Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
By the time I parked in front of the clubhouse, I was seething.
Of all the neighbourhoods in Sandstone that Braxton could have lived in, he had to occupy a house right down Liam’s street.
Did I want to read something into that? Of course.
Did I actually think the location of his residence was nefarious? No.
The whole time I knew him as Axel, we didn’t talk that much. However, on the odd occasion when we talked, Liam was never part of that conversation. Liam’s safety was of the utmost importance to me. We made sure he knew how to protect himself if need be, but he was supposed to be far away from any of the situations where he could be required to shoot to kill.
I pushed the door of the clubhouse open. Nodding at the bouncers, I headed towards my office. Weaving my way around the tables, I made my way through the crowd of people next to the bar. Archer glanced up from the bar, nodded and then returned to serving drinks.
He was doing well since he showed up, which made me think I needed to talk to Liam again. It was almost time for us to test him in a real Reaper situation. Liam should know if there was something out there that would work as a test for our newest recruit.
We didn’t have a registered phone number or a dedicated line for people to call because that was another way for law enforcement to trace our organization. Until recently, we found most of our clients and marks through normal channels. We used the news and word of mouth for situations that were already in motion. Then sometimes the people who needed our help actually had the balls to walk through the door and ask us in person.
Surprisingly enough, that had happened on a couple of occasions, and with the most unlikely of individuals. Sometimes we even completed pro bono contracts. For some of our contracts, we exchanged a simple favour. We weren’t heartless, but in this world, everything came at a price.
We had to eat.
Over the last couple of years, we modernized how we helped people and made our money. Liam and I were the masterminds behind this endeavour. I came up with the idea and he put his programming to use and made it come to fruition. It might have been my obsession with crime television, but I knew there had to be another way to find jobs. Liam created a couple fictitious forums and developed a program to scan the dark web and gather intel on future clients or potential victims of circumstance.Once I was seated at my desk, I pulled out my phone and called him.
“Long time no talk,” he answered.
“You did a full background on Braxton, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Of course. Why?”
“When I stepped through your gate, he was standing there waiting for me on the sidewalk.”
“What?”
“How did you miss that?”
“According to my search, he lived in the far northwest.”
“Well, either he’s lying or your research is wrong.”
“What do you think?”
“He was out there on the street wearing plain clothes. There weren’t any vehicles around. So unless he followed me there and parked somewhere else, I think he was telling the truth.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. That actually isn’t why I called.”
“Why then?”
“I’m so pissed off I just need something to do,” I told him.
“There has been nothing new on the boards.”
“Fuck,” I responded.
“What’s got you so pissed off?”
“I told him there was a hit on him. I also told him I thought he should leave town, but he refuses.”
“From everything you’ve told me about him, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Why do men have to be so pigheaded?” I groaned.
“Hey!” he complained.
“Present company excluded, of course,” I told him. “So, there’s nothing small on there? I need to test Archer in a low-risk situation.”
We even made a point of getting involved when people were being stupid.
Like scaring imbecile punk teenagers.
Word got to us about this kid that pretended to get kidnapped so that he could extort money from his dad. I didn’t know why his dad came to us for help, but it might have been because he wasn’t getting any headway with the police. Not that I had anything against the police, but there was too much red tape that they needed to deal with, so their hands were tied in these types of situations. Sometimes the red tape ensured that they were too late to intervene before anything serious happened.
When we found the little puke, he was playing video games in a hotel room with his friends. What we did to him might have seemed a little extreme, but his father wanted us to scare him straight. Once we handed the hotel manager enough money to cover the damages, we broke down the door and threw black bags over all of their heads. The two friends who weren’t pretending to be kidnapped were dropped off in front of their high school wearing only a bathrobe from the hotel.
They were lucky we left them with that.
Their friend wasn’t treated with the same kid gloves.
We stripped him down to his underwear and tied him to a chair.
We only kept him for a couple of days, then we returned him to his family. One thing he would never know was that his father approved of us keeping him for a couple of days. He wasn’t treated badly, but we made sure he overheard all the ways we would take care of him if his father didn’t pay the ransom. His father paid us for our time, and we made sure that the news stations knew he pretended to be kidnapped.
“No, sorry.”
“That’s alright. I’ll test him another way.”
* * *
The next morning, I dragged Archer with me to the spot we used for our range. He got into the vehicle with me with no questions, which was a point in his favour. As a secondary measure, to gauge his reactions, I didn’t tell him where we were going or what we were doing.
“Where are we?” he asked once I parked the vehicle.
The whole ride there, we talked about his work. I wanted to see how much he actually enjoyed working at the bar. From what I could see, he appreciated the extra income, but wanted more responsibilities.
It was understandable.
What I didn’t tell him was that if everything worked out, he would get what he asked for, and then some.
“I don’t know if anyone brought you out here yet, but I thought it would be a good way of seeing how well you handle a weapon.”
“The only place they’ve shown me is the gym.”
“Likely so they could kick your ass and make fun of you later.”
“That didn’t work so well for Jack,” he bragged.
That made me laugh. I heard all about the concussion and saw the shiner my brother was sporting the next day.
“He’s been getting lazy about going to the gym. I think he’s getting a bit of a dad bod.”
Jack just got married last year to the mother of both of his daughters. They had been off and on for a while, mainly because he was too much like our dad in the aspect of not wanting to settle down. The only difference was Sarah was the only woman who had his children. Granted, there could be some random Wests out there from any of our brothers.
I went around the back of the vehicle and grabbed the case with the rifle.
“You’ve held a gun, right?” I didn’t want to make the assumption just cause he was a guy.
“Yep.”
“I figured with a name like Archer, you’ve got to be good at shooting things,” I teased.
He barked out a laugh, then responded, “I can shoot some.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon bantering back and forth. He handled most of the weapons well enough that I thought I would feel comfortable enough to have him at my back on a job. He needed some work with the rifle, but hand guns were an okay fit for him.
Though, I might be a bit biased on the rifle because it was one of my strengths.
Our father was a sniper in the military. When he got out, he had posttraumatic stress disorder and the only thing that seemed to help was the comradery of the club. As soon as he joined, he moved up through the ranks and then he started changing the way we operated.
Change came slowly because they met him with some opposition. Some Reapers liked the way money was being made, and others didn't want to give up their vices. There were some defectors when he took over leadership, but at least he knew those who stayed were loyal.
After all, what were we without loyalty?
He taught my brothers everything he knew, including how to use a rifle. Over the years, they imparted that knowledge onto me. It turned out I was better than them at sniping. I looked it up once, and oddly enough there were articles that discussed reasons why women were better than men at shooting long distance.
Which meant some of the trickier jobs went to me. Sometimes I was solo, and at others I was part of a team. It seemed most of the guys requested me as backup, just in case something went wrong.
Thankfully, my father didn't teach my brothers to be misogynists.
I wished I could have met him, but he was killed before I was born. My mom didn't even get to tell him she was pregnant. They met during one of his many runs to the coast. They had one weekend together and when he left, a piece of him stayed behind. Their story wasn't a thing for the ages.
They weren't in love or anything.
Still, I knew it affected me on a deeper level.