brought the DEA to our door, and as you well know, we’ve been out of the drug business for a long time.”
“Whoa, hold on. What are you saying?” She sounds insulted.
Calvin smirks with perverted satisfaction. “He says you’re framing them.”
“I’m not saying anything like that,” Knox says, giving him a cold glare. “I’m simply saying that a man affiliated with Marlo’s family tried to pin a crime on us, and I would very much like to have a chat with the guy. That’s all.”
“Knox, I promise, I don’t know anyone named Harlan,” she insists. “Not among the people I work with directly. Mind you, I don’t make a habit of memorizing everybody’s name. But I’ll tell you what. I can definitely ask around. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this.”
“I was told he’s pretty high up on the food chain,” Knox says.
“We’ve heard the name before,” I add, “in association with the Hughes family and in a different context a while back. Over the years, actually. Harlan is no stranger to you, Marlo.”
“Okay, now I feel like you’re not hearing me.”
Diesel scoffs. “We just don’t have the time or energy to do this bullshit dance. Tell us where we can find him. There’s no chance in hell we’re taking the fall for something one of your people did.”
Calvin intervenes, asking, “Marlo, do you want me to kick them out?”
She gives him a dry half-smile. “No need.”
“You could still try,” I say to tease him. “I’d love to give you a matching shiner on the other eye.”
“It’s not gonna end well for you—”
“What did I say about all this unnecessary dick swinging?” Marlo says, raising her voice.
For a moment, I feel like a kid about to get sent to detention for the rest of the afternoon. Marlo does have a way of commanding attention and respect or perhaps fear from those around her. Personally, I’m not afraid of Marlo. I only dread what she’s capable of if left unchecked.
“Harlan got his hands on an original Rogue Riders vest,” Knox politely reiterates while I keep an eye on Calvin. Part of me wonders what Robyn saw in him in the first place, but then I remember that we thought he was pretty cool in the beginning too. “And I know he’s doing some kind of work for you. Give him up. I’m not interested in anything else, not even whatever this is.”
“This?” she asks.
He motions around us, choosing to specifically nod at Calvin. “Yeah. This .”
“I’m deeply sorry, but I can’t help you,” Marlo says. “You can ask around if you’d like. I certainly will. But I have zero knowledge of anyone named Harlan among my associates.”
“Your associates,” I repeat after her. “What sort of business are you into these days anyway?”
Marlo gives me a cool smile, red lips parting slowly. “You handsome devils have gone legit. Whatever business I’m into is none of your business. Shall we just leave it at that?”
“We would leave it at that, but we know you’re lying,” I reply.
“I don’t know a Harlan, and if you insist on the matter, I will, in fact, let Calvin escort the three of you out of here—and not in a civilized fashion. Lord knows, he’s dying to get back at you.” She pauses and chuckles softly. “Did you really have to get so rough with him, Jagger?”
“He knew not to get anywhere near Robyn. He paid the price.”
“Robyn is my wife. You keep her name out of your mouth,” Calvin hisses.
“Ex-wife. And she’s got a restraining order against you,” I reply. “No matter how many times you deny reality, it doesn’t change anything. Frankly, I’m not impressed by your presence here either. Whatever you think you’re getting out of this, it’ll come back to bite you in the ass. That I can promise you.”
Marlo scoffs and shakes her head slowly. “Again, like little boys, eager to fight in my backyard.” She looks at me. “Jagger, we go back years. All of us. We’re not children anymore. I cannot help you with anything Harlan related. But should the DEA come by to talk to me or any of my associates, we’ll make sure to keep the Riders out of it. It’s the most I can do while you get your house in order.”
“My house?”
“What makes you think it was some dude named Harlan who got the original vest?” Calvin asks. “What if one of your own precious Riders provided it?”
“It could’ve been you,” Diesel replies, testing him, although he already knows it wasn’t Calvin’s vest.
“You burned mine.”
“Ah, you remember,” I chuckle.
But the look he gives me sends a shiver down my spine. “You should know… with enough cash and the right artist, anybody can reproduce a Riders jacket.”
“Nunzio confirmed it’s an original,” Knox says, though it’s not exactly the truth.
“So what if one of yours gave away his original for the drug run and is now walking around with a flawless copy on his back, huh?”
Shit. We didn’t consider that possibility.
Then again, we screened our club members. None of them gave us any reason to be suspicious. They all had reasonable alibis. We’ve yet to verify everything, though. Maybe we should if only to stop giving Calvin reasons to grin at me like that because my knuckles are dying to meet his face again.
“If that’s all, gentlemen,” Marlo says. “I have more meetings scheduled for the rest of the day. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, Marlo,” Knox says. “We’ll get to the truth sooner or later. You’d better pray it doesn’t lead us back to you.”
“Was that a threat?” Calvin asks.
For the first time, I see an ancient fire burning in Knox’s otherwise sunny blue eyes. I see the promise of violence and death glaring back at Calvin, and I almost feel sorry for the fool. If there’s one thing I’d never wish upon my worst enemy—it’s Knox’s dark side.
“If I were you,” he tells Calvin, “I’d be more careful with my choice of words. Working for Marlo doesn’t grant you any kind of immunity, not as far as I’m concerned. And I’m not above putting a cap in your ass to prove a point. Jagger used his fists. I’ll use a 9mm and call it a day. Don’t fuck with me.”
“Whatever.”
That was purely for the sake of having the last word. I can smell the fear on him again.
Marlo waves us away with a nonchalant flick of her bony wrist. “You know the way out, fellas. Don’t make me ask you again.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell her, then turn around and head for the front door.
Passing the bodyguards, I can almost feel their deadly intentions. They don’t act on any of it, but I know they’re perfectly capable.
This doesn’t feel like a win. It doesn’t even feel like a step in the right direction.
Calvin’s glare doesn’t wear off until we’re back outside, getting our bikes ready for the road. We don’t say a damn word for what feels like forever. I check the brakes on my Harley and make sure everything is the way it’s supposed to be; I don’t put anything past Marlo or her people. As soon I stick the key in the ignition, however, Knox clears his throat, demanding my attention.
I look up. He’s smiling.
“What the fuck are you so jolly about?” Diesel asks for the both of us. “Marlo didn’t give us anything in there.”
“Oh, she gave us something,” Knox says.
“Enlighten me,” I reply.
“She didn’t even deny involvement in drug runs. She mentioned our legitimacy, our decision to keep the club on the straight and narrow, but up until not that long ago, Marlo was making herself out to be more or less the same, an honest businesswoman, a pillar of the community.”
I exhale sharply. “Not a word of that today.”
“Precisely. And of course she wasn’t going to give up Harlan. Why should she? I’m willing to bet Marlo’s involved with that incident somehow. Either she was buying that dope, or she was having it transported from one of her partners in California,” Knox says. “In fact, I’m going to raise it. I’m almost positive she’s looking to rebuild the drug running routes, and she’ll be more than happy to see the Riders burned down in the process.”
Diesel nods slowly. “Where does Calvin fit into the picture?”
“Carrion. He’s out of prison. Dirt poor. Humiliated. Itching to get back into the game and likely shares her desire to destroy the MC,” Knox suggests. “They’ve got plenty in common to make the partnership work. On top of that, Calvin has inside knowledge of the club, our creed, and operations, of how we run things. He’s useful to her, for now anyway.”
“And she’s got the money he needs to be the badass drug lord he’s always wanted to be,” I mutter. “That’s a match made in heaven.”
“It doesn’t bring us anywhere closer to Harlan,” Diesel says.
“No, but it does tell us more about who our enemies are,” Knox says. “There’s a reason Marlo keeps booking her nail sessions with Robyn and why Calvin waited over a month to approach her. They’re working up to something, and we need to figure out what sooner rather than later.”
I don’t like this one bit.
The vultures are circling. Someone smelled fresh blood, and now…
They’re out to get us.