Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Letti
With Icer going out of town for the final send off for his friend, Gage, I’ve ensconced myself in work.
Days have turned into weeks, the holidays have passed, yet my relationship with my Viking has stayed stagnant.
We do things most ordinary couples do—we hold hands, we snuggle, we go on dates, yet he hasn’t defined who or what we are to each other and I’m afraid to broach the topic for fear of sending him into a tailspin and causing him to haul ass.
I’ve been staying vigilant. I don’t leave the house unless I have an escort tailing me.
I’m not one who needs to be shown the error of their ways.
I listen and learn. I know first-hand that racism is a real thing in this Podunk town, the leaders and officials commandeering that—it’s what has me further dedicated to my boss’s honorable cause.
Aaron Bordello, the man I now hold in the highest regard, is a human being to be respected because he puts himself out there and fights for the underdog.
He’s a civil rights advocate and after he found out about my ordeal, he drew up some sort of legal paperwork and stomped down to the precinct where he got in the face of Sheriff Maloney, threatening him with a lawsuit amongst other things.
I wish I’d been a fly on the wall during that confrontation.
Small things have been happening, things I haven’t brought up with Icer because he and the club have enough on their plates.
I need to pull up my big girl panties and handle things for myself.
War was imminent, a foregone conclusion, then it wasn’t happening on the timeline that was predicted due to the fact that Canton’s chapter of the Kings weren’t ready or prepared enough to defend themselves against the enormous numbers the Onyx assholes have under their command.
They’re like damn bunnies, they keep breeding and producing hate while bringing in new members. They are now forty strong compared to the East Texas chapter’s eighteen. Those odds are nowhere even.
It would’ve been a blood bath, and the win would’ve been one-sided—theirs, not ours.
That wasn’t a chance Riptide was willing to take so he did something he hates doing, something that turned him green—he worked with the Feds thanks to Van and her new contact within the eastern border division.
Their plan worked, the Onyxs were rounded up and charges were placed against them, ones that stuck.
I don’t remember what all they were, but they were plentiful as was the evidence piled up against them.
There was no way they could weasel their way out of them, much to the chagrin of Maloney and the town council woman, Jerome and Patrick’s parents.
They left with frowns on their faces while we celebrated that night with beers and barbecue.
“Letti,” Mr. Bardello calls my name, yanking me out of my musings.
“I need you to hire a courier for me. I have a few things that need to be dropped off at the courthouse and I have a meeting that can’t be cancelled or rescheduled, therefore, I can’t take them personally.
They have to be hand delivered no later than one this afternoon so they can be processed today and not stuffed into a bin for tomorrow. Can you handle that for me?”
“I’ll find someone reliable, Mr. Bardello,” I promise, pulling up the world-wide web so I can begin searching for reputable courier companies. Preferably ones who have prior experience when it comes to dealing with legal handoffs.
“I know you will do your damndest but this is a small town so companies like that are a far stretch to find. Janice is holding all of my calls for the day, and she has other duties she’s trying to get done for me so I don’t fall behind, but if you have any problems finding somebody, let her know and she’ll take them during her lunch hour,” he tells me, rapping his knuckles on my desk before turning around and walking away.
Janice is his personal assistant/secretary.
The woman sacrifices more than she should for the pay he can afford to give her.
A quarter of what she’d make elsewhere. But like me, she’s passionate about what he does and supports him to the best of her ability.
Even if that means foregoing her lunch hour three out of five days in the week.
Pounding on the keyboard, I spend the next forty-five minutes scouring the internet, finding nothing helpful.
The closest messenger company to us is an hour away, and they’re booked solid for the entire day.
Knowing the importance of this task, I pick up the phone and dial Slayer’s number, intent to deliver this documentation personally.
“Letti,” he answers. “Everything good on your end?”
“Yes and no,” I respond. “Do I have a man on me?”
Clearing his throat, he asks, “Do you need one?”
My sassiness comes out full throttle when I give him my tongue in cheek comeback.
“That doesn’t answer my question, sir. Am I sitting here with no protection?
That makes me a sitting duck for the hunter, Slayer.
But yeah, to give you my answer, I need one so I can head to the courthouse and deliver some paperwork to the filing clerk. ”
“I’m working with a skeleton crew, Letti. Give me some leeway here, I’m doing the best I can with the hand I’ve been dealt. Bardello promised me you’d be safe there. He claims he’s added extra security to the building. Is that not true?”
“If he says he’s done it then he has, Slayer,” I say in defense of my boss. My idol.
“And since when do you hand things off to the courthouse? I was given a description of your job duties and that wasn’t one of them,” he brashly states.
“Typically, it’s not but today, it is,” I reply. “This is important, Slayer. I have to have this wrapped up no later than one this afternoon. Help a girl out, please.”
“I don’t have anyone to spare, Letti. But I have some free time around eleven, can you be ready to go and get back quickly? I have something I have to take care of too.”
“I’m ready now,” I exclaim. “Text me when you’re here and I’ll head out.”
True to his word, Slayer showed up when the clock struck eleven. Since it’s only two miles from the office, it took us no time at all to get here.
To utter chaos.
There’s a blockade holding off pedestrians and they aren’t allowing anyone to gain entrance. Even the parking lot is taped off, holding everyone back.
“What do you think is going on?” I inquire as we try to find a place to park along the curb at a meter.
“I have no earthly idea,” he responds, bringing his phone up to his ear. “Booker. Need you to find out what’s happening at city hall and the courthouse.”
“This can’t be good,” I mumble as he disconnects and pairs his phone to the truck’s Bluetooth operating system. “What kind of threat would have them running from the building, gathering in the lot, and taping it off.”
“Nothing good,” he mutters. We sit in utter silence as we wait for Booker to do his thing. When he calls back, it’s through the speakers and I get to hear everything he’s managed to dig up. “Talk to me, Booker.”
“An anonymous caller tipped off the facilities to a potential bomb in both buildings. The call was untraceable, but they’re taking the threat seriously.
It appears to be authentic because the bomb squad is on the way from the Metropolis.
They found something high-tech and sketchy so I highly doubt it was a scare tactic to evacuate the buildings. ”
“I’m sorry, Letti, but we’re not sticking around to see how this plays off,” Slayer apologizes. “I can’t take that kind of risk when it comes to you and your safety.”
“I understand, Slayer. Icer would hand us both our asses if we did,” I retort. “Can you take me back to the office?”
“Sure can. Buckle back up,” he orders before putting the truck in drive and heading back to the office district. Slayer makes a few, short calls along the way, one of those was to Riptide where he left a detailed message since it went straight to voicemail.
“Gonna call Icer too?” I inquire, not looking forward to being a spectator for that particular phone call. Doesn’t sound like a good time to me.
“Nope,” he says, popping his P. “I’m going to leave that alone and let you handle it.”
“Spoilsport,” I mumble. “That ball should be in your field, not mine.”
“Not happening, Letti. And to keep up with your baseball metaphor, you’re the only one with a big enough glove to catch the flaming pile of shit that man’s going to throw at us.”
“He’s not that bad,” I lie, knowing I’m full of it. It is going to be that bad and he’s going to throw one helluva temper tantrum when he finds out I was sitting dead center of the blast zone if that bomb had gone off. Slayer and I both would’ve been obliterated.
When we pull up to the building, it too has all of the occupants standing outside of it. “What the hell now?” Slayer hisses.
My boss notices us and purposefully strides our way. When I roll down the window, he leans in, a soured expression on his face. “We couldn’t locate you, Letti. Why didn’t you let someone know you were leaving?”
“The only service I found had no availability for the day so I took it upon myself since you said it had to be done in a certain timeframe,” I defend.
“I took the appropriate steps and called for an escort like I’m supposed to.
” I emphasize that point by waving my hand toward Slayer.
“I didn’t take any unnecessary chances, bossman. ”
Slayer grips the steering wheel, his knuckles going white from the strain as he presses his chest into it. “Bomb threats had the entire courthouse emptied, Bardello. Is that what’s happening here?”
“More or less,” he replies. “Our office is the target. I think it’s due to this case I’ve taken on. It’s politically connected, but that’s all I can say about it.”
“Then consider this Letti’s resignation,” Slayer spits, grabbing the envelope sitting between us and passes it over to Mr. Bardello.
“Slayer, you can’t do that!” I rasp out, offended but not wholly surprised.
“I have Icer’s proxy when it comes to your safety, Letti. Don’t test me on this.”
I clamp my lips shut because I promised that I wouldn’t argue orders when it comes to my safety, but this pill is a monstrous one to swallow seeing as it’s attached to my pride.
Bossman gives me a look full of sympathy and pity before he takes the envelope and nods his head at me. “Stay safe, Letti. I’m not sure how, but I have a feeling this is centered around our work and your name’s attached and stamped on it since you’ve been my interpreter.”
“She’ll stay safe even if I have to lock her behind steel doors,” Slayer vows, reversing the truck without issuing any sort of goodbye.
I do not want to be locked behind closed doors. Of any kind. Been there, done that, have the mental and emotional scars with a little post-traumatic stress on top to prove it.
“That’d be a little extreme, Slayer,” I admonish, crossing my fingers with the hope that he was messing around.
“It’s not something you’d actually do, right?
” When all he does is look at me out of his peripheral, my body stiffens because reality hits me square in the chest. He would most certainly do it if it means keeping me alive and breathing.
I’m surrounded by protective neanderthals with a side of alphahole tendencies.
How did I manage to get myself mixed up with a crew such as this?