Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ansel
Ansel sat in his office, staring at the picture on his desk of Kaylee he’d taken in October, just before she’d disappeared.
She was walking to class ahead of Elasia, smiling and spinning back and forth as she talked to her friend.
For a quiet girl, she was always in motion, her blond hair in loose curls swirling around her shoulders.
Her hazel eyes were sparkling, leaning more toward green than gray that day.
So beautiful. He’d wanted her from the first time he saw her, but he’d been playing the long game, hoping that the more time she spent in his world, the more she’d want to be a part of it.
Only Wyatt hadn’t been able to convince her to partake in any of the shipments he moved, and Kaylee continued to rebuff Ansel at every turn.
And then she’d disappeared the same night he killed Elasia and Wyatt.
He could have chalked it up to a coincidence if she’d gone home to her parents or anywhere familiar, but he’d sent the boys every place he could think of that she might hide.
When the suit arrived at her apartment, and Johnny saw her car parked outside the police station, it was obvious that Kaylee knew what had happened to her friend and was hiding from him.
How much she told the FBI was the question, and it was one he had been asking himself for two years, expecting the other shoe to drop.
Every day he waited for the feds to show up at his door, but nothing had happened. Even with the bug planted in the light inside his office, they didn’t have anything on him, or they would have hauled his ass in ages ago.
Instead, Ansel slept easily, enjoying his freedom.
If only he could find Kaylee, there was still a chance he could make her understand, make her loyal to him.
He got up from his desk and exited his office, craving a whiskey on the rocks. The bar was closed today, with only members inside, and everyone had their seats pulled in a semicircle around the TV, arguing.
“I told you, it’s my turn to pick!” Harlan snapped, yanking the remote out of Clyde’s hand and flipping through the channels.
Rocky launched himself at Harlan, who kicked the other man away. “Settle down, asshole.”
“You got to pick last week!” Rocky spewed from his place on the ground.
Harlan ignored him and flipped one more channel, settling back in his chair. On the screen, a balding man was talking about lighting a potato. The arguing stopped, although there were a few grumbles, as his guys seemed riveted, ignoring his presence.
Ansel picked up a bottle and scooped some ice into a glass, pouring the amber liquid over the shiny cubes. He put the bottle away, watching his men with a shake of his head.
“Not a full sack among any of you, is there?” A few turned around, as if realizing he’d been there a while, and no one noticed, but he wasn’t angry at them.
Just surprised they weren’t scrambling to apologize.
His entire operation ran on fear, and once they stopped being scared of him, he’d find himself on his knees, then a bullet in his brain.
“What the hell are you watching?” Ansel asked.
“Small Town USA,” Harlan said, glancing over his shoulder so Ansel got a good look at his ugly, bearded mug.
He still sported the scar where Ansel hit him with his fist after he’d put a hand on Kaylee, but it wasn’t the first scuffle they’d had and Harlan was loyal as a dog.
“It’s their Christmas episode. They light a giant potato in their town square. ”
It sounded idiotic to Ansel, but who was he to judge? “Where is this place?”
“Small town in Idaho.”
Ansel didn’t say anything else, just tipped back his whiskey, swallowing it down, enjoying the burn as it warmed his body.
Things hadn’t been good with the feds watching them.
He couldn’t move product the way they used to, and their manufacturing had been down since no one would buy.
If only they could get the FBI off their back.
“Hold up,” Clyde said, getting up from his chair and blocking the TV. The guys started yelling and cursing, but he hollered over them, “Can you pause this?”
Harlan paused the show, and Clyde pointed to a face in the crowd.
“What do you see?” Ansel asked, coming around the bar.
Harlan stood, stroking his black beard as he joined Clyde in front of the screen.
“Who does that look like?” Clyde asked, his eyes glittering triumphantly.
Ansel stopped next to Clyde and Harlan and stilled, staring at the screen. The crowd of men gathered closer behind him to get a look at what Clyde had seen.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Ansel’s face.
“Sweet Kaylee.”