15. Butch
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BUTCH
A s much as I was looking forward to round two last night with Candy, it wasn’t in the cards. After a hot shower with my goddess, followed by the best back rub I’ve received in my life, I passed out on the bed with my favorite pink-haired woman falling asleep pressed tight against my back. Between the lack of sleep the night before, traveling all day, and the stress of uncertainty of our relationship, we needed some solid rest.
My morning wood was shit out of luck— again —when Atlas called a sunrise meeting. It was the only time Piero Bianchi would meet on short notice. It seems a mobster’s life doesn’t offer much flexibility in schedule.
Unfortunately for me, my full attention is necessary for this meeting, and I regret not grabbing coffee from the kitchen before joining the gathering.
The tension in the main conference room at headquarters is a full-blown ten, probably because Piero sits across from Atlas with a glare that could stop an elderly person’s heart on the spot.
The young mafia don is nearly a carbon copy of his deceased cousin, only younger—black slicked back hair, dark, soulless eyes, a long, lean frame accentuating his southern Italian ethnicity. Most women would swoon over his notably good looks. All I see is a menace in a ridiculously expensive designer suit.
Piero steeples his fingers in front of him, eyeing Prez like he wants to pummel him. “Excuse me for asking for clarification. There’s no way I heard you correctly. It sounded like you were accusing me of abducting young women and selling them into sexual slavery.”
Atlas stares unflinchingly back at the mobster, his face unreadable. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. Only asking if you were trafficking women.”
Piero snaps, hitting the table with his fist. “Are you fucking joking me with this shit, Atlas? You know my personal experience with my sister forced to marry a pig who raped her. Do you believe I’d subject another human to the same abuse my sister endured?”
“No, I don’t,” Atlas says stoically. “But I still need to ask the questions and uncover the truth.”
“Fuck you and your asinine questions.” Miffed, Piero points at his head. “Why would the possibility even cross your mind?”
Atlas jaw ticks from side to side. He’s not used to being yelled at or having his actions questioned. A deep scowl transforms his face, shadowing his eyes in darkness.
His voice is low with warning as he says, “I ask these questions to rule you out, Piero. To cross you off the list of suspects any justice system would create based on your family history alone. I do it to clear your name and move on to more likely culprits. It’s my damn job, and I won’t let the FBI railroad you into being their prime suspect if I can help it.”
The two men stare at each other, sizing each other up. Another uneasy minute passes before Piero looks away with a resigning sigh. The room releases an audible exhale.
Jesus, that was intense.
Bikers and mobsters don’t mesh usually. Have one unintentionally insult the other, and you could be in the middle of a turf war. Atlas handled the crucial confrontation like a seasoned veteran .
Piero glowers, but his anger is reined in, replaced with a cold exterior. “As infuriating as your ludicrous questions are, I understand you asking them and appreciate you doing it to eliminate me and my crew from your list of suspects.”
“We good?” Atlas asks, sizing up the mobster.
Piero smirks at our president. “We’re family.”
Atlas’s lips turn down. “No offense, hermano , but your track record with offing relatives doesn’t comfort me.”
The don snickers. “We don’t share blood. Therefore, you’re safe. You’re mio fratello by choice.”
“And you’re mine,” Atlas swears vehemently.
“As your brother, I’m not too happy with you at the moment.”
“Understandable.”
All humor gone, the don sinks deeper into his chair and drums his fingers on the table. “How many?”
“As of today, sixty-four women total. Three from Fort Collins. Thirteen from Pueblo. Ten from Boulder. Nine from Durango. Five from Fairplay. Seven from Aspen. And seventeen from Denver,” Atlas answers solemnly.
Piero snarls something in Italian. His protection detail stiffens behind him. I may not speak his native tongue, but I can tell it’s bad news. Whatever he’s muttering, it’s serious enough to make his men skittish.
“War is no good when we don’t know who we’re fighting,” Atlas answers the don, able to interpret Piero’s thick Italian.
“Reminding Denver residents I own the territory may be the only thing to stop these vile pieces of shit from entering my city. Sometimes fear keeps you safe,” Piero retorts ominously. He jabs the table with his index finger. “And I’m responsible for keeping my city safe, am I not?”
“You don’t want the residents of Denver to fear you, Piero,” Atlas attempts to reason. “If you aren’t like your cousin who reigned before you, you won’t instill terror in those in your community.”
“Fine. What do you suggest ? ” Piero asks, with a tired sigh .
“Tell us what you know of your cousin’s past dabbles in the flesh trade.”
Piero raises an eyebrow. “Why? Do you suspect someone close to Lorenzo took over after he was killed?”
Atlas shrugs. “Possibly.”
The don scoffs. “Impossible. I cleaned house when I came to Denver. Anyone who worked for Lorenzo, who was loyal to him, or favored the old ways was…” Piero pauses before smiling sinisterly at Atlas. “…terminated.”
Piero’s men muffle their laughter.
Yeah, we all know what his termination entails.
“You did a fine job of removing the filth within the Denver Bianchi organization. However, Lorenzo had his hands in many business dealings, entertained a lot of wealthy men with the women he provided. Perhaps it was a client of his, seeing an opportunity to make a big payday.”
Prez mentioning Lorenzo’s brothel reminds me of the trauma my woman endured. My fists clench on top of the conference table, cracking under the pressure.
Always ready to be in my business, Ziggy sees the change in my demeanor. He subtly slides his chair closer to mine, possibly worried I’ll have an outburst and wanting to be near to stop it from happening. I ignore him, too pissed to care if he needs to be my bouncer.
Nothing misses the don’s attention. Piero cocks his head at me before turning back to Atlas. “Wouldn’t these questions be better asked of those who worked for my cousin?”
As if they have the same person in mind, Atlas and Piero focus on Tank on the other side of the table—a previous Bianchi mob security specialist under Lorenzo. Tank flipped to our side when he befriended Jo. He now works security for our MC and is one of two bodyguards for Prez’s wife.
The six-eight giant notices he’s being singled out. His blue eyes dart between Atlas and Piero, widening with alarm.
Tank shakes his big head, waving his hands—palms out in front of him. “No, no, no, no. Don’t ask me shit about Lorenzo’s flesh trade business dealings. My job was head of security in the underground casinos. I didn’t know a brothel existed, nor did I see Butch’s woman around Lorenzo.”
“Butch’s woman?” Piero muses aloud, his brows pinched together in confusion.
Tank points at me. “Yeah, Butch. His woman is Candy—an MC woman in our club.”
How fucking dare he!
I sit forward in my chair, ready to strangle the muscle head for bringing my woman into this conversation. I don’t give a shit how big the former marine is—the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
“Shut your damn hole, or I’ll do it for you,” I hiss at Tank, ready to jump across the table and make good on my threat.
My biker brother realizes his mistake. “Sorry, Butch,” Tank mutters, with chagrin.
Piero turns his quizzical gaze on me. “How was your Candy affiliated with my cousin?”
A growl rumbles in my chest, detest for Piero’s cousin surfacing. “Your shit-stain of a cousin trafficked my woman. Five goddamn years she suffered at his hand.”
Piero’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. He looks at Atlas with surprise. “You mean you have an inside source and you aren’t questioning her?”
Atlas mood darkens. His face hardens as he says, “Candy is off limits.”
Damn right she is!
“We don’t subject our women to questioning, especially when it involves their abusive past,” Gauge adds bitingly. The VP is probably thinking of what his wife went through. Back when her abuser was alive, questioning Opal about him would’ve set her back on her healing journey. Gauge seems to not want Candy to endure it either.
“She may have vital intel for our case,” Piero says, flabbergasted with our reasoning.
Atlas balks. “ Our case?”
“Yes. Ours. You honestly think I’m not getting involved with this investigation when women are disappearing from my city under my watch? What does that say to others scouting my territory? That I’m a doormat to be taken advantage of? If I don’t intervene, I’ll have other crime syndicates breathing down my neck. I have no choice but to be involved.”
Piero turns to his bodyguard on his right. “Tell Angelo to clear my schedule for the week. I’m needed here.”
“Yes, Boss,” the bodyguard says with a slight bow of his head, pulling out his phone to call Piero’s personal assistant.
“Now wait a goddamn minute,” Atlas interjects. “You can’t get involved with our investigation, Piero. You could compromise our position.”
“Compromise it how? As far as everyone in law enforcement and the underworld is concerned, I’m a dirty crook. I may as well play the part to figure out who’s behind abducting people in our state. My position could help your team penetrate circles otherwise inaccessible to your crew.”
“He’s got a point,” Gauge murmurs to Atlas. “We could get in faster with his connections.”
The don agrees, nodding. “You pulled me into this mess when you questioned me. I’m here now. Let me work my magic. I’ll put out some feelers and see who bites.”
Atlas scowls but doesn’t dismiss Piero’s involvement again.
“You would be foolish not to ask Butch’s woman what she knows,” Piero insists.
“Not my place,” Atlas says sternly to the don before turning to me with a deadpan stare.
Oh, hell no!
My face must say what my inner monologue is shouting. Gauge immediately jumps to my defense. “Atlas, be reasonable. Candy has been through enough shit. ”
“Gauge,” Atlas cautions his best friend to stay out of it before he turns his attention back to me.
I stare back at Atlas, unflinching.
Atlas’s face softens as much as his hard mug allows. “Candy did great on the Sacramento assignment. Kept Cynthia Higgins away from my sister-in-law, gave Trent someone else to focus his attention on, and handled the shootout at the accounting firm like a pro.”
What’s Atlas getting at? I say nothing, waiting to hear more.
“Your woman is a natural in the field. Nothing gets through her thick skin.”
True. Candy did her assignment perfectly and has been unaffected by the shit that went down.
“Perhaps we need to give her some credit for her efforts and not assume she’s a dainty flower that’ll wilt when questioned about Lorenzo’s trafficking ring.”
“No,” I clip, nearly snarling.
Chase, who’s been mostly silent during the exchange with Piero, weighs in. “Bro, I get it. I went through the same shit with Simone prior to leaving for Sacramento. I didn’t want my woman involved any more than you want your woman involved.”
“The difference,” I grit through my teeth, “is the persons involved in the Sacramento investigation didn’t rape your wife.”
“We’re not asking her more than filling us in on what she knows,” Atlas says in a placating tone.
I look around the table, hoping to find another brother to come to my defense.
Gauge, who previously was on my side, says nothing as he glares at the conference table in front of him. Either he’s afraid of Atlas reprimanding him or he’s turned coat. Considering Gauge has never had a problem calling out Atlas on his shit, it’s clear he’s flipped on me. He may hate the idea of digging into Candy’s past abuse, but he probably sees no alternative if we’re to get to the bottom of this case.
Tank won’t dare make eye contact with me, as he shouldn’t. He drug Candy into this mess. All my other brothers give me empathetic looks, but none shares my position.
“If there was another way, you know we’d leave Candy out of this mess. We’ll not ask invasive questions—” Atlas tries again to reason, but I cut him off.
“It’s all invasive,” I shout heatedly, ignoring the strain on my weak vocal cords.
My brothers flinch, not used to hearing me raise my voice in anger. They’re used to my low tones and ragged murmurs.
Livid, I glare at Atlas. “What you’re asking is wrong. And what’s worse is, you know it’s not okay. There’s no way you’d put Jo through this.”
The room falls eerily silent. Everyone looks ready to jump out of their seats to stop a brawl from happening—like I’m David, about to face a modern day Goliath. It’s a fair comparison, given our size difference.
I expect Atlas to fly off the handle, flip a table, or toss a chair. Hell, if I was within arm’s reach, I’d expect him to grab me by my cut and haul me across the table before throwing me against the wall. All things he’s known for when tested, especially when his wife is in the middle of it.
To my shock, he does none of those things.
His cold black eyes go distant, like he’s deep in thought. “There are many things I’ve handled poorly in my relationship with Jo.”
Atlas slowly stands from his seat and walks the length of the room, pacing like a lion ready to break through his cage. His posture is stiff, militant. The muscles in his exposed neck and forearms taut. He’s on the cusp of going all Hulk smash , but he’s keeping himself in check.
“I invaded her privacy by having Chase run a background check on her and combed through her social media accounts. When on my first mission after meeting her, I ignored her calls and text, leaving her to think I fucked her and left her. On my order, Jo continued to see a therapist she didn’t trust for our crew to find out if Lorenzo was keeping tabs on her. I gave a hacker a pass after she invaded my wife’s therapy notes, knowing it would hurt my wife, but doing it anyway to fucking nail Lorenzo to the damn wall. And I wasn’t there for her when not one, not two, but three different fuckers abducted my wife. And one of them damn near kept her hidden from me.”
A rush of memories floods my mind, recalling all those moments Atlas is reminding me of. There’s plenty Atlas should have handled differently with Jo. I recall thinking Atlas was love-blind half the time. And the other half… ah, fuck .
The other half was always outside of his control, having him pick the lesser of two evils.
Atlas opens his hands out by his sides, accepting his transgressions. “I inserted myself into her life when I knew keeping her would put her in harm’s way. But I’m a selfish bastard and married her, filling her with my babies.”
He sighs, stopping in front of me. “There are a lot of choices I made in my relationship I should’ve handled differently. Unfortunately, most of the situations I found myself in were out of my hands. Given the opportunity to go back in time, knowing the outcome I do now, I would do the same damn things. I made the right calls.”
I look away from Prez, unable to accept the inevitable.
“Candy could be a wealth of information,” Atlas continues. “You know it. I know it. The whole crew knows it. But until we question her, we’ll never know. And this case will continue to sit with those women still missing. If Candy is uncomfortable with the questions, she can take a break and come back to them. If a question is a hard pass, we’ll not push. We aren’t looking for the specifics of what was done to her, but what she knows of Lorenzo’s trafficking operation. That’s it.”
“We can always have Brandon on-site in case Candy needs an immediate therapy session with her counselor,” Gauge suggests.
“We can clear the room, so the questions are left to Atlas and Gauge. The rest of us can listen and ask questions over speaker in the tech room,” Punk suggests. “You can be present, too, Butch. I’m sure Candy would appreciate your support during the questioning.”
“If the solution is to have a counselor on-site and clear the room for questioning, you already know this will be bad for Candy,” I seethe.
“It’s all we got, brother,” Chase intones.
Unable to lift my head, I sense, more than see, my brothers all nodding.
I hear all the words they’re preaching, yet none of it is sinking in. My brain pulses painfully in my skull, and I rub at my temples as a headache forms.
I turn to my best friend sitting beside me. Ziggy eyes me with remorse, swallowing as he says, “I know this sucks, Butch. But if she can help direct us, it could save lives.”
“At what cost to Candy?”
Ziggy looks away, muttering an apology.
A sound of disgust rips through my throat as I shove away from the table. “Fuck the lot of you.”
Livid, I speed stride toward the exit.
“Butch!” Ziggy hollers behind me. “Wait up, man.”
But I don’t stop. I’m in no headspace to discuss my feelings rationally. With how protective I am for my woman, the word rational is nonexistent.
There’s only one person who can settle the squall brewing inside of me, and she’s upstairs, asleep in our bed.