Chapter Four #2
Twister folded his arms across his chest. “Start at the beginning.”
I took a breath. “I work for the city. You all know that much.”
A few heads nodded.
“My job isn’t exciting. Most days it’s permits, inspections, zoning complaints, occupancy reports. I spend more time behind a computer than I do walking buildings.”
Nugget snorted. “Sounds awful.”
Gramps elbowed him. “Let her talk.”
Nugget lifted both hands. “I’m listening.”
I looked back at Twister. “A few months ago, I started seeing the same company names over and over.” I pulled one document free. “Lakeview Holdings LLC owned an old warehouse.”
Another.
“Capital River Development bought a restaurant.”
Another.
“Heritage Property Group owned two apartment buildings.”
Method frowned. “Different companies.”
“On paper.” I slid another page into the middle. “They all listed different owners.”
Podge reached for it. “LLCs.”
“Exactly.” He studied the page for a second before looking up. “Different names.”
“Same mailing address,” I pointed out.
Podge’s eyebrows lifted. “Interesting.”
“I thought so too.” I spread another handful of papers across the table. “The more I looked, the more companies I found.”
Magnum pushed away from the bar. “How many?”
“I stopped counting after forty.”
Chewy let out a low whistle. “Forty shell companies?”
“Forty that I could prove.”
The room grew quieter.
Rev rubbed a hand over his beard. “That’s not an accident.”
“No.”
“It takes planning.”
I nodded. “Years of planning.”
Twister hadn’t moved.
He watched me the same way he’d watched everyone else since I’d walked into the clubhouse.
Patient.
Focused.
Waiting.
“What do they own?”
I reached into the envelope again and unfolded a large city map. “I made this.” The paper spread across the table.
Yellow circles covered nearly every block.
Every major intersection.
Every stretch of commercial property.
Sully stood from the bar to get a better look. “Holy shit.”
Method leaned over his shoulder. “They own all that?”
“They control it.”
“There a difference?” Method asked.
“There is when you know how to hide ownership.” I traced my finger across the map. “They buy buildings through one company.” Another line. “They transfer them to another.” Another. “Then lease them to a third.”
Podge’s eyes never left the map. “So nobody ever realizes the same people own everything.”
“Exactly.”
Twister finally leaned forward. “What’s this got to do with us?”
I swallowed. “This.” I tapped the map.
One section remained untouched by yellow. Instead, it was circled in red.
The clubhouse.
Hodge pushed himself off the couch. “They don’t own this.”
“No.”
“They tried,” I said.
Twister’s gaze stayed on the map. “Tried?”
I pulled another packet from the envelope. “This building has changed hands six times in twenty-three years.”
He looked up. “I know.”
“The last owner received four offers before you bought it.”
Tempi frowned. “Offers from who?”
I slid another page across. “Different companies.”
Podge looked closer. “They’re all fake.”
“They all connect,” I pointed out.
He looked up at me. “To The Ledger.”
I nodded once. “They wanted this building.”
Twister rested both forearms on the table. “And they didn’t get it.”
“No.”
Wheels spoke for the first time since I’d started. “So they changed tactics.”
My eyes found his. He wasn’t looking at the papers. He was looking at me. Really looking at me, like he wasn’t trying to decide if I was lying. He was trying to understand what I’d lived through.
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened. “They started making life miserable.”
I nodded. “The permit delays.”
Another nod.
“The inspections.”
“Yes.”
“The fire.”
“Yes.”
“The shooting.”
“Yes.”
Method muttered a curse under his breath.
Britta stepped out from behind the bar, drying her hands on a towel. “So they wanted the club to leave.”
I nodded. “They wanted you to give up.”
Tempi’s hand tightened on Twister’s shoulder. “They could’ve just offered more money.”
I looked at her. “I don’t think they expected people to say no with the amounts they were offering.”
Twister let out a humorless laugh. “That’s where they miscalculated.”
Several of the brothers chuckled.
Even I smiled a little.
“I don’t think they knew what they were buying against.”
Chewy grinned. “No kidding.”
Nugget puffed out his chest. “They picked the wrong motorcycle club.”
Gramps smacked the back of his head. “They’re still shooting at us.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“No,” Gramps admitted.
“It doesn’t.”
Twister raised one finger. “What about The Badger’s Den?”
I looked toward Tempi. “I think it was leverage.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“They don’t need your bar.”
Confusion spread across several faces.
I pointed to the map again. “They need this block.” My finger traced the clubhouse on the map. “The clubhouse.” I moved my finger down the block. “The Badger’s Den. Marv’s Antiques.”
“Marv’s closed a year ago when he died, and from what I hear, the place is caught up in probate,” Tempi pointed out.
“Yeah, but I’m sure probate won’t stop The Ledger. Right now, they are focused on the clubhouse because without it, they have nothing. They’re all connected.”
“Connected how?” Swift asked from the door.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. That answer tasted bitter. “I wish I did.”
I reached into the envelope one last time. The oldest document I’d copied slid onto the table. A faded blueprint.
Everyone leaned closer.
“What is that?” Sully asked.
“The original plans.”
“For what?” Hodge asked.
“This building.” I unfolded the rest of it.
A maze of faded lines appeared beneath the clubhouse, then continued past the alley and toward The Badger’s Den and Marv’s.
Tempi’s hand slipped from Twister’s shoulder. “No...”
I nodded slowly. “There’s a tunnel.”
Nobody spoke.
“I don’t know where it goes. The original blueprints call it an access corridor.”
Another long silence.
“I don’t know what’s at the other end,” I confessed.
Wheels finally looked away from me and down at the blueprint. “But you’re sure it’s real.”
“I found references to it in inspection reports from the twenties.”
Rev folded his arms. “And nobody ever filled it in?”
“According to the records...” I hesitated. “There aren’t any records saying it was ever closed.”
Twister stared at the blueprint for several long seconds before lifting his eyes to mine. “So let me see if I’ve got this straight.”
I nodded.
“They’ve spent years buying up property.”
“Yes.”
“They wanted this clubhouse.”
“Yes.”
“They wanted the bar.”
“I believe so.”
“They’ve threatened us...”
He ticked each point off on his fingers.
“...burned the bar...shot at us...and buried us in city paperwork...”
“Yes.”
“All because they want access to a tunnel.”
“I think so.”
“You don’t know what’s in it?” Twister asked.
“No.”
“You don’t know where it ends.”
“No.”
“You only know they’re willing to kill to get it.”
I met his eyes. “Yes.”
Twister leaned back in his chair and nobody said a word.
The blueprint stayed spread across the table between us while they all tried to wrap their heads around what I had just said.
Something was buried beneath the very place these men now called home, and for the first time since I’d uncovered The Ledger, I wasn’t the only person trying to figure out just what it was.