Chapter Fourteen Gambit
Chapter Fourteen
Gambit
A few hours later, I sit with my back to the wall, watching the young, heavily-tattooed, brown-skinned men surrounding the table.
The Onyx Devils formed five years ago. Barely out of their teens, they banded together to survive.
Building up a reputation for flipping car parts and playing hired muscle, they scraped enough money to establish themselves.
Upgrading their bikes and the business deals they made, they’ve turned themselves into a semi-respectable organization.
I admire their pluck. But I don’t trust them to be straight with us out of the kindness of their heart.
The president, Chewy, sits at the head of the long metal table.
His neatly trimmed goatee, dark eyes full of knowledge, and spattering of facial scars make him seem older than his mid-twenties “I appreciate you coming over to talk with us.”
“You said you had things to share.” Stone leans back in his chair. “The least we can do is hear you out.”
Chewy steeples his fingers together and nods. “We both know things have been getting hectic for people like us. We’ve managed to stay separate from the drama until recently.”
“Oh?” Stone inclines his head.
“We’ve been approached by other clubs before. But for the first time, we had cops at our door for any reason other than busting our balls.” He shakes his head. “To be honest. We thought they were bluffing. I figured they were fishing to see who’d bite.”
“What changed your mind?” I ask.
“The raid up your way. Made me think the rats were already buried somewhere in the hay, watching and waiting,” his V.P. Nestor replies. The bald man with a snake tattoo that wraps around his neck has the black eyes of a killer.
“I’m curious, what did they want?” Stone leans forward.
“To make a deal. If we helped them, they’d bring down the bigger clubs, freeing up space for us. With a deal in place, they’d look the other way while we ran our club.”
“That’s a nice offer for you,” Wizard observes. “Why did you turn it down?”
Chewy sneers. “I’d never turn snitch. And I sure as hell wouldn’t trust the word of a cop.
The second we did their dirty work; our necks would be next on the chopping block.
Besides, this is the empire we’ve built.
I’m not letting anyone take it or profit from it while they use us as collateral damage.
That’s why I turned down the other clubs’ request to merge. ”
“Why are we here then?” Wizard asks bluntly.
“Because you didn’t approach anyone. You’ve stayed to yourself and did a damn good job of pivoting.
Your main cash flow comes legally. And whatever you do under the table is kept a secret.
That’s the direction we want to head in.
I’m not asking you to hold my hand, just help us map out a blueprint that’ll work. ”
“Say we agree. What are you putting on the table?” Stone asks, keeping his tone even and unimpressed.
“Support and relevant data,” Nestor responds.
“Care to be more specific?” Stone frowns.
“For one, I think Negro Anas has been compromised.” Chewy snaps his fingers. The treasurer, Paco, pulls out a manila envelope and slides it across the table.
Stone pulls it toward him and shakes out photos.
The president of the club is unmistakable with his spiderweb neck tats, teardrop on his face, and distinct hand tats.
No black hoodie could hide his true identity.
Standing beside a middle-aged white man in a pair of designer blue jeans and a polo shirt, he’s out of place in the upper-class park.
Wizard looks over Stone’s shoulder. Brow creased and lips drawn taut, he stares down at the two men immortalized on glossy paper. “Who the hell is he with?”
“I asked that same question. After a little digging, I found out that’s Todd, a police informant.”
“Son of a bitch,” Stone mutters.
“That’s what prompted us to get our ass in gear. This thing is going to explode a lot sooner than we originally thought,” Chewy admits.
“We’re not looking to take on another club, but I get the feeling you aren’t either.
Being friendly and lending support is something I’m willing to agree to.
We can go to our financial guy to go over a business plan.
Bankroll is an ex-stock market trader. He’s got a nose for things and works with one of our brothers who went to college for marketing. ”
“Sounds good.”
“Right now, we have an in-house problem. You’re going to see a lot of destruction. But it’s all intentional. We’re going through some,”—Stone pauses—“aggressive restructuring.”
“You have us on standby if you need extra assistance.” Chewy stands and offers his hand.
Stone follows suit, walking around the table. They shake, and the atmosphere becomes lighter. “We will. And let us know if and when we can return that favor. We take our friendships very seriously.”
“We have more on the informant, Todd Richardson. Small-time drug dealer who specializes in party drugs as his in. He has connections with some of the girls looking to be old ladies, and I’m sure he pumps them for information when he’s getting them their fix,” Nestor explains.
“He’s a busy boy,” Wizard says.
“He spends a lot of time around Old Town. It’s where he likes to arrange his meetups. If you’re looking for him. I’d start there,” Chewy suggests.
“Gambit.” Stone looks at me.
“I’m on it, boss.”
Stone looks at the small group of our people. “Take Skull and Shadow with you.”
Nodding my agreement as I pull out my phone.
Group: I’m calling all Nomads in to the mother charter. Start making your way now.
Positive responses begin to flood in, and I relax. I want men I personally trust at my back.
Two hours later, we’re wandering the bustling area of Old Town.
Part historical buildings and sites, melded with specialty shops, eateries, and tours, it’s a popular destination for tourists and locals.
Wandering the crowded sidewalks on a Saturday is the last thing I want to do.
Blending in with our cuts is impossible, so we opted to lock them down in our bikes and split up.
I stop in front of the Whaley house. Rumored to be the most haunted house in America, the two-story red brick building with white columns and thick wooden doors welcomes ghost hunters.
Ro would get a kick out of this. We loved collecting spooky stories growing up.
Retelling them around bonfires and scaring the other kids was always a favorite pastime.
I study the actors in period clothing, talking to a group exiting the house.
My gaze locks onto a familiar face. Todd walks out with an older man in his late fifties at his side.
Clad in pressed khakis and an expensive button-down, the two don’t seem to match.
Is this one of the cops he meets up with, or a high-paying client?
The man has his hands dipped in so many pots it’s hard to tell.
Walking away, I move behind a tree across the street in the tree-laden patch of grass where I can see him without being seen.
The two men shake hands and go their separate ways.
Todd travels across the street toward the smoke store. Gotcha. I shoot a text to the others and lean against the tree to wait. Eyes glued to the doorway.
“You found him?” Shadow appears beside me. His black beanie is pulled down low on his forehead.
“He’s in the smoke shop right now. I figure if I walk in, he might be spooked.”
Shadow grunts. “What’s the plan then?”
“Catch him on his way out and apply some persuasion.”
Skull joins us. “I’ve had enough tourist time to last me the rest of the fucking year. Do people turn their brains off when they go on vacation? They’re like fucking lemmings, blindly plodding alone with no sense of self-preservation, direction, or awareness.”
“You were never a people person to begin with, brother. It doesn’t take much for you to meet your peopling quotas,” Shadow says with a laugh.
Skull grunts. “Let’s get this fucker, so we can get back to the club. I don’t like the direction this is starting to take. Too many troubles close together are a bad sign for us. If our people start to question our strength, we’ll collapse from the inside.
“You think it’s going to get to that point?” His words surprise me.
“It doesn’t take long. I’ve seen it happen too many times with other clubs. I’m not arrogant enough to think we’re not susceptible to the same fate.”
Shadow shoves his hands into his pockets. “You sound worried.”
“I am. We have a lot of fires happening at once. Eventually, our luck will run out.”
“Is there more going on here that I don’t know about?” His certainty makes me uneasy.
Skull shakes his head. “Just a gut feeling that this time is different.”
“Don’t jinx us. We’ve been through worse. Whatever comes down the pipeline, we’ll handle it, ‘cause we have too many people counting on us to do anything else.” Shadow squares his shoulders.
The contrast between their approach is startling. I can’t help but wonder if this is a manifestation of how divided the club has become.
“Are there more people who think like you, Skull?”
“I’m sure there are.”
Is he being evasive intentionally? How deep is the corruption running through the biker scene right now?
Should I be looking at the older brothers, whom I used to believe were solid?
The downside of being a nomad is I can’t make tough calls without research, cause I’m not around the brothers enough.
“Here he comes.” Shadow’s voice redirects my attention.
“Let’s approach him from different sides,” Skull says, walking off, getting lost in a big group of people.
Shadow takes off in the opposite direction, and I continue to track him. When he veers down a less crowded walkway, I pounce. Using my height to my advantage, I eat up the distance between us with a quick walk. He’s walking past the old schoolhouse.
“Todd.”
He turns with a slow smile and heavy-lidded gaze. “Hey man, do I know you?”
“No. But we have mutual friends.”
“Huh?” I can see his sluggish brain trying to work. Judging from his red-rimmed watery eyes and lax expression, he’s high as a kite. “Come and see me during business hours. I’m closed.”
“Yeah, this can’t wait.”
“Sounds like a you problem, dude.” He shrugs.
“I think it’s an us problem.” Shadow pops up behind him, with Skull approaching from the left.
“Shit.” The blood drains from his face. Licking his lips, he takes off like a rocket.
“Son of a bitch.” I jump over the dip in the land and give chase. Narrowly avoiding an unattended child, I dart to the left and spin around his stunned parents. “Move.” I bark at the group of teens who part like the Red Sea as I gain on Todd.
“Shit.” He makes a sharp right, and I see the worn wooden sign announcing the El Campo Santo Cemetery.
Red dust fills the air as he skids around a grave with a pile of stones. I leap over a marker and dance around a grave blocked up by a tall white picket fence.
He stumbles, and I launch myself forward, tackling him around the waist. We crash to the ground, knocking a white wooden cross to the ground with the crack of splintering wood. He tries to buck me off, but his movements are slow and clumsy. I pin him down with a knee on his chest.
Panting, he slaps at me. “I don’t have any product on me.”
“I don’t want your drugs.”
“What?” He freezes.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing in there? Have some respect for the dead.” I turn to the left and swear at the sight of a security guard radioing in backup.
Todd tosses me off, and I swear as I hit the ground. Standing, I run to give chase. Three men in black pants and shirts, each with a shiny badge, run toward us. I make the split-second decision to break left, leaving Todd in the guards' path, like a sacrificial lamb.
Tapping into my teen days, I pump my arms and zig-zag my way out of being caught. Chest heaving and lungs burning, I stop in an alley ten minutes away to catch my breath. Not only did we lose the bastard, we tipped him off to the fact that someone’s looking for him. He’s going to go underground.
Placing my hands on the back of my head, I walk out the stitch in my side. Energy prickles over my body. Now I have to figure out how to appease the ghost of the grave we desecrated. My mind drifts to Ro and her grandmother’s spiritual practices. She’ll know how to help me.
Never mind the calm that settles over me as I think of her.
She’s a reminder of a simple, happy time.
Reading any further into things would be stupid.
Making my way back at a snail’s pace to avoid security.
I reach my bike long after the sun’s set.
Climbing on, I start her up and let the wind soothe my stinging pride. Failure isn’t a word I’m used to.