Chapter 21 #2
I was pulling the shirt over my head when she came in holding a mug with steam coming off the top, but she was also completely naked. Her hair was still messy and her eyes were still puffy from sleep.
“Goddamn,” I said, taking the mug and putting it on the dresser. My greedy hands pulled her close. “How do you do this to me?”
Her soft chuckle loosened the tension in my shoulders but made me squeeze her hips harder.
“What am I doing to you?” she asked, working my jeans back open.
My chest rumbled as her hand wrapped around my dick. “Distracting me.”
She grinned, but I stopped her.
“Kat,” I said as she tried to push on.
Her grin melted away and she stepped back a step. “I’m going to finish my coffee. Let me know when you’re done in the bathroom,” she said as he turned and headed back to the kitchen.
My hand wanted to chase her plump ass as it bounced with each step. Instead, I took a huge gulp of the hot coffee and cursed as it burnt my mouth.
I buttoned my jeans, then went to the bathroom and grabbed my belt from the other jeans, then fixed my hair before brushing my teeth again.
She was on the back porch, wrapped in a blanket. It hung off her shoulder, giving me a peek at her soft skin.
“I’m off for a while, but I’m done in the bathroom. Ma’s at the clubhouse but it’ll be a lighter crew for a few days.”
“Okay. Have a nice day,” she said before sipping her coffee.
Her indifference was irritating me. But this was what I wanted, right? I shouldn’t be irritated. I’d let myself get too comfortable with my wife and not been as invested in my responsibilities.
It was still early, but what we were doing would be easier during the day anyway.
I texted Rooster and Red to meet me at the garage so we could leave.
We had members covering their shifts at the bar until further notice.
Especially with some of the officers out of town, we needed to keep it tight.
Rooster arranged for two members to pick up Kristie from work since Jackal was gone.
We took off toward the city. Traffic was a bitch but I wanted to find this guy during the day due to his vocation. He’d be busy later.
Getting off the highway deep in the heart of Atlanta, we rode down Fulton Industrial to a little hole in the wall bar.
The parking lot was filled with potholes, not much different than 285, but not filled with vehicles.
But the classic Cutlass with aftermarket rims on low profile tires was parked out front.
Blue, the owner of Peaches-N-Cream who we recently paid a visit to, mentioned this guy, so Keys checked him out.
Randall “Juicy” James was a long-time pimp that supposedly catered to not only run-of-the-mill Johns, but the occasional celebrity clientele.
Atlanta filmed a lot of movies and had a lot of music studios.
Not to mention all the sports that drew in people with money who needed discretion.
We’d never dealt with this guy so I wasn’t sure what to expect. But we were coming just to talk, not impede on his business.
It was clear by the looks from the folks on the street and once we walked inside, they weren’t intimidated by us.
The place was small, dimly lit, and smoke clouded the space.
There weren’t many spots left that you could still smoke inside in Georgia, but if it was twenty-one and up, it was fair game.
After the long ride, I figured why not and reached for my pack.
The man behind the bar pulled a pistol up really fast. “Freeze, mutha fucka,” he said as he steadied the gun at me.
Rooster and Red had already pulled theirs out, and I wanted my cigarette so I went for it. Holding up the pack, I said, “Can I offer you a smoke?”
“You think you’re funny?” a deep voice asked from a dark corner over the low hum of rap music and steady bass.
Pulling a cigarette from the pack, then lighting it, I said, “Just trying to be polite. Looking for Juicy.”
“Who’s asking?” the bartender barked out.
“I’m Hawk. This is Rooster and Red,” I said, pointing to them. “Just came for some intel.”
The man in the corner stood; the others in the bar, only a handful of them or so, didn’t move their eyes from us.
He walked out enough to get a glimpse of him.
Dark skin, fresh fade, and a sharp tan suit.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust but there were two men standing behind him in the dark with assault rifles trained on us.
Still, I took a drag off my smoke and let him size me up.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
“Blue said you may be able to help.”
“And why should I help you?”
Blowing my smoke out, I said, “Well, I’m trying to break up a trafficking ring. The way I see it, that would help you out.”
He motioned for me to come closer. “I’m listening.”
We walked to the table and I sat after he did. Rooster and Red stayed close, but were watching my back.
“So what do you think I can help you with, Hawk?” Juicy asked.
“Do you have any info on a madame that used to work the area? Nicer clientele, hasn’t been heard from in a while?”
He rubbed his chin with his tat-covered hand. “There was a lady, Madame Jojo. It’s been a few years but I heard she was taken out.”
“Any idea who did it?” I asked.
He cocked a brow. “I didn’t work with her, so everything was hearsay, but word was a biker gang had their hand in it.”
My brows pinched. “Around here?”
“Not sure where they were from. But surely y’all ain’t the only one around town?” he asked, clasping his hands together on the table.
“We’re not a gang,” I told him as I stamped out my cigarette in the ashtray. “But not the only club around, just the biggest in the area.”
“My bad. I’ve always been more of a car man myself.”
“Convenient it was pinned on a club. Most of the clubs around here aren’t into sex work. Drugs and guns, maybe a strip club. So it seems you’d have more to gain from her disappearing than one of us.”
“We had much different operations. No change in business since she’s been gone. I had no reason to take her out. And like I said, that was some time ago.”
It was clear he wasn’t giving me more than what he had. Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it. Standing, I said, “Thanks for your time.”
Before I could turn, he said, “My info ain’t free, man.”
Looking at Rooster, then Red, I shrugged. “Hey, no terms were set. And frankly, you didn’t tell me shit.”
One of the safeties behind Juicy clicked, but Red and Rooster were quick. As they rushed the guys behind him, I grabbed Juicy by the suit jacket, lifting him out of his chair, and slamming him to the ground as I pulled my Desert Eagle that Petrov gifted me the night my Pops was killed.
Standing over him with it aimed at his face, I yelled to the bartender, “Drop it or he’s dead.”
The commotion behind the table ended, and Red and Rooster dropped the clips from the rifles and pocketed them, still holding the guns.
Pulling Juicy across the floor with the barrel at this temple, we all made our way to the door, their guns still aimed at the others. “We didn’t come for trouble. We can leave this shit here, or we can make some,” I told them.
Red and Rooster dropped the rifles by the door, I dropped Juicy, and we ran out. We holstered our pistols and took off on our bikes down a side road, as fast as we could. Before we made the turn, someone ran out after us, but they didn’t take a shot.
After a few miles, I made sure they weren’t tailing us. We pulled off into an old dusty parking lot of a closed down gas station to put our helmets on before we got back on the highway.
“Well, that was a bust,” Red said.
“Maybe. But let’s go visit Blue really quick before we head home.”
Peaches-N-Cream wasn’t too far from where we were, so we made the short drive, still making sure Juicy and his guys hadn’t followed us. Pulling up, his parking lot was already half full midday.
The guy at the door stiffened but let us by without the cover. Once inside, the bouncers walked over.
“Can I help you?” one of them asked.
“Nope,” I said, passing him to the office.
I kept walking, but Red and Rooster were dealing with those idiots behind me.
Without a knock, I flew into Blue’s office and panic filled his black, beady eyes.
“Hawk, what the–” I grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him to his desk. He grunted but had his hands up. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”
“Why didn’t you tell me Juicy would be hostile? Huh?”
“He’s usually not. I mean, he’s a pimp, though. I told you what I know!”
Slamming his face again, I said, “You really have a thing for pain don’t you? You should have told me he’d ask for payment.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ve never dealt with him, man!”
Pushing him before letting him go, I said, “Fuck yourself, Blue. I’m about sick of your halfass shit.”
I stormed out of the room then waved at my brothers. “We’re done. Let’s go.”
I needed to talk to Keys.
And fuck if I didn’t want to see my Kitty Kat.