Chapter 18 #2
Dash, Emmett and Leo stayed in their chairs beside me, but a slow grin stretched across Leo’s face and he held out a hand to one of the men flanking Tucker.
“Hey, man.”
“Long time, Leo.” The guy grinned back. “What’s new?”
Leo shrugged, sagging into his chair and finally picking up his beer. “Painting cars. Drinking beer. Chasing women.”
“So nothing’s new.”
“Exactly.” Leo chuckled and tipped the bottle to his lips. Then he shoved a booted foot into the stool beside him, moving it away from the table for the man to take a seat.
Leo’s posture was relaxed, and his cavalier attitude defused some of the tension.
He seemed at ease, like this was a normal Saturday afternoon drinking with friends.
But how many guns did he have tucked away?
I was guessing at least two. One in the waistband of his jeans, covered by the leather jacket he’d worn on the ride over.
And there was probably another in his boot.
Dash and Emmett probably had the same, if not more.
Like me, the Warriors had theirs in plain view. All three had sidearms holstered beside their ribs, barely concealed beneath the fabric of their vests.
The other man beside Tucker went to grab himself a chair since there was only one empty at our table. As he turned, he flashed me the back of his vest and the Warrior patch. It was a simple white arrowhead framed by the club name and a year. Probably the year they were founded.
The guy returned with a stool, though I’d been wrong. It hadn’t been for himself. He pushed it to the table, directly opposite me, and Tucker slid into the seat.
“Dash.” Tucker held out a hand.
Dash hesitated for just a moment before returning the shake. It wasn’t much, but we all noticed. The last thing he wanted to do was touch Tucker Talbot. But he’d do it and act civil to protect his family. To protect Scarlett.
“You remember Emmett and Leo.” Dash jerked his chin in their direction.
Tucker nodded, not sparing them a glance as his gaze locked on mine.
I sat motionless, pretending to be indifferent, when really, I wanted to reach across the table, tackle him to the floor and fit his wrists nice and tight into my handcuffs. But the anger stayed hidden as I took in his features.
Tucker Talbot had dark hair, nearly black, that was heavily speckled with gray. The skin on his face and his forearms was tanned and weathered—according to his record he was fifty-seven. His gaze was cunning. His expression merciless.
I hated him with every fiber of my being, and later today, if all went as planned, I’d have to shake his hand too. My respect for Dash was growing by the second for the sacrifices he was making to endure this.
“There’s an FBI agent outside,” Tucker said, his eyes still trained on me.
I nodded. “Probably.”
“Since when did you start working with cops, Slater?”
“Since one of your men came to my town, took my friend and her sister hostage, then decorated her walls with his brain matter.” Dash picked up his beer, taking a long swallow.
The corner of Tucker’s mouth turned up.
“Let’s talk about that.” I leaned my forearms on the table. There was no point stalling this thing so I jumped right in. “Your man—Jeremiah—was stealing your drugs. Selling them on the side. Burned his profits at the poker table.”
“My men don’t steal from me. And my club isn’t affiliated with drugs. Those are illegal, Chief Rosen.”
“Sure,” I deadpanned. Not a surprise he knew exactly who I was.
“Like I said, my men don’t steal from me or their club. Jeremiah said it was his woman. The sister.”
“It wasn’t,” I said.
“How do we know? I heard she’s gone underground. I’m not an expert, but in my experience, only guilty people run. Unless you know where she is. I’m sure if we had a nice talk with Goldilocks, we could clear this all up.”
He tossed her nickname out there like he had some ownership of my woman. Fuck, I wanted to nail this guy. I wanted him in orange for the rest of his natural days. Instead, I was going to let him walk out the door. “The FBI is after Scarlett.”
“Is that so?”
“They think she might be a witness to a murder that happened at your clubhouse while she was staying there.” It wasn’t something they’d confirmed, but Tucker didn’t know that.
Tucker’s jaw clenched. Not by much, but enough. Either he hadn’t known that Scarlett had seen them kill Ken Raymond. Or he was pissed that we knew what was going on.
His secrets were escaping their dark corners and maybe one of them would come back to serve up revenge ice cold.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Dash leaned forward on the table. “Get your men out of Clifton Forge.”
“We had a truce once. After you killed my father,” Emmett said.
“After you killed my men,” Tucker shot back. The Warrior standing at his back stiffened.
So Tucker had killed Emmett’s father too. Motherfucker. I’d suspected something like that had happened. Every cop in Clifton Forge had their theories, all of which involved the Tin Kings. It had been one of those crimes that had gone unsolved. No evidence. No witnesses.
Emmett never spoke of his father or his death. And here he was, sitting across from his father’s killer.
For Scarlett.
For me.
“We go back to that,” Emmett said, his gaze cold and cruel. “You stay away from us and our families. We’ll do the same.”
Tucker looked at Leo, whose laid-back posture was a sharp contrast to the serious expression on his face. “And what do I get? I made that agreement with the Tin Kings years ago. Club to club. From what I can tell, you three are all that are left of your club. Not exactly a threat.”
“We’ll get to that,” I said as ice ran through my veins. This son of a bitch deserved to rot in hell, but damn him, he wasn’t getting a rise out of me. “We’re not done with our terms quite yet.”
Tucker’s lip curled. “Continue.”
“Scarlett didn’t steal your drugs. Believe me or not, I don’t really give a fuck.
But as of today, she’s a distant memory.
You’ll forget about her. For good. In exchange, she’ll assure the FBI that she knows nothing of the murder that happened in your clubhouse basement.
The one where you tied an undercover federal agent to a chair and beat him within an inch of his life before tossing him in the river to drown.
You remember that? The murder you staged as an accident? ”
The Warrior seated next to Tucker immediately looked to his president. He’d been in that room. His fist had connected with Ken Raymond’s face. I hadn’t watched the video many times, but I had a good memory and his face was on it.
Tucker leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. Did he think I was bluffing?
My cards were on the table and I had a royal flush. Maybe I couldn’t make these assholes pay the way I wanted. But I was taking this.
I was stealing their vengeance.
“What’s keeping me from killing you all and the woman, right now?” Tucker said, his voice low. If he was going for menacing, it might have worked on someone else. “Dead people have a hard time testifying.”
“If any of us die from suspicious circumstances, the video evidence finds its way to the FBI.”
Tucker didn’t flinch. He didn’t so much as breathe. But he knew he was on the losing side. “I don’t like dealing with cops.”
“And I don’t like dealing with murdering motherfuckers, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”
Without another word, Tucker slid off his stool and stood. Then he gave me a grin that sent my heart plummeting to my stomach. “We’ll see.”