Chapter 6
Chapter Six
My vision began to swim, the letters on the pages blurring into a muddy haze. My back ached from hunching over the table the night before. I’d slept for only a few hours before waking again and posting all the evidence on my wall with pins—a puzzle of brothers and broken loyalty.
My front door flew open, slamming the wall behind it. “Knock knock, motherfucker.” Hatchet strode in with a steaming coffee and a pink box from Maisie’s. The scent of fresh donuts and cinnamon rolls wafted through the room.
Reaper followed close behind with two coffees. He handed me one as his eyes skimmed the wall. “Fuck me, Merrick. You look like you’ve been up all night.”
Hatchet snorted. “Told you he’d have a wall like he’s on CSI.”
Reaper shrugged. “CSI: Outlaws. I’d watch it.”
I took a long sip of coffee, the heat searing my tongue, before walking them through everything I’d discovered: inconsistencies, suspicious credit card charges, phone calls, and text messages to unknown numbers. The evidence was scattered.
“Everyone’s still a suspect at this point,” I admitted, rubbing my temples. “But I’m narrowing it down.”
Hatchet flipped open the box, the scent of sugar and fried dough filling the room. He grabbed a glazed donut, devouring half of it in one bite.
“So, what’s next?”
“I had Linc pull records for anyone who’s been a failed prospect or hangaround for the past five years. He also pulled together information on the sweetbutts, but they don’t have access to enough dirt to be a valuable CI.”
Reaper nodded. “Good thinking.”
I pointed to a picture of a former prospect. “I’m sure you remember Danny. After we stripped him of his patch, he was arrested. Assault charges, among a few other things. He did a little time, but he’s already been released. That’s exactly when the feds like to swoop in and make a deal.”
Hatchet smirked. “Danny in the clubhouse with the candlestick. You might just win this game of Clue after all.”
Reaper tilted his head. “Considering the beating you two gave him after he touched Eva, I’d think he’d want as much separation from the Mavericks as he can get.”
“Or he’s pissed enough to want to bring our entire club down. Maybe he wants payback. He bitched to his buddies that he got kicked out of the club because of a woman.”
Reaper rubbed his jaw. “You think he knows enough to hurt us?”
“Not as much as a fully patched brother, but enough. He went on a few runs. And if he’s working with the cops or feds, they could be feeding him info. Using him to build a bigger case.”
“Maybe,” Reaper mused. “Let’s grab him today and take him to the junkyard. If I remember right, he works third shift at the factory off Bowles. He should be off within the hour.”
I grabbed my cut and keys. “Let’s go.”
Hatchet grinned as he cracked his knuckles. “It’s going to be a great morning.”
A few hours later, my tools lay spread before me, gleaming under the dim junkyard warehouse light. Pliers, a blowtorch, a bone saw, and my favorite blade. I ran a finger down the flat side, the textured metal cool beneath my touch.
Danny strained against the zip ties securing him to the wobbly metal chair. The duct tape over his mouth muffled his pleas. At first, he’d claimed innocence—even after a few punches to the face left blood pouring from his nostrils.
“Let’s try this again,” I said, peeling the tape back just enough to reveal his split lip. “Who are you talking to? Is it the Texas Rangers? Or the FBI?”
He spat blood onto the concrete. “I told you; I don't know anything about—”
Hatchet’s fist cracked into his nose before he finished. Cartilage crunched, and crimson blood streamed down his chin. “We won’t ask again.”
Still, Danny clung to his lie, his eyes tight with anger and defiance.
Hatchet’s phone rang, and he grinned as he silenced it.
I reached for the blade, its polished surface glinting under the dim light. I traced the flat edge along Danny’s cheek before gripping his wrist and positioning the knife above his hands.
“Going to be hard to work at a factory without any fingers.” I slowly pressed the sharp edge onto his skin. He shrieked as flesh and bone gave way.
“We’re going to repeat this nine more times before I move on to your ears.”
“Feds!” Danny choked. “They cornered me after my arrest. Let me out in exchange for information.”
I left the pinky finger hanging from his hand by a shred of skin and stepped back, wiping his blood off the blade on my jeans. “What’d you give ’em?”
“Runs I rode on. Hangouts. Some supplier names. The warehouse location.”
“Which warehouse?”
“The one off 3083.”
Reaper let out a slow, controlled breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
That one was full of fenced vehicles picked up in the Woodlands—hot bikes and cars that could be broken down and sold quickly.
But the real prize, the warehouse on County Line Road, still stocked stolen military-grade weapons.
Thankfully, the prospects weren’t privy to that location.
“That’s all?” I asked, my tone sharp.
“That’s all, I swear,” Danny whimpered. “They wanted more, but I didn’t have anything else to give. They asked if I could get back in the club, but once I explained why I was kicked out, they cut me loose.”
A sudden ring cut through the thick silence. My phone, perched among the tools of my trade, lit up with Kenna’s name.
Hatchet’s eyes shifted to mine. “She just called me, too. Maybe something’s wrong.”
I glanced at my blood-spattered hands. “Answer it,” I gruffed. I didn’t like that she’d called Hatchet before me.
“Hello?” Hatchet said, pressing the phone to his ear.
I couldn’t make out all the words, but the hysteria in Kenna’s voice was unmistakable. Hatchet’s brow furrowed as he toggled the phone to speaker.
“… can’t get a hold of Eva because she’s in a meeting, and I can’t get home because my keys were in my purse. I need someone to get the spare set from my house so I can drive.”
“Slow down. What happened? Where are you?” Hatchet asked.
“I’m in downtown Houston at the police station. Wait, Hatchet? Is that you? I thought I called Merrick.”
“Merrick couldn’t answer, so I picked up his phone. He’s standing right here. You’re on speakerphone.”
“What happened?” I growled, my tone rough.
Kenna’s voice trembled. “I was mugged. The guy ran off with my purse. I’m sorry. If you guys are busy, I can wait for Eva to get out of her meeting later this afternoon.”
“No,” Hatchet said. “I’m on my way right now to pick you up. I’ll be there in thirty.”
“OK,” she said, her voice breaking as Hatchet ended the call and set the phone back on the table.
He gave my blood-spattered clothes a once-over. “I think it’s better if you finish this. I’ll go pick her up.”
I nodded. “I’ll meet you at the clubhouse later.” I drew my silenced Sig Sauer, ignoring Danny’s pleas. “Are the feds getting information from anyone else?”
“I think they have someone in the club,” he stuttered, “but I swear, I don’t know who. No one talks to me since I got kicked out.”
I tilted my head, hearing the truth in his tone. “Then we’re done here.”
I squeezed the trigger, and the gunshot blasted through Danny’s skull.