Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
B ex was furious. She understood it, but she was furious. Furious that Seabrook and her captain put her in this position. Furious that she couldn’t see her family or go home. Furious that Wilder was fighting her fight for her. She was supposed to be the one to take down the drugs being distributed in WET. Bex was furious that she was relying on Wilder to find out if Fergus Kelly was drugging the women at WET and why. She was furious that she was sitting in Wilder’s house in Charleston while he was flying on Ryker’s plane to New York City.
“I can hear you growling. Want to go smash something?” Damon asked as he looked up from where he was sitting across from her reading a book. Damon had been assigned to be her babysitter for the evening. Wilder had correctly assumed that if Bex could find a way to New York, she would take it.
The doorbell rang and Damon was instantly on alert. “Open the door. It’s me and I have wine.”
Bex grinned and got up to open the door to find Pen and Olivia. Pen was holding two bottles of wine and Olivia was holding to-go bags from The Pink Pig and Lowcountry Smokehouse.
“We thought you might want a girls’ night,” Pen said as she strode into the house and rolled her eyes at Damon. “That means no boys.”
“Not going to happen, Pen.”
“You can stay in the apartment Pen normally stays in,” Olivia said as she breezed by them and headed for the kitchen. “I brought you a barbeque sandwich, but you’ll only get it if you go to the apartment. There’s an intercom and you can see both the front and back of the house.”
Olivia reached into the bag from Lowcountry Smokehouse, pulled out a to-go box, and held it out for Damon. Bex watched as Damon reluctantly stood up and snagged the to-go box.
“I’ll be checking in regularly.”
Bex, Pen, and Olivia watched as Damon headed to the apartment over the garage. “Finally,” Pen said with a roll of her eyes. “Now, spill.”
Bex sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island as Pen poured the wine and Olivia set out boxes of food, each one smelling better than the last. “Spill what?”
Pen rolled her eyes. “I don’t want details, but you totally love my brother, right?”
Bex took a deep drink of the wine. Girl talk wasn’t really her thing. She had all brothers and all male cousins. Sure, she had girl friends in school, but most were tomboys like she’d been. Sadly, the popular girly girls who pretended to be her friends didn’t care about Bex. Only her brothers. They’d used Bex to get invited over to her house and then had spent the whole evening flirting with her brothers and cousins.
“You’re not pretending to care just to hit on my brothers, are you?” Bex asked with a little laugh that still held a twinge of bitterness.
“You too?” Pen asked with her eyes wide.
“Oh, we know all about that.” Olivia handed Bex a plate and silverware. “You can imagine the girls that tried to be our friends just to get the attention of our brothers.”
Bex made a sound of disbelief. Pen and Olivia were bombshells. Tall and curvy with stunning features. Definitely not what Bex was as a teenager. “Ha! You two were the popular girls. I was a curly-haired, wild tomboy who punched her brothers, could make a nun blush, and invented curse words to shout at my brothers when they picked on me. We were not running in the same circles.”
Olivia snorted. That alone was enough to throw Bex for a loop. “Oh, Bex. I was the biggest nerd you’d ever seen. I was probably the least popular girl in the school.”
“Same. I was so scrawny from all the ballet I did and I was so busy at the studio that most of my classmates weren’t even sure I still went to the same school. Liv and I are what you call late bloomers. Now, about my brother?” Pen asked again.
“Of course I love him. I didn’t mean to, but I think I did the first time I saw him at his club,” Bex admitted before downing the rest of her wine. Talking about feelings wasn’t her strong suit.
“Before he rescued you?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah. I knew he was a good guy before I even stepped foot in his club. However, the feelings surprised me. Wilder isn’t exactly in my league or even my type.”
“Wilder isn’t out of your league. He’s a small-town guy,” Olivia defended as if owning his own jet was typical of small-town guys. Although, Ryker also had a jet. Maybe it was?
Pen filled her wine glass up to the top. “What’s your type, usually?”
“Guys from Brooklyn who are obsessed with sports, their mothers, and talking trash to each other. They’re the only ones not intimidated by my family. They can usually hold on for a date or two before they get knocked down a couple of pegs by my family.” Bex filled her plate and the three of them sat down to eat.
“I’m glad you love my brother,” Pen said. “Wilder needs someone down-to-earth. He doesn’t like being known as only the nightclub guy. He’s just him. The same guy who brought his little sister roses when she had a recital and the same guy who helped Forrest and Rowan with their homework after school.”
Aww. Bex could see Wilder doing that. It was one of the things she loved about him. That he really was a good guy.
“I agree,” Olivia added. “You two are perfect for each other. Plus, you were a good sport about my little revenge night. Luckily, my idiot brothers have all somehow convinced the perfect women to marry them.”
“Well, now that I feel like I’m perfect,” Bex said with a little giggle. The wine was making her feel very happy right now. “I want to know about Pen’s flirtation with the mafia.”
“Yeah, Pen. I always knew you liked the bad boys, but mafia?” Olivia took a sip of her wine before taking another bite of the most amazing barbeque Bex had ever had.
Pen rolled her eyes. “I’m not into bad boys. I just did that as a teen to piss off the brothers. Actually, I spend most of my time fighting off the advances of rich assholes. It kind of kills my desire to date, especially guys I know are rich assholes like Nico or Nikolas.”
Bex frowned. “I think Nico is . . . nice? Can a mobster be nice? And what is it that you do exactly?”
Pen shrugged. “I do something different every day.”
“I agree with Bex. Nico is a good guy. I was worried when I first met him, but now I trust him enough to help my friends and family when needed. He’s smart, too. Like me, but with business.”
“So, what you’re saying is he’s a nerd disguised as a bad boy. Pass.”
“Then you might want to stop leading him on,” Olivia warned. “And there’s nothing wrong with badass nerds. I am one after all.”
The girls laughed until the sound of several cars pulling up the drive stopped them. Olivia moved fast for someone in heels. “Pen, call Damon. We have company.”
Bex had her gun in her hand and was taking a defensive position by the window when the three SUVs pulled to a stop. Damon was already emerging from the apartment with a shotgun when she saw the SUV doors open.
“Oh shit.”
* * *
Success hadn’t changed any of the Townsends. Sure, they might fly private and they might have some nice clothes—well, Liv for sure—but for the most part, it hadn’t changed anything beyond the surface. They were the same people who had wrestled each other in the front yard of their small home. They were the same people who had fit four to a room. They were the same people who showed up, time and time again, to support each other. Which was why it was always funny to Wilder to see his siblings in action. He’d watched Olivia tear apart a case. He’d watched Rowan save a life on death’s doorstep. He’s watched news reports of military special ops doing something heroic, knowing it was Hunter. He watched Stone power down the ice on the way to a Stanley Cup. He went into Forrest’s lab where he invented programs, equipment, and more to help find answers to global questions, like water shortages, infestations, and overdevelopment.
Now he stood in Hoboken, New Jersey, right across the river from New York City, and looked up at Damon’s shop. You’d never know it looking at Damon, but he’d turned his high school job as a mechanic in their small Upstate New York town into the top national garage. Celebrities were on years-long waitlists to have Damon either make them a custom motorcycle or to remodel their cars or bikes. In traditional Damon-style, he had three mechanics in each garage who did nothing but pro bono work for people whose rides had broken down and couldn’t afford to have them fixed. Each mechanic worked an eight-hour shift so someone was always at the garage helping people out. Sometimes payment was made on a sliding scale, sometimes repayment was made by food or volunteering in the community, and sometimes there was no payment at all. No one knew about it but the people in the area of his garages. It was never publicized and Damon never commented on it when asked about it. He had garages in Hoboken, L.A., Dallas, Atlanta, and a very small shop in Charleston that all operated on this principle.
That’s why Wilder knew someone would be at Damon’s Custom Garage. The street was dark as most of the warehouses and garages were closed for the night. Wilder could smell the nearby Hudson River as he approached the shop. The lights were on and the sounds of rock music drifted out of the open bay door. However, inside the main lobby the lights were dimmed and Wilder saw a mother and two children asleep on the couches.
The night mechanic saw Wilder get out of the cab and instantly went on alert. He approached Wilder with a huge wrench in one grease-smudged hand. “Can I help you?”
“Tommy?” Wilder asked, knowing that’s who he was. “I’m Wilder Townsend. My brother, Damon, said he’d called you.”
Tommy didn’t back down yet. He planted himself between the open door and the inside of the garage. “ID.”
Wilder thought about questioning it, but he figured it was easier to just show him his ID. Wilder pulled it out and handed it to him. Tommy looked it over and handed it back. His shoulders relaxed and he gestured with his head to follow him over to the beat-up minivan that looked ready to fall apart if there was a strong breeze.
“I just wanted to make sure you are who you say you are. Damon called and told me you were meeting some of the guys here.” Tommy looked at the digital clock on the wall. “They should be here any minute.”
A rumble was heard and a moment later a dozen motorcycles pulled into the lot. Some were customized, some were restored, and some just had some mechanical enhancements made to them.
They cut their engines and the leader of the crew walked toward them. He wore jeans and a leather jacket with a flaming sword down the middle of justice scales with MMC arched around it. The man was huge—at least six foot six and three hundred pounds of ripped muscle. The men who fell in line behind him ranged in height, weight, and appearance, but all carried the don’t mess with me look and wore the same leather jacket.
“Tommy. You have something for us?” the leader asked.
“Yeah. I’ll get her.” Wilder had thought he was talking about him, but instead Tommy walked inside the shop.
“I’m Wilder Townsend. Thanks for helping me out tonight.” Wilder didn’t bother to hold out his hand. These were not handshaking nice to meet you type of people.
“I’m Minotaur. Damon said you weren’t a rich douchebag, but I’m beginning to think this is the first time Damon has ever lied to me.”
Wilder smiled, but it wasn’t one of laughter. It was one of menace. “Don’t let this handsome face fool you. I can hold my own.”
Before Wilder could say more, the mother who had been asleep on the couch came out looking nervous. Wilder could see why. Her eyes were turning black and blue and there was a split lip that had recently clotted. She was holding her hand, which obviously had been burned with what Wilder would guess were cigarettes.
“Ma’am,” Minotaur said in a gentle voice. “I’m Minotaur, the leader of the New York Minos Motorcycle Club. Did Tommy tell you we were coming?”
The woman couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. She looked gaunt with malnourishment as she shook her head. “Please don’t take my babies.”
“We aren’t here to hurt you. Minos was the King of Crete back in ancient Greece. He was known to be a fair judge. When he died, he was chosen to be the deciding vote in Hades if a soul went to the Fields of Elysium or the Pits of Tartarus to suffer for eternity. That’s what we do. We decide the fate of people brought to us. Do they go to heaven or hell? If they go to heaven, we let them walk away. If we judge them guilty, we send them to hell.” Wilder watched as the woman began to back up, thinking Minotaur was there to judge her. “Tell us who did this to you and we’ll judge them for you.”
Wilder kept his mouth shut. Damon had told him this gang was just that. A gang. They weren’t nice guys even if they did nice things for someone. Because those nice things ended in pain and death for someone else. The woman began to shake. “My husband will kill me.”
“Not if we kill him first. Just tell us what happened.”
“He thought dinner wasn’t warm enough,” she said in barely a whisper.
“Did he hit the children?” Minotaur asked. Wilder saw the man’s jaw muscle tic as he ground his jaw tightly. It was then Wilder realized he was doing the same.
Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I tried to protect them. He burned my hand to try to force me to let go of my babies, but I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t let him hit them again. I came here because Damon let it be known in the community that this was a safe place. I need to make a run for it, but my car . . . it needs a new radiator or I wouldn’t get more than five miles.”
“What’s your husband’s name and address?” Wilder found himself asking. If Minotaur didn’t pay him a visit, Wilder would.
That earned a nod of respect from a couple of the club members before the woman told them.
“Styx,” Minotaur told one of the men. “Take Serpent and render judgment.” Two men left the group and headed down the street where Wilder wasn’t to ask any questions when the name appeared as a missing person. “Cypress and Key will follow you to wherever you need to go as protection. Then in two days you will come back and answer any questions the police have. That way you and your children can make a fresh start.”
The woman buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Wilder heard her sobs of gratitude but also panic. She didn’t have anywhere to go. She didn’t have any money.
“Ma’am,” Wilder said after her sobs quieted. He could tell she was too overwhelmed to make any decisions. “Do you have a job?” She shook her head. “Do you know how to clean?” She looked up at him and it crushed him to see how young she was. She was probably Pen’s age. “Do you want a job cleaning?”
She looked hesitant and untrusting and he couldn’t blame her. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “But my babies.”
“Then this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to report to this address tomorrow at ten. A man named Bryce will be there. He will get you set up with a cleaning job to start with. Until you get a steady income, you will use this cash to pay to rent a studio apartment. You can use some of it tonight for a motel. You will work while the kids are at school. I believe you’ll find the public school in this area to be very good,” Wilder said, pulling out his wallet and a stack of 100s and handing it to her.
“Your car is ready.” Tommy walked over to her and handed her the keys. “And I filled it with gas.”
“You are angels,” she whispered as she clutched the business card and the money to her chest before rushing to get her children. Two men who must have been Cypress and Keys stepped forward to guard the door.
“So,” Minotaur said, turning to glare down at Wilder. “You’re rich, but you’re not a douchebag. Now, Damon promised we got to beat the shit out of Fergus Kelly’s crew.”
“I need answers before we beat them too badly.”
“He sells those drugs they tried planting on you to kids. We’re not there to chat.” Minotaur got on his bike.
Wilder reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys Damon had given him. “Give me one second to get my bike and we can go.” He walked into the garage bay Tommy had open and used a key to get into a smaller locked bay at the end of the building. He flipped on the lights and headed to the bike he recognized. It was Damon’s bike from high school. Every other bike in this bay was worth a hundred thousand dollars or more except for this one. However, the sentimental value far outweighed everything else. Wilder grabbed the black matte helmet that hung on its handlebars and pulled it on before throwing his leg over it. “Hello old friend. Don’t throw me off like you did when Damon taught me how to ride you.”
Wilder revved the bike to life. It was time to find out why Fergus Kelly was trying to destroy everything Wilder worked so hard to build.