Chapter 18
I wasn’t lying when I told Brooklyn cell service was shit up here. That was why at the butt crack of dawn I was standing out on the back patio on the phone with Wilson.
“Any news?” I asked.
“First things first, I secured Brooklyn’s house. Davis and I debated then decided her and your son didn’t need to go home to a couch full of holes so we junked the couch and coffee table. Glass is swept up and the broken window’s boarded up.”
“Appreciate that.”
“Got word late last night. It wasn’t the Horsemen,” Wilson groused.
It was just after five in the morning and I doubted Wilson had been to bed. His irritation practically leaked through the phone and his clipped statement held the same disappointment I felt. I wanted Lawrence neutralized—as in put to ground—but I’d take behind bars if it meant my family was safe.
“You sure?”
“As sure as I can be if I trust a DEA agent who’s been undercover for two years.
He says all patched members were in a meeting at the clubhouse discussing Kiki.
He also says Lawrence would never trust a hit to be carried out by a recruit but further, no such hit was put out.
So, we’re working on other angles tied back to the trafficking. ”
My jaw clenched and anger seeped into my tone. “You’re telling me the DEA has an inside man and he didn’t come forward with Lawrence’s whereabouts when he was under investigation for the disappearance of Kiki Welsh?”
“That’s what I’m telling you and it’ll piss you off the same as it pissed me off but you’ll come around to understand—this guy knew where Kiki was because he was with her and Lawrence in California.
He explained he knew she was safe so it wasn’t worth the risk of blowing his cover to report in she wasn’t missing. ”
I bet that Brooklyn and the Welshes would disagree with that.
And unfortunately, as much as I wanted to be pissed on their behalf Wilson was right; I did understand operational integrity and it was always a risk when an undercover agent reached out.
They had to pick and choose what they reported.
A spoiled, nasty bitch running away from home, no matter the pain she was putting her family through, wasn’t worth blowing a two-year investigation.
“What’s he under for?”
“The usual, drugs and guns. The good news is he confirmed the Horsemen don’t run women. No stable of whores, no transport, and they don’t provide security for anyone who does. They stick with what’s easy and if they’re caught they’re not going down on trafficking charges.”
“Why’d he come forward about the drive-by?”
“When he heard whose house was hit he got worried we’d blow his investigation.”
Smart man.
“Something else,” Wilson continued. “And I’m not sure how we play this.
Kiki’s running her mouth, working Lawrence up into a lather.
Straight up, she told Lawrence you threatened him direct and called the Horsemen pussies.
She also told them that Brooklyn threatened to go to the police.
Our inside man doesn’t know what Brooklyn was supposedly going to the police about, just that Lawrence for obvious reasons doesn’t like the cops and wants Brooklyn silenced. ”
Silenced.
That meant dead.
Fuck yeah, I felt a headache coming on. I also felt my trigger finger getting itchy.
“That fucker’s not getting near Brooklyn.”
“You’re right, he’s not. But now we gotta figure out how we’re gonna spin this. Did you know Brooklyn has a Ring camera?”
I didn’t know; the first time I went to Brooklyn’s I’d been nervous as hell and hadn’t been paying attention, the second time the bathroom had been flooding, and the third time I’d entered her house I was with Remington who’d been rambling about football and again I wasn’t looking around her front porch.
“I didn’t. Audio?”
“Yep. We have the whole conversation. Now, we turn this over to Lawrence, he finds out the bitch is lying and Kiki goes missing, and this time it’s for real and with no hope of ever finding her, but your problem’s solved. The Welshes, however…”
Wilson let that hang. I didn’t need him to explain what the Welshes would endure.
Kiki would be gone in a very permanent way and it was unlikely they’d find a body to bury.
Michael and Tallulah would live out the rest of their lives never knowing what happened to their child.
Letty would always wonder where her sister was, and Brooklyn would live with that bullshit argument being her last memory of Kiki.
Fuck.
I wanted Kiki exposed but I didn’t want her death or the Welshes’ grief on my conscience.
Needing to think on the Kiki situation, I tabled the discussion and went back to Brooklyn’s doorbell camera.
“Did the Ring catch the shooting?”
“Not anything useful. The range is the porch and the walkway, doesn’t capture the street at all.”
I figured that was the case. If the camera had captured the car Wilson would’ve led with that.
“And Desi?”
“In the wind. Jack and Asher are leaving in about an hour to go hunting. Shep’s working multiple angles but so far nothing. Think on how you wanna play Kiki and call me later. I’m gonna try to get some shuteye before the next trauma hits. But before I go, how are Brooklyn and Remington holding up?”
Wilson’s question made my gut tighten. Remington was struggling but at four he couldn’t process what had happened in a way where he could pinpoint what had scared him the most—the shooting, being in the house alone, or both.
He was afraid and didn’t want to be alone, that wasn’t surprising but what had shocked me was the way he’d clung to me.
His mom, absolutely but I was still a stranger to him and he hadn’t wanted me out of his sight.
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t feel good.
But I hated the reason why my son wanted me close.
Silver lining was he did, and I was all too happy to spend time with him.
Brooklyn was holding on but doing it because Remington needed her to.
If she wasn’t distracted by Remy she was in her head thinking.
And the woman couldn’t mask a thought; her facial expressions gave her away, especially when she frowned or wrinkled her forehead.
But seeing as Remy wanted us both close I hadn’t been able to have a real discussion about what was on her mind.
“They’re both freaked. Brooklyn’s worried Michael and Tallulah are pissed at her for withholding her visit with Kiki.
She’s worried about their safety. She’s scared and worried about Remy and his state of mind, which is fucked because he was huddled on the floor in his kitchen while bullets tore through his home.
And I think it’s sinking in how screwed up Kiki is and she’s feeling guilty thinking it’s her fault since the selfish bitch straight out blamed Brooklyn for all of her problems.”
“You gotta see her through that, brother, before that shit digs in and festers. Women take on shit that is not theirs to bear and they do it quietly until the weight’s so heavy they can’t see their way out of it. Give her something good to focus on.”
Again with the sage advice that sounded a lot like Wilson was drawing from personal experience, which again made me wonder what the man was hiding. He’d never mentioned a woman in his life.
“You say that like you got experience with a woman holding on to something that wasn’t hers.”
There was a beat of silence that led into five and I didn’t think he was going to answer so when he did I was unprepared.
“More than you know,” he rumbled. “And trust me, the results of not unburdening your soul, not trusting your partner to take on the pain and walk you through it is downright disturbing. So, when I tell you to not let Brooklyn internalize this shit I mean dig that cancer out now before it’s too late. ”
A chill washed over me and goose bumps rose on my arms.
“You need to unburden your soul, brother?”
Wilson huffed out a humorless, bitter laugh.
“When you come home and find your wife hanging in your bedroom with a suicide note laying on the bed you shared with her and the note lists your transgressions like a grocery list you immediately find a way to process that tragedy and move the fuck on, or the pain doesn’t eat at you—it devours you until there’s nothing left. ”
“Jesus fuck.”
“Long time ago. Also found out after the fact Barb had suffered from depression since childhood. But no one told me. Not her parents, not her. They hid it like mental illness was some dark and dirty secret instead of telling me, her husband, so I could fucking help her. At least watch for signs it was taking her under. And that was something she blamed me for in her note. Not knowing, not taking care of her, me leaving on deployments, her going dark and me not being there. So seeing my wife the way I saw her, I dealt with it and after that, I turned into a cold motherfucker who firmly put the blame on the people who should’ve fucking told me.
“Now, I’m not saying your situation’s the same, not even close, but the fact remains most women, they’re nurturers, they’re fixers, they’re emotional.
And when you find a woman who means something to you, you better bust your ass to give her a safe place to land when it gets to be too much.
Take it from a man who fucked up huge and didn’t handle his woman with the care she needed. ”
That was bullshit.
“Sounds to me like you haven’t given the blame to anyone, Wilson. You’re holding on tight when it clearly wasn’t your fault.”
“Not to be a dick and I appreciate what you’re saying but she was my wife, my responsibility and I missed something important.
I’d be even less of a man if I didn’t acknowledge that.
Now I’m ending this fucked-up conversation because I’m done talking about this and also because I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours which has obviously loosened my tongue.
So before I tell you more about my fucked-up past, I’m hanging up. ”
And hang up is what he did.