Chapter Two. #2
“The boat tours are operating as normal and the tourists are booking ahead,” Fortune said with a nod at Rose. Rose dipped her chin in agreement.
“We done?” I asked, and Fortune agreed. That was it for the legal businesses. Now for our not-so-legitimate.
“Thanks to Nun, the sex club and male escorts are doing great. We’ve caught some powerful people in compromising positions with the escorts. Such as our esteemed mayor,” Fortune said.
My eyebrows rose, and Nun nodded with a giggle. “Damn, really? Mr Squeaky Clean family guy?”
“Mr Squeaky Clean likes to peg a guy as much as me,” Nun stated, and we rolled our eyes.
“Last month’s casino broke the record for our takings. Storm ran an amazing event last month, and this month’s looks even better,” Fortune praised, and Storm nodded.
“The new identities have fallen a little, but that’s through no fault of our own. Cyber is watching the intake at the domestic violence shelters.”
“Any immediate concern?”
“One. Her name is Geri Danvers. Her husband, Liam Danvers, is a real piece of work. He’s broken so many bones in her body that, luckily, she’s not made of titanium.
I’m going to approach her this week and get her moved to a Harlot safe house.
Danvers already knows where she is, but we’ve got someone watching the shelter.
If he moves on it, they’ll get her out,” Cyber said.
“Keep me informed,” I ordered. I hated domestic violence with a passion.
“India has doubled its order of sex toys for this month. And Riyadh, in Saudi Arabia, has requested extra,” Sparrow informed us. Nice. They certainly brought the money in.
The smuggling using container ships hadn’t gone down as we planned. Instead, as mentioned, Sparrow now moved things with her mind, and the warehouse was used for boat hire and tours.
“Blade and Dagger?” Fortune asked, turning to them.
The twin sister enforcers nodded.
“We’ve got a high-profile job, a real piece of shit, we fly out at the end of the week,” Dagger said.
“Paid?”
“Yup, money’s waiting to be cleared,” Blade replied, nodding at Fortune.
I didn’t press for a further answer. They were the best and highly in demand, which meant they could be picky about their jobs.
They never told us who their targets were or where they were heading.
Just moved the money over and did their job.
They tended to do one or two jobs a month, no more or less.
“How’s the protection game?” I asked Poker.
“On the up. There’s been a spate of thefts lately, a gang’s attacking targets. I’ve dealt with the little gang members who attacked those under our protection, but the others I’ve left hanging. They don’t pay, I don’t play,” Poker replied.
“Fair do.”
“Stitch, do you have any surgeries planned?” I asked as our psychic healer caught my eye.
“Four this month, and I had six last month. They brought in just under one mill,” she said calmly. I nodded and offered a low whistle.
Stitch charged based on the client’s accounts, which meant she had some middle-range clients.
“Maid had eight cleaning jobs for the underworld last month and ten recommended by Portsmouth Police Department,” Fortune said, and I turned to Maid in surprise.
“Ten?”
“A lot of pissed off women last month. Three wives stabbed their husbands for cheating, and one shot hers. There were two other shootings I attended, and two very nasty decomposing bodies that neighbours hadn’t checked on.
There was also the beating of that couple during a house invasion. ” Maid shook her head.
“The husband didn’t make it?” I asked.
“He did, but he’s in a coma, Cyber’s looking into it,” Maid replied. I didn’t know how she did her job, but I admired her for it. She had the ability to erase DNA and biological material. It made her invaluable for underground clean-ups, but she also ran a legitimate business working with the PPD.
“Fortune? The investments?” I inquired.
“I’ll pull some; they’re about to crash, but the rest are fine. Those I’ve cashed in are in the finance folder. We’re sitting pretty. I’ve rejected a couple of money laundering requests; I won’t work with scum like the Gerrits.”
I nodded. The Gerrits were trailer trash of the worst kind and had their paws into everything.
They’d tried crossing us several times but soon learned their place.
I wasn’t messing around with those assholes.
They could stay out of our way or become fish food.
I didn’t care either way. Our monthly finance meeting ended, and we got up and left.
I watched my sisters, an uneasy feeling settling over me. Something was coming, something big, and I didn’t think it was all down to Storm having a hitman after her.
Hayden Wylde
“How did it go?” Captain Hatton asked as I slammed down in front of my desk.
“As well as you could expect,” I replied grumpily.
“They blew you off?”
“And then some.” Those fuckin’ women. Far too independent to take the offer of help. I knew exactly how it would go. If Fox or a hitman turned up after Storm, he’d mysteriously disappear like several others had.
“Anything look out of place?”
“No. The clubhouse and women looked the same,” I said with a frown, thinking of the whip.
That had certainly been intriguing. Sapphire had looked amused when she’d caught me looking at it.
Had it been hers? Did she like being whipped, or did she like doing the whipping?
My cock reacted, and I was glad I was behind my desk.
“The new girl got refused for the women’s club they run,” Hatton said with a grimace.
“It’s almost as if they know,” I agreed, thinking of how many undercover officers we’d tried getting in the Royal Harlots MC. The failure rate was one hundred per cent.
“Bet you couldn’t drop a bug either.” Hatton didn’t look hopeful.
“Nope. The guy behind the bar watched me constantly, and Sapphire was out within a minute of my arriving. I don’t even know how she knew I was there,” I complained.
I’d stake my life on the fact that they had illegal shit going on, and yet we couldn’t ever find proof.
We’d searched their boats, warehouses, clubhouse, and never found anything.
The one time we had footage of shit arriving, we’d stormed the place within minutes and lo-and-behold, it had disappeared.
Sparrow had looked on edge that day and had been worried, but nothing had been discovered.
The shipment had vanished into thin air.
“Have we dug anything up on one of their… stable?” Hatton’s mouth twisted at the word. He clearly didn’t like that the clubhouse had its own version of male club sluts.
“Nothing, they’re all clean apart from the one called Chopper. And when he was pulled in, he laughed in our faces and said Sapphire already knew. He had a lawyer within an hour of us hauling him in,” I replied, knowing Hatton was already aware of this.
“I know those bitches are up to something. They’re making a fool of us,” Hatton growled out.
Yeah, I couldn’t disagree. But without catching them up to their neck in shit, our hands were tied. As frustrated as Hatton and I were, neither of us would create evidence to force an arrest. The department was clean and would be kept that way.
“Any suggestions?” Hatton asked, and I shook my head.
“Let me think on it for a week. I’m going after this Fox, he may have given us an in,” I said and picked a file up. It was pretty light and nearly empty. Just a few sheets of information about Fox and his arrest record. His juvie was sealed, but I had a good idea of what was in it.
“Keep an eye on Storm and the clubhouse, I think shit will go down there. If Storm gets injured, the Harlots will roll out and there will be blood spilt,” Hatton said, and I nodded.
“What about that gang activity?” Hatton asked.
I snorted, and he looked at me, wondering what had amused me.
“We’ve got five in hospital. Each had the shit beaten out of them, and somebody tattooed ‘gang member’ and ‘thief’ over their foreheads,” I replied.
Hatton, who’d been taking a sip of coffee, choked and coughed. I got up and pounded his back, and he waved me away. “They what?”
“Someone or several someones beat them the hell up. They’ve bruises, cuts, broken bones, cracked ribs, and burns.
Then, across their forehead, someone deeply tattooed the words ‘gang member’ and ‘thief.’ I believe it’s called carving because the tattooist literally digs into their skin.
There’ll be no removing or covering it up,” I explained.
“Doesn’t Lantern from the Harlots run a tattoo shop?” Hatton asked.
“Cast-iron alibi and her apprentice and all equipment accounted for,” I said.
“Why ain’t the gang members identifying their assailant?” Hatton wondered.
“They are shit scared. Claimed the bogeyman assaulted them. All they can remember is a seven-foot black figure beating the crap out of them. Nothing else.”
Hatton stared at me incredulously. “And these are the ones who attacked businesses under Royal Harlot protection?”
“They pay dues to the Royal Harlots Security company.”
“It’s a protection racket, Wylde, we both know it,” Hatton hissed.
“They’ve got paperwork and contracts. We can’t prove shit,” I argued, and Hatton nodded.
“I know. But it’s still a protection racket. Those gang members are lucky to be alive,” he said.
“Yup. Without a doubt, they are a warning to anyone else who thinks about attacking anyone under Royal Harlot’s protection.”
“Damn it, they do good, but they’re also illegal as hell. We’ve got the law to uphold,” Hatton cursed, and I understood what he meant.
There was no doubt the Royal Harlots ran this part of New Hampshire. Anyone who crossed them disappeared. But crime was down, and that was a good thing. At least it was in my eyes.
“Follow all leads, Wylde, you’ve got my support,” Hatton said and got to his feet.
I stared out of my window and tried not to focus on a pair of soft brown eyes.