Chapter 20
Angel
I t’s early and after last night’s drinking session, we’re all feeling a little rough around the edges this morning. A bleary-eyed Buzz strolls into the communal living space where Drifter and I are already drinking hot cups of strong black coffee. He makes himself a cup before speaking, we know better than to try to get a word out of him before he’s had a sip, so for a moment we all drink our coffee in silence.
Once the coffee starts working its magic, Buzz looks up seemingly to only now notice one of us is missing. “Where’s Gunner? Thought he’d be the first one up since he came to bed early.”
“No idea, after he went to bed the rest of the night’s a bit of a blur,” Drifter groans.
I shrug, “Probably still sleeping, we’ll wake him up in a moment if he’s still not up.”
Gunner seemed out of sorts last night when he rushed off to bed, we all put it down to Brewer’s death but there’s more to it than that, I’m sure. When Skye sat back at the table with us, she too seemed off, she said Veronica had been rude to her and Gunner, which explains it to some extent, but I got the impression she wasn’t telling us everything. We’d literally had to carry her to bed after one too many shots so none of us are expecting her to surface before we leave.
“So, we’re all clear on the plan today?” I ask looking at them both.
“Yep, though I’m not sure why we think today is gonna be any more fruitful than the other times we’ve tried to speak with Anderson,” Buzz replies.
Since we ambushed him at the charity gala, Bill Anderson has been very careful not to let us anywhere near him. He’s upped the security at his offices and there’s a continual stream of cops who move us along if we try to wait for him outside.
“Probably not, but we’ve got to keep putting the pressure on, let him know we aren’t going to back down or go away just because he ignores us. We’ve got a 10 am meeting with Brewer’s lawyer so we can find out more about what legal avenues are available to us, but with Bill keeping a tight lid on his involvement and the fact that he no doubt has rock-solid alibis for all the nights the Demon Riders have come after us, there’s not a lot we can do,” I reply with a sigh.
“I think it’s high time we get Ron involved,” Drifter says.
Ron West is a private investigator that we’ve used in the past and had good results with. He could be the secret weapon we need to help us unveil Bill’s connection to the Demon Riders MC and involvement in this scheme to take him down.
“I think you’re right. Usually, I’d be all for taking Bill Anderson down the old-fashioned way. But since he’s so high profile and the cops are already sniffing around there’s no way we’d get away with it and I’d rather not spend the rest of my life in jail,” I reply.
We don’t say it but I’m sure the others are thinking the same thing as me. I also don’t want to lose Skye, not now we’ve finally found her. Jail time means leaving her behind, something none of us can bear the thought of doing. We haven’t known her long, but already, we don’t want to lose whatever it is we have with her.
The others nod in agreement. “Come on, let’s go wake Gunner up, we’ve got a long day ahead of us,” Buzz says, downing the remainder of his coffee.
To say we are shocked when we enter Gunner’s room would be an understatement. All three of us have to pick our jaws up off the floor as we walk in to find him in bed with a sleeping Skye next to him. She’s fast asleep, her head cradled in the crook of Gunner’s arm and a hand gently resting on his chest as she cuddles in close.
“Sorry guys, I didn’t want to wake her. I’ll be out in just a moment,” he whispers, gently trying to extricate himself without waking her.
We stand there mutely, dumbfounded by the sight for a moment before nodding and backing out of his room.
“Well… that was… something,” Drifter says, his voice as confused as I feel as we wait in the corridor.
“Yeah, I mean it’s great… but I did not expect that,” Buzz adds.
I nod, feeling equally surprised yet happy for my friend. I also can’t help the niggle of worry that worms into my brain. We’ve all wanted Gunner to heal and to find a woman who he feels comfortable enough with to allow them to touch him. But in all honesty, I wasn’t sure he could ever handle a normal relationship again. It’s great that Skye has brought this out in him, but what does that mean? Does he love her? Would he want a relationship with her? And if so, where would that leave the rest of us? I’d happily step aside for my oldest friend, I’m sure we all would if that’s what they want, but it wouldn’t be easy. But even more worryingly, what happens if Skye breaks his heart? The setback could be irreversible and the last thing I want is for my friend to be hurt.
Gunner comes out of his room with a contented smile on his face, he looks happier and more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time. “Morning guys, sorry I’m late. Are we ready to go?”
“So… are we gonna talk about what we just saw, or?” Buzz says, stunned.
“Oh you mean Skye sleeping in my room?” Gunner asks.
“Duh, how did that happen?” Drifter interjects.
Now Gunner looks sheepish. “Well, I was having one of my nightmares and Skye heard me. She came in and… comforted me.”
Drifter lets out a big belly laugh, clapping him on the back. “Comforted. Is that what we’re calling it these days? Good for you man!”
Gunner smiles but I can also tell there’s more to the story, that something happened he’s not quite willing to admit just yet. Skye seemed fine but I can’t believe she woke him up in the middle of a night terror and he just let her into his bed to cuddle. Gunner knows we’d tear him a new one if he hurt her or put her at risk, but for now, I’m happy to let it slide. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.
***
When we arrive at Bill Anderson’s office we don’t bother with the soft approach we’ve been using up to now. We’ve tried speaking with his receptionist to book an appointment only to be told he’s fully booked every time. We’ve tried standing and waiting until he comes out of his office only to be escorted out by security, laughable since we could take the security guards on with our hands tied behind our backs, but as I said, we don’t want to waste time in jail. And we’ve tried waiting outside, which results in the cops being called to move us on. I’m done with that, it’s time for a more forceful approach.
The thin-lipped receptionist with a pinched face doesn’t even bother to look up at us as we enter the building. “He’s in a meeting,” she says, her voice clipped.
We ignore her, walking straight past the reception desk and hopping over the gates that require a keycard to enter.
“Wait, you can’t go back there!” she cries out, startled, jumping up and shouting, “Security!”
We ignore her protests, rushing up the stairs toward where Anderson’s office is signposted. We burst into his room without knocking and a startled Bill Anderson looks up.
“What are you… you can’t come in here!” he sputters.
“Seems like we just did,” Drifter replies casually, shutting the door behind us and locking it.
Anderson’s eyes go wide, and he reaches out to grab the phone, he doesn’t manage to key in anything before Gunner pulls it off the desk and out of his grasp.
“Security will be on its way,” he says trying and failing to sound brave, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat nervously.
“We know, your lovely receptionist Linda called for them as we made our way up,” Buzz replies, his voice friendly but his demeanor threatening as he flashes a predatory smile at Anderson.
“Mr. Anderson. We aren’t scared of your security guards, and we aren’t here to hurt you,” I say calmly.
“Not yet at least,” Buzz adds with another cold smile as Gunner stands intimidatingly close.
“What do you want?” Anderson asks tremulously, his brow slick with sweat.
“To talk. You see, a friend of ours, an elderly gentleman, was burgled the night before last. The burglars hit him on the head and sadly, he died yesterday as a result,” I explain, looking at him closely for his reaction.
“Well, while that’s a terrible thing to happen, I don’t see what that has to do with me…” Anderson replies, sitting up a little straighter in his chair and trying to regain his composure.
His eyes dart over to the door where the sounds of the security guards trying to gain entry are now coming from.
“Drifter, please let them in, we wouldn’t want them to injure themselves trying to break the door down,” I state calmly.
This only serves to worry Anderson more, the fact that we’re unthreatened by them shows we are in control here. One of the security guards trips and falls into the room as Drifter opens the door wide at the same time as he is presumably about to ram it with his shoulder. He stumbles before catching his footing, a look of surprise on his face, his equally bewildered colleague enters behind him, gun drawn.
“Are you okay, sir?” he asks Anderson. “I’m sorry, they snuck past us.”
Anderson seems to assess the situation and decides that, for now, he’ll act the part I was hoping he’d play. “I’m quite alright thank you, these gentlemen just wanted a chat.”
The security guards seem uncertain of how to proceed so I continue to talk. “As I was saying. The man who was murdered was our friend, Brewer, though you probably know him by the name, Thomas Nelson. The same elderly man you harassed and bullied into signing away a portion of his land to you.”
Anderson looks pissed that by allowing the security guards in, he now has to defend his actions in front of witnesses. “I hope you aren’t insinuating that I had anything to do with this poor man’s death. And the sale of his land was all perfectly legal.”
“It was, much to your disappointment since after the sale went through and surveyors came it turns out that particular piece of land is worthless and cannot be developed on. That’s when you set your sights on getting a hold of the rest of Brewer’s land for your star project and the development much of your campaign hinges on.”
Feeling like he’s in more comfortable territory now we’re discussing politics, Anderson confidently replies, “I offered the man a deal which he was considering, but that is not against the law. But none of that now matters if what you are saying is true and the man has sadly passed. It will be up to whoever inherits the land to do as they see fit. But I still don’t understand why you’re coming to me with this and not the police. Though, as I’ve told you, I’m sure that an investigation would prove my innocence in any nefarious actions.”
“Perhaps we should speak to the press too, I’m sure they’d be interested to hear our concerns about corrupt politicians colluding with gangs to threaten and rob senior citizens,” Buzz says casually leaning against the desk and studying a paperweight.
“Alright, I think I’ve listened to this nonsense and slander for long enough. Please escort these men out,” Anderson says to the security guards before adding, “Any further questions should be directed to my lawyers.”
“No need, we’re done here anyway. Just remember Anderson, we’re not the forgive-and-forget type. We’ll be seeing you,” I say, enjoying the flash of fear in Anderson’s eyes.
“Don’t come back, you hear me, or I’ll call the police!” Anderson calls out as we walk away, followed by the two bemused security guards.