Chapter Nine - Ryder
CHAPTER NINE
Ryder
Present
I’ve never considered myself to be high maintenance, but as I drive through the gates of the once-abandoned Air Force base, I realize that Los Angeles might’ve spoiled me. There were no interior designers hired to make this place feel like it was built for kings.
Also, unlike Los Angeles, this base is made up of several buildings. Armories, bunkers, aircraft hangars, dormitories-turned-offices, and other random buildings that I’m sure have some equally unimportant purpose.
I drive right up to the biggest structure on the property—the old Administrative Facilities building now called the Hub.
I park my car just as a young man—no doubt in his teens—descends the steps so fast I think he might fall. When I step out of the car, he smiles with nerves rather than warmth.
“Welcome, Mr. Bates. I can take your—”
I toss him the keys as I pass by and head up the steps.
“Your joyride better not leave this property. If there’s so much as a single scratch, it’s your head.”
With a quick look over my shoulder, I find him gawking at my Ferrari like I’ve just given him the winning lottery ticket, and I chuckle to myself.
It wasn’t too long ago that I was given the same job as a teenager by the capos in Los Angeles.
Of course, they would’ve killed Moreno and me if they knew we took their cars for a joyride before they were tucked safely in the parking garage. I’m just not as na?ve as they were.
My chest constricts at the memory but simultaneously gives me a new burst of determination as I come to the main door of the Hub.
I will get my old life back.
The smiling face of John Harris is the first thing I see when I swing the rusty metal door open and step into the mercifully air-conditioned room.
“Bates, long time no see.”
John Harris, who is roughly my age, has worked for the Sacramento base since he was thirteen.
Adopted from India before he turned one, John lived in luxury until his parents died in an accident.
It was revealed after their deaths that his adoptive father had a gambling addiction that left John homeless and penniless.
A few of the soldiers caught him stealing from one of the businesses they offered protection to, and instead of sending the kid back to the streets, they took him in.
He was fed, clothed, and out of the foster care system in exchange for using his thieving abilities for the family.
His black hair is slicked back with just enough gel to make him look like he’s trying way too hard, and he has a neatly trimmed beard that covers the lower half of his face.
He wears a navy blue suit, complete with a tie and a vest that make my army green pants, loose tee, and sneakers look comically out of place.
I shake his outstretched hand. “You know that I prefer going by Ryder.”
He weighs his head from side to side. “Not sure it’ll take here. I’d get used to Bates if I were you.”
Most of the people in this business go by their last names exclusively, but things are different in Los Angeles. It’s one of the few bases in any family where we live together. The only one who goes by their last name there is Moreno—for obvious reasons.
Harris glances down at his watch.
“We should get going. Knox and Briggs are in the conference room waiting for us.”
I follow his lead, even though I can navigate each of our bases with a blindfold on.
Only seeing Harris at the entrance had me under the impression that the base isn’t busy today, but as we walk, we maneuver through groups of men, either deep in conversation, laughing, or walking in silence.
All of them pause when they see me, and the less intelligent of the bunch have the audacity to whisper to each other—and not so quietly.
“Is that Bates? Does that mean Moreno is here, too?”
“You didn’t hear? He’s been demoted and transferred here permanently.”
“What the hell did he do?”
“I heard he gave a Consoli access to our database.”
“I heard he kidnapped Moreno’s fiancée.”
“Moreno would’ve killed him for either of those. Had to be something else.”
I force myself to release my tightly locked jaw. I never considered what people might think about my presence—how they’d perceive it and how rumors would spread.
The only people who know the whole story of why I’m here are the capos.
Harris pushes a set of glass doors open, and I follow him in. I’m glad the walls are opaque, and only the doors are glass. I hate being watched during meetings.
The two men waiting inside push their chairs back to stand at our entrance, and I meet their familiar faces with a civil smile.
Which is far more than I get in return.
The man closest to me is one I’ve only met in passing, Mark Knox.
He’s in his mid-twenties and one of the newest capos to be appointed.
His expression is bored—despite the fact that he’s meeting with the family’s former underboss.
It’s nothing like the respect I would’ve been offered only weeks ago.
But I suppose that’s what happens when you betray the boss.
The next man is one I’ve known since I joined this family.
Warren Briggs.
Briggs is one of the few men who can make me look like it’s time to hit the gym.
Even entering his mid-fifties, he’s built like a tank.
His silvery blue eyes resemble steel, and the cropped hair and scruffy beard are more salt than pepper.
He looks ready to bite my head off, and if I hadn’t known him for years, I might not know that’s his happy face.
No one bothers with pleasantries, and though this has been a less-than-cordial welcome, Harris’s smile is unmoving as we settle into our seats.
Harris is the first to speak. “I’ve prepared a statement for the soldiers explaining that you’re taking a position as a capo here, but I’ll let you give the reasoning for it. That should get a handle on the rumors.”
“I don’t care about the rumors,” I tell them. “I’m here to do my job. I don’t owe them an explanation.”
“A statement would stop them from speculating until they eventually figure out that you’re here because you betrayed Moreno and this family,” Briggs states in his gravelly voice.
I should’ve figured Briggs would feel this way. He’s more traditional than some of the younger capos, having served this family back when Moreno’s father, Marcus Marsollo, was the boss.
In this world, trust is everything, and since I broke that trust, I don’t deserve to be here.
“As I said, I don’t care what they think. Moreno made a call concerning my actions, and anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with him—though I wouldn’t suggest it.”
Briggs’ resting face is so deadly that he doesn’t have to change it to be glaring at me, though the tension in the room rises noticeably.
“So, no reasoning then,” Harris says a little too cheerily, scribbling something on a notepad in front of him.
“Next, we’re all expected to be at the Mayor’s Gala next weekend.
It’s some environment fundraiser to boost Mayor Franklin’s image for the upcoming election.
A lot of the local political players will be in attendance, so we need to show our faces—keep up appearances. ”
Though none of us are particularly excited about attending a gala in our free time, we grumble our acknowledgments.
“Great,” Harris says. “Lastly, we need to divide up the capo jobs.”
The next twenty minutes are spent putting more and more work on my plate.
Most of the jobs are mundane day-to-day tasks like bookkeeping, soldier shift scheduling, and on-base inventory organization.
Most of the jobs fall under Knox’s jurisdiction since he primarily oversees the base’s daily operations.
Still, his list of responsibilities is so long that I doubt he’ll even notice the lighter load.
I also take over assigning the protection rotation from Harris, who manages the businesses in the areas in and around Sacramento.
The only person who doesn’t relent any work to me is Briggs, whose primary focus is on sending out and receiving shipments.
Since this is the only base that was previously Air Force, it’s the perfect place to conduct the majority of the family’s shipping needs.
We’re about to finish up when I lift a hand. “I’ll also be auditing all records that could be connected to Mason Consoli.”
Every base has been instructed to begin this process, so I know they’ve already started, but now that I’m here, I intend to personally investigate. If I find the source of the leak myself, it could help my efforts to get back to LA as soon as possible.
“That’s under my supervision. You’re not needed,” Briggs snaps.
I lean back in my chair. “More eyes won’t hurt.”
Harris looks uncomfortable for the first time since the meeting started, leaning forward as if he could get between Briggs and me through the table. “Bates, Briggs is already in the process of working through that information. I don’t see the benefit of adding that to your workload.”
“The benefit is that I come from the biggest and most successful base in our family and have the knowledge and experience to complete this investigation efficiently.” I look to Briggs. “I’ll take every report that’s been audited already, along with the ones that haven’t.”
“The hell you will,” he grates.
Harris places both hands on the table, pushing to stand in the most un-intimidating warning I’ve ever seen. Still, both Briggs and I look to him.
“Work together,” he suggests.
“No,” we answer in unison.
Harris gives us an exasperated look like he’s chastising two kids, and not one man who’s twice his age and another who’s outranked him for eight years.
Knox watches the exchange like we’re a movie he’s seen dozens of times.
“Briggs, why don’t you send Bates the information he wants? He can look it over and see if there’s anything helpful.”