Chapter 14
ZOMBIE
“You should’ve seen her.”
Groaning, I do my best to tune Whiz out as he tells Quake and Trick about our visit to Lucy’s condo. In the end, she gave us enough etorphine to keep Baker and his housekeeper out of it for today, but the medication won’t last beyond that.
When we went our separate ways from the zoo, Lucy told me she wanted time to think about continuing to help the club, and I let her think I was okay with that. The truth is, if I don’t hear from her by the end of the week, I’ll return to her condo and force the issue.
Why does that make me feel like the biggest bastard on the planet?
“...her for himself.”
“Is that right?” Quake asks, slapping me on the back.
“Is what right?” I ask.
“Must be,” Trick comments with a smirk.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand.
“Whiz says you claimed Lucy for yourself,” the enforcer explains. “Says you’re fucked up over her.”
I shoot a glare at Whiz. “You need to quit running your mouth.”
He shrugs. “I speak the truth, Z, and you know it.”
Morris Baker begins to stir in the chair he’s tied to, and I push off the wall to stride across the space and crouch in front of him.
“Wakey, wakey,” I taunt, smacking his face.
He jolts awake with a jerk of his head, and his eyes widen. “W-who are you?”
“I’m your worst nightmare.”
“Remember, Lyric said not to kill him,” Trick states.
“Kill m-me?”
It’s not often we let people live who’ve been in the chambers, but occasionally, we make an exception. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on in Lyric’s head that he thinks this is a time where an exception needs to be made, but I know he must have his reasons.
As for the housekeeper… her biggest crime is being loyal to her boss. Hard to dish out the ultimate punishment for something we value so highly in our own MC family.
“Weren’t you listening?” Quake demands. “We’re not gonna fucking kill you.”
“We just wanna talk,” I state, rising to my full height. “Now, I’ll untie you if you promise to be a good boy.”
“I p-p-promise.”
I nod at Quake, and he does the honors. When he’s free, Baker rubs his wrists, smearing the blood from the restraints digging into his skin.
As if only just remembering that he wasn’t alone when my brothers picked him up, he darts his gaze around the space.
His eyes narrow when he sees his housekeeper slumped in a chair on the opposite side of the room.
“What the hell?” he snaps. “Why is Martha here?”
“You have only yourself to blame for that,” Trick says flatly. “We tried to keep her out of this, but apparently, you don’t know how to clean a goddamn toilet and require her services to survive.”
Baker opens and closes his mouth like a damn fish out of water. Finally, he asks, “What do you want from me?”
“It’s very simple really,” I begin. “What is your interest in the factory you’re trying to purchase through Michael Martin?”
His brows wrinkle. “The factory? That’s what this is about?”
“Of course,” Whiz says as if the idea that he wouldn’t already know that is insane.
Baker’s eyes shift from me to my brothers and back again. “Do you own it or something?”
“Or something.” I lean forward and brace myself on the arms of the chair, effectively caging him in. “What is your interest in the property?”
He hesitates for a few seconds. Then he takes a deep breath, drops his gaze to the patches on my cut, and replies. “Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement, make our interests align.”
Gone is the scared asshat, and in his place is a man who knows how to conduct business within the underbelly of society. As I stare at Baker now, it’s easy to imagine a ruthless bastard who will do whatever it takes to remain at the top of his shady game.
I make a show of throwing my head back and laughing. “Hear that, brothers? He thinks we’d be willing to work with him.”
Quake, Trick, and Whiz laugh as well, but Baker sits ramrod straight, his expression giving nothing away.
Man’s gotta set on him, it seems.
“Do tell,” Trick finally says. “What could you possibly have to offer the Kings of Anarchy MC that we don’t already have?”
“Space,” Baker states matter-of-factly. “More specifically, a large space that can’t be linked back to you.
” He grins, but there’s an evilness in it that I make a mental note to remember.
“I’ve done my research. I know that your chapter of Kings of Anarchy rules Tacoma.
I know that you deal in drugs, guns, and death.
And I also know that everyone has a price.
I just need to figure out what yours is. ”
Before I can answer, a rattle fills the room, causing me to look over my shoulder at Martha. I heave a sigh when I see her straining against the chains restraining her to the chair. Her eyes are wide with terror, and her mouth opens as she screams loud enough to make a person’s ear drums bleed.
“Jesus, woman,” Trick snaps, covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut the fuck up.”
Tears spill down her cheeks, and if it weren’t for the chains, she’d be kicking the shit out of my brother.
“Martha!” Baker shouts, and she stills. “They aren’t going to hurt you.”
What gives him that impression, I don’t know, but it seems to calm her slightly, and for that, I’m grateful. I nod at Trick, silently giving him the okay to release her. He does, and she opens her mouth.
“I wouldn’t,” I snarl before she can scream again. “Not if you want to walk out of here.”
“We don’t want to hurt you,” Quake adds with a shrug. “But sometimes there’s collateral damage.”
“I-I-I…” She swallows, and I swear I hear the thunk of her throat working. “I-I’ll be quiet.”
“Good,” I say. “You can thank your boss for getting you into this predicament.”
Martha’s eyes dart to Baker. “Is that true?”
“Martha, just sit there, and be quiet,” he replies, a bite to his tone. “You’ll be compensated for your trouble.”
With that, she sags against the chair, a look of defeat crossing her face.
“Dose her again,” I instruct Trick. “Just to be sure.”
He pulls an already loaded syringe of etorphine out of his cut and jabs the needle into her neck. Surprisingly, she doesn’t say a word or resist. Baker must pay very well for her to willingly be injected with a drug.
Once the sedative starts to take effect, I return my attention to our male captive.
“You were saying?”
“You have a price,” he says. “Your club has a price. What is it?”
“A fuck load more than space,” I bark.
“Fine. Name it,” he counters. “Whatever you want, it’s yours. As long as I’m able to conduct business in Tacoma, I don’t care.”
“About that,” Trick says, crossing to stand next to me. “We also did our research. Your business is fentanyl, and that’s not something we support.”
Baker snorts. “Right. One-percenters who give a rat's ass about the well-being of others.”
“It’s not so much about their well-being as it is about the fact that we need a customer base. Killing them is counterproductive.”
“Or it weeds out the weak,” he says. “Survival of the fittest and all that.”
Before I can continue the conversation, my cell pings. I pull it from my pocket and read the text.
Lyric: What’s taking so long
Me: He’s a talker
Lyric: About?
Me: Business propositions
Lyric: Interesting
Me: Is it?
Lyric: Knock him out. Church in 10
“Dose him,” I order Trick.
“You’ll regret this,” Baker snaps as Trick jams a needle into his neck.
“Don’t think so.” I reattach his restraints. “Have a nice nap.”
Multiple pings sound from our cells. I don’t bother looking at mine because I know it’s the mass text from Lyric calling church.
“What’s this about?” Whiz asks as he looks at his cell.
“I’m guessing Pres wants to know what Baker’s offering,” I reply, leaving the chambers and securing the lock once my brothers are out of the room.
“Do you think he’ll really consider working with him?” Quake asks.
I shrug. “Don’t know. If we can all agree that there’s value in what Baker can provide, then sure. But you know how it goes… we’ll vote on it first.”
As we make our way to the meeting room, I can’t help but wonder if not killing Baker the moment he was apprehended in Tulum was a big mistake.