Chapter Two #2
Her finger traced the complex money trail through shell corporations and dummy accounts. The path was convoluted, but consistent. Money flowed from the Horsemen’s accounts through a series of shells before disappearing into an untraceable account.
As she explained the financial labyrinth, I noticed something interesting.
Her hands remained steady when discussing the transactions themselves.
Clinical. Detached. But when she pointed to evidence suggesting high-level access -- implying the traitor was someone important in our ranks -- her fingers trembled slightly.
She wasn’t afraid for herself. She was afraid of what it meant if she was right. “Those coordinates I showed you? They match with your ambush locations. Cross-reference them with the dates. Perfect alignment.”
I pulled out my phone, checking the coordinates against our incident reports. She was right. Again. The knot in my stomach tightened. “How’d you connect these to our club specifically? There are three MCs operating in this region.”
“Process of elimination. The Horsemen weren’t targeting the Devils or the Iron Brigade.
Their territories weren’t affected.” She pulled out a map, pointing to marked locations.
“Every hit was in Raptor territory. And the information they had -- route details, exact timing, security protocols -- that’s high-level intelligence.
Not something you’d get from a Prospect or a hang-around. ”
Her gaze darted to the door when she mentioned security protocols. Another tell. She understood the implications of what she was suggesting -- that someone with real authority was the leak.
I deliberately slammed my palm down on one of the documents, watching for her reaction. She startled but didn’t cower.
“If you’re feeding me bullshit,” I growled, “now’s the time to come clean. Because if this is some Horsemen play, I’ll personally make sure you regret walking through that door.”
“In that case, I wouldn’t be here.” Her voice remained steady despite my intimidation.
“I’d have gone to the Horsemen’s President and VP with everything I know about the leaks in their own club and let them handle it.
This” -- she gestured to the evidence spread between us -- “puts a target on my back from both sides.”
Logic. Not emotion. She countered threats with reason. I changed tactics again, going for what should be her most vulnerable point. “Tell me about your sister. Marie Caldwell, right? What was she doing at that motel?”
Pain flashed across her face -- real, raw pain that couldn’t be faked. “Meeting me for dinner. She was early. I was late.” Her voice tightened. “She called to say she’d wait in the parking lot. By the time I got there, it was surrounded by police.”
The details matched our intelligence about the civilian casualty. Another check in the credibility column. “And you’re sure it was our operation?”
“Overheard Butcher bragging about it the next week. How they’d ‘caught the Raptors with their pants down’ thanks to their ‘inside man.’” Her expression hardened.
“They were laughing about it. About the ‘collateral damage.’ They didn’t even know her name.
” The rage in her voice was too genuine to be manufactured. This was personal for her.
I pressed harder. “Why come to us instead of going to the cops? Or just running? You’ve got enough evidence to disappear with.”
“Because this isn’t about me.” She tapped the final transaction record -- the twenty-thousand-dollar payment. “Whatever’s coming next is big. Bigger than anything before. People will die.” She met my gaze directly. “Maybe all of you.”
“You suddenly care about what happens to us?”
“I care about justice.” Her voice remained level despite the emotion behind her eyes. “And I care about stopping the Horsemen. They killed my sister. They tried to kill me. This is the only play I have left.”
I stepped back, studying her. Everything about her story checked out. The dates aligned perfectly with our losses. The level of detail couldn’t have been fabricated. Either she was the most meticulous liar I’d ever encountered, or she was telling the truth.
I gathered the papers again, this time more carefully.
“One last question.” I fixed her with my hardest stare. “Why risk your life coming here? Why not just send the evidence anonymously?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Because if I’m right, you’re all dead men walking. And I couldn’t live with that.”
The simplicity of her answer struck me. There was no guile in it, no calculation. Just raw truth.
“Wait here.” I moved toward the door.
“Am I a prisoner now?” she asked, her voice steady despite the weight of the question.
“You were the moment you walked in.” I didn’t sugarcoat it. “But whether you stay that way depends on what happens next.”
I stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind me. Atilla stood waiting, his expression unreadable.
“Well?” he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“She believes what she’s saying.” I handed him the stack of evidence. “And I think we should too.”
The weight of those words hung between us. If I was right -- if she was right -- cleaning up this mess would be bloody work.