Chapter Four
Rebel
Wiping sweat from my brow, I get off the chest press and grab a towel, running it over my face and neck. I don’t go to commercial gyms, this place is owned by one of the MC brothers. I needed to work off some of the pressure building inside me.
I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I’m not one to stare at myself, but I pause for a moment. In the sleeveless top and shorts, I look a million miles away from the vice president of a motorcycle club.
So many people are tattooed these days. Sleeves and neck tattoos used to instill fear or draw unwanted attention. Now every single man in here has ink. A couple of them are businessmen who showed up in suits.
My face is hard, my eyes dark and unreadable. My brows are often dipped low from all the frowning I do. Raven says I don’t smile enough, what the fuck do I have to smile about, especially these days?
I’m not one to shower in public spaces, so I grab my shit and head out. It’s only a block to my loft, so I left the bike there.
After a quick shower, I dress and check for messages. There are a lot of them, but one that makes my heart pump.
One of my contacts has seen a man who might be Kivisto.
Rebel:
Did you get a picture?
Darius:
Yeah, not the best. Swear it’s him
The picture shows a man who looks a lot like the one on the surveillance from Elegance. He’s changed clothes, but there is a dark bruise on his forehead. That is where Charley threw a tray at his head to get him to stop attacking Ellie.
We’ve found the fucker.
Rebel:
Do you still have eyes on him?
Darius:
He’s at the Harland Inn at Inner Harbor. I’m outside
Rebel:
Lay low, don’t approach him, let me know if he moves
Darius:
Got it
Blaze answers after two rings.
“I’ve had a sighting at the Harland Inn, can you check the cameras nearby?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“At Jesse’s,” he says, sounding uncomfortable.
Blaze likes his solitude. He avoids most people when he’s at the clubhouse, only hanging around when we have church. Now he’s at Jesse’s place with Jesse, Taylor and Oscar. Taylor and Jesse act like bickering siblings, and Oscar sings songs from kid’s movies on repeat, it’s hell on earth for him.
“You need a reason to escape?”
“Nero wants me here.”
“He won’t mind if you’re working this with me. The apartment has security. No one is getting inside. Find out what you can and be ready to go.”
“Thanks, man.”
“You owe me.”
Blaze hangs up. If this is Kivisto, we’re one step closer.
Fury told us a couple of days ago that Jesse’s place is like Fort Knox after taking some things over for Taylor. I’m questioned in the lobby by two men, who only allow me to enter the elevator after getting the okay from Jesse.
There are two more men outside the door when I step off it.
Jesse is a self-made millionaire, paying out for private security would be nothing to him. Neither man gives a shit that I’m staring them down, one of them turning to open the door for me.
A ball of brown and white fur comes barreling towards me, yapping and jumping. I halt my steps and stare down at the puppy.
“What the fuck is this?” I look up at Taylor.
“Language.”
Oscar’s heard enough bad words that he’s been repeating them.
The thing is biting my shoelaces. I mean, dogs do that shit, but when the shoes are on someone’s feet?
“He got a fucking puppy,” I laugh until Taylor puts a hand over her mouth. The little shit is pissing on my fucking boot. I almost kick it trying to get out of the way.
“Ollie, bad puppy,” Taylor hurries over and picks it up, but the thing is still pissing and it sprays along the hall. “Oh, shit,” she cries, setting it down again.
Jesse comes around the corner, looks at the scene, and rubs his forehead. “That is it, I’m kicking you all out,” he says to Taylor. “That dog is a menace.”
“He’s a baby. He got excited meeting Rebel,” Taylor looks at me with a pleading look.
“There is dog piss on my boot,” I deadpan. “I’m not helping you.”
The mutt has stopped peeing.
“I’ll clean it up,” Taylor says. “Just let me put him back in his playpen. Is Noah okay?” she asks me.
Playpen? For a fucking dog. When did this become Nero’s life? “He’s fine,” I say, although I haven’t spoken to him for a few hours.
Taylor is one of the very few people who gets to call Nero by his real name. From what I know of her, she’s a good person.
She stepped up and protected Oscar and Jesse when shit went down. She’s a nurse and has fit into Nero’s life well. Oscar loves her too.
Only a handful of people knew of Oscar’s existence for the first two years of his life. Now that everyone is aware, Nero has mellowed out but still keeps him protected from the dangers that come with the club. Which is why he is here with Taylor and not at Nero’s, where they would be alone.
Jesse watches her walk past, then turns to me.
“Didn’t he want to call his dog Oscar Two?” I say, shocked at myself for remembering that fact.
“The stuffed animal is Oscar Two, Ollie is the closest thing to it,” he says. Despite his exasperation, it’s clear he loves the kid. “You mind taking off your shoes?”
Not in the least. This is not how I planned on meeting a ranked member to discuss a man who tried to murder one of our dancers. I toe the wet one off with the other, so I don’t have to touch it, then pull off the other one, avoiding the puddle.
“We’ll get them cleaned up,” he says with a sigh. “Blaze is in the office, third door along the hall.”
He goes back around the corner where I can now hear happy squeals from Oscar and yappy barks from Ollie. I can think of nothing worse than going in there, so follow Jesse’s directions to the office.
It’s as big as the room where we hold church and has everything you would expect in an office, Blaze lifts his gaze to me, then at my feet, his lip twitching. I’m not even a little surprised to see he is in his socks too. Jesus Christ.
“What have you found out?”
Through the massive windows, the lights of the surrounding buildings are coming on as dusk draws in. Where the hell has this day gone?
“It’s him. Facial recognition from hotel security matches up. I’ve told Nero, he’s getting people in place.”
Resting my ass on the desk, I stare through the window. “Do we have anything more on him, did his family sanction this?”
“I don’t think so.” He leans back in the chair and stretches.
He’s been hunched over that or other electronic equipment since the second we got word about happened at Elegance.
“He is the youngest of four sons, his name is Timo. From what I can tell, the least favored. He doesn’t have the same mother as the rest of them. Markus Kivisto got one of his side pieces pregnant.”
This family’s dynamics don’t deserve any thought, let alone breath.
“Is he trying to prove something to his family by joining up with Storm?”
Blaze glances at his computer, he doesn’t have an answer to that question so doesn’t offer suggestions. Blaze has always had a ‘just the facts’ mentality, it’s pointless speculating when he can uncover cold hard facts.
If this is Kivisto breaking out on his own, then it means we might escape the wrath of a mafia family. Well, at least until we deal with the sonofabitch.
Fuck, this is another asshole we’re going to have to deal with quietly. We’ve been doing that a lot.
“I hacked security cameras at his property in Romney. Kirk Wallen has met Timo a few times since he got out of prison.”
That further pushes the narrative Kivisto is working with Storm. Kirk Wallen is a low-life petty asshole who had ties to Storm. He got out of prison recently and we suspect he's jumped straight back in with his old friend.
“Doesn’t Wallen's parole prevent him leaving the state?” I ask.
“Correctional Services are stretched. Wallen must think he is protected and not worried about going back to prison,” Blaze grimaces.
It’s frustrating as fuck we’re uncovering parts of this puzzle but not enough to see the entire picture.
“I’ll put a call in to Maguire,” I say, referring to a detective in the BPD on our payroll. “He’ll speak to his probation officer. What else do we have on Kivisto?”
“Remember I said they were fighting with that other family? They’re set up on the west coast, but for whatever reason, they’ve put in motion a plan to unite the families.
Timo married a Heikkinen. She’s the daughter of their head of the family.
From what I can tell, it’s an arranged marriage. Some kind of peace treaty.”
“Sounds like a whole lot of bullshit to me.”
“More so for her.”
“What do you mean?”
Blaze shrugs. “She had a life, a job and a place of her own. From what I can see, she didn’t interact much with her father’s business.”
I don’t feel bad about a mafia princess. The Kivisto’s mean shit to me, other than using the one in my city to get to Storm.
“He hasn’t left the room since he got there,” Blaze goes back to the matter at hand. “I’ve got to get into his phone, I need to get closer.”
“Steal it?”
“Clone it. I have to be as close as possible. I’ve already got a room booked on the same floor as him. Lily is in there. If I can get out of here and meet her, I’ll show her what to do. She’s smart and beautiful and can get close enough to Kivisto when he goes to the bar.”
Blaze is not an easy man to ignore, tall and broad with a long beard that covers his neck, he has more tattoos than any of the other brothers. Using Lily, the dancer from Elegance is smart.
“This shit has got to move fast, we can’t lose the sonofabitch.”
A bang and a yell, then loud giggles come from beyond the doorway.
“Think our shoes are clean?” I ask, getting off the desk.
“They better be,” he grumbles. “At least enough to get home and throw them in the trash. I liked those boots,” he adds wistfully.
“An old lady, a kid, and a puppy. Who the fuck is Nero these days?”
“Still the one person not afraid to kick your ass.”
Blaze closes his laptop. “Time for me to go,” he smirks at me, then passes Nero in the doorway as he heads out. “I’ll have his phone cloned as fast as we can.”
I glance at Nero’s feet, he’s still wearing his shoes. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“The dog makes him happy.”
“You couldn’t have got an older one who doesn’t piss on all your guests’ feet?”
Nero is unsuccessful in hiding his exasperation. “Can’t do anything about it now, they’re both attached to the little shit.”
“Remind me to steer clear of women and kids.”
“And their little dogs too.”
We both turn to Jesse in the doorway holding out my boots. His reference to the Wizard of Oz isn’t lost on me. When you grow up with a sister who loves musicals and schmaltzy romance movies, that shit gets stuck in your head after you've watch it nine hundred times.
“Don’t you start,” Nero groans.
“You brought a pissing and shitting monster into my house,” Jesse scowls.
“I’ve seen you playing with it. Him,” he corrects himself.
I take my boots and give them a sniff. The scent has not entirely gone, but whatever Taylor used is disguising it enough that I can make it home for a new pair.
“I’ll see you when that thing is house-trained,” I tell Jesse. He steps out of the way, and I head to where Blaze is waiting.
He stares down the corridor as I reach for the door, and I pause to see what has his attention. The only thing I see is Jesse whisper-yelling through the doorway at Nero.
“Wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy,” I laugh.
Blaze clears his throat and moves past me to go out first.
“Rebel?” Jesus, am I ever getting out of this madhouse? “Sorry about the dog. He’s just a baby.”
Taylor is holding the little fucker and he’s leaning against her chest, fighting to keep his eyes open. There is no way I’m going to admit out loud the thing is cute. When it’s sleeping.
“He is a sweetheart when he isn’t wreaking havoc,” she grins. “Want to pet him?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Nero steps up behind Taylor and pulls her back against him, glaring at me, then the puppy nestled against his old lady’s tits.
All I can do is shake my head and walk away.
“If I ever turn into that,” I tell Blaze, jamming the button to call the elevator. “Shoot me.”