Chapter 4
Four
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I almost ran my mouth. Layne always ensures such things happen.
Under no circumstances should she know who’s involved.
Not from me anyway, because then the chances of her becoming a target are immense.
God knows what she’ll do with that info.
Things will only get worse. I open the throttle up and the bike surges ahead.
The wind howls past the tails of my cut.
The roar of the engine sends shivers down my spine.
At far too high a speed, I ride back, taking a detour.
It looks deserted when I arrive. The faint glow of the outdoor light on the grounds allows me to see enough to conclude that there are few motorcycles in the lot.
Which works out perfectly. I’m in no mood to answer questions.
So I bypass any interaction by going straight up the outside stairs to my apartment.
I put my key in the lock and when I open the door, I hit the light switch.
“Where were you?”
I turn with a jerk and roll my eyes when I stare into the face of my little brother, who’s sitting quietly on a bar stool at the kitchen island.
He leans his elbows on the marble. “If I’d been an intruder, I would’ve shot you in the head before you even drew your weapon, dickhole.”
I let go of my Glock—which is in the back of my waistband—and walk to the faucet, where I fill a glass of water.
“Have you been at Layne’s?”
How the fuck does he know? I shake my head.
“Bullshit.” Pax grabs his smokes from his pocket and pulls one out with his lips. “What did you tell her?” He snorts and looks at me. The lighter clicks and he almost lights up the cigarette, but then stops.
“Don’t you dare,” I say through clenched teeth. “And I didn’t tell her jack shit. She doesn’t know who took out Connor.” I rub my hands over my face and put them on each side of the glass on the countertop. There’s no use denying it, ‘cause the mofo isn’t stupid.
My brother nods. “Good. It has to stay that way. Unless you want her dead, which I’m not opposed to.” He pulls up a brow and wiggles the smoke between his teeth.
“Fuck, no,” I growl. “Pass me a smoke and light the damn thing.” I gesture toward the pack and the cancer-stick between his lips.
With a sigh, he extends his arm toward me. “Ky, let it go. It’s not helping her to know more and if I’m honest, it isn’t our problem. It’s hers.”
My breath escapes slowly. “I’m trying.” I put the smoke between my lips, put my ass on the other stool.
Pax stands. “I know you won’t listen to me, and I know you’ve got a blind spot for Layne, but fuck, man, I really hope it’ll be different this time.” With those words being said, he leaves my condo.
I let myself lean backward and blow circles of smoke in toward the ceiling. Of course I’m not letting this go.
I put the coke in the safe and engage the lock. When it’s locked, I exit the office of one of our strip clubs and saunter to the manager, MJ, who’s in the public area of Wicked conferring with the bartender.
“I’ve replenished the stock, so you’ve got enough for tonight. I’ll have another batch tomorrow.”
She nods at me. “Good. An extra batch tomorrow would be great, since Friday nights are always so busy.”
“I’ll take care of it. See you tomorrow.” I salute her and head for the back entrance of the club, where I parked my bike. I’m thinking of Layne before I’m out.
Tears stream down her cheeks as my heart breaks into pieces. “I’m going with him, Ky.”
“Why? I fucking love you, Layne, and now…” I can’t find the words to explain what this is doing to me.
She wipes the back of her hand under her nose. “I don’t want this life. All I dream of is a normal life, without the club, without the uncertainty. A life like everyone else, in an average house, in an average village.”
“With an average man? Is that what you want, Lay?”
I’m anything but an average man, raised in the same MC as Layne, raised in this life. He is. Average, boring, and ordinary. Connor, the accountant and his fucking Toyota Prius. Is that really what she wants?
I force the door open, and breathe in the dry outside air.
Layne’s average life shattered in an instant, and I intend to give her back what was stolen from her, even if it’s the last thing I do.
I need to know what happened to the jerk so I can be sure she can get on with her ordinary life.
My only lead right now is the Roseville police, so I start my motorcycle and hit the road.
Twenty minutes later, I set the bike on its stand and place my helmet on the saddle. My tank displays the MC emblem, so I don’t bother locking it. People know to stay away from it.
With my hands in the pockets of my jeans I walk to the huge, iron gate.
Since it’s a working day it’s open and I can pass through to the yellow brick building.
It doesn’t take long before I step into the bright entree.
Behind the counter, which is made of brick as well, a blond wearing a uniform sits, busily typing.
I place my forearms on the counter and lean forward. The sleeves on my arms are in full view, ‘cause I’m just wearing a black T-shirt beneath my cut.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ I paste my most seductive grin on my face.
The lady looks up, her gaze moving from the tattoos on my arms upward until they fall on my cut. Her eyes grow big when her eyes find my VP patch. She schools her features so fast, I question if I interpreted her reaction accurately.
“How can I help you?” She stares intently, her eyebrows arched, her full attention fixed on my face.
“I’m looking for the detective in charge of the Connor Hayes investigation.”
“I’ll go see what I can do for you.” She disappears down a corridor.
A few moments later footsteps come my way and it’s not long before the lady reappears in front of me with a man behind her. “Good afternoon, I’m Superintendent Hawk.” The balding man holds out his hand and I take it.
“Kyler Young. I was wondering if I could talk to you about—”
“Connor Hayes,” the rather fat chief agent says immediately. “What do you know about him? Have you seen him?” He gestures with his arm to clarify that I can enter, what I guess is, his office.
Ahead of him, I walk quietly past the desk. “Not much and no, I haven’t seen him. An old friend of mine is his wife. I was wondering if you’ve found out anything about him yet.”
“Here on the left, Mr. Young.” We’re standing in front of an open wooden door with a sign that reads Superintendent Hawk. I do as he asks, and lower myself onto the brown leather chair in front of the desk. Hawk sits down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “What can you help us with?”
A grin appears on my face. “Oh, I can’t help you, but you might help me.”
“You think I’m going to share details of the investigation with you?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the p. “I know you’re gonna share those with me.”
A multitude of framed accolades adorn the wall behind the man. Apparently he’s quite the overachiever.
A snort echoes through the room. “You’re quite certain of yourself.” Hawk pushes some papers around on his walnut desk with his chubby fingers.
“They told me that you’re the right guy for this case. I also know that when you help me, I can help Mrs. Hayes.”
“Mr. Young, I think we’re able to help Mrs. Hayes just fine.” A forced smile appears on the man’s puffy face.
I suspect he’s into cigars, if I can judge by the case of cigars behind him. I detest cigar men, ‘cause they often think they own the world.
I pull up the right corner of my mouth in a wicked grin. “With all due respect, Superintendent Hawk, I’m quite sure you can’t, as you’re not even doing it right now.”
Suddenly the man leans across his desk and stares right into my face.
“Why should I share information with the Renegades? You’re not my problem.
I’m not on your payroll or any other MC whatsoever.
Besides, there isn’t any indication that Mrs. Hayes needs protection.
Her husband disappeared and for now it looks as though it’s been by his own accord. ”
The superintendent’s got more balls than I suspected. “You want money?” I pull up my left eyebrow and start patting my cut excessively. My fingers slide into the inner pocket. Not that I have a dime in there.
Faster than the speed of light he shoots upright against the back of the chair. “No, I don’t want that at all. I want you to leave.” He pushes his chair back roughly and gets up.
I put my left ankle onto my right knee. I fold my hands together and say: “If you want me to leave, you should give me the information.”
“What information? How many times do I have to say the man disappeared and Mrs. Hayes is the only one who claims it’s something else.”
“Murdered.” Uninterested, I check my nails.
Superintendent Hawk shakes his head. “Disappeared. There’s nothing, except for the story his wife spins, that even suggests murder.
We can’t take action because of a tale by some scorned woman with no evidence backing said story.
” He crosses his arms. “As far as the evidence, Layne Turner-Hayes is a suspect in the investigation as well.”
“Suspect?” I mock. “I thought you just told me he disappeared, and it looked like it was of his own accord.”
The phone on his desk rings, and he puts up a finger. He answers the call and after a couple of seconds he says, “Coming.” Then he puts the phone down.
“’Scuse me. I think it’s best if you leave. I’ve got better things to do right now.”
Uninterested, I stare at him. “I’ve got all the time in the world. I said I ain’t leaving without info. See ya soon, Officer Hawk.” I gesture toward the door.
He looks from me to the door, and after a couple of seconds, he goes.
As soon I know he’s at least six feet away for sure, I dive for the file that’s been on his desk this entire time. I pull it toward me and open it.
Bingo.
Hayes investigation.
My eyes slide over the documents. There it is.
Employers. It’s a short list of names of companies which Connor probably worked for. The last two catch my eye. One project for Viktor Koslov and one for a guy named Nick Vanderberg.
I take a picture with my phone and close the file when I hear feet shuffling in the hallway. As fast as I can, I sit back down in my seat. Hawk’s arrival found me still slumped in the chair, uninterested.
The man rubs his chin. “Let me repeat,” the officer states, “everything’s still under consideration.” His spine ramrod straight. “I don’t have any more information for you, so you’re wasting your time.”
“I noticed that.” Sliding my chair back roughly, I rise. “I wish you a good day, Mr. Hawk.”
“Superintendent,” he hums as he looks at me with narrowed eyes.
With no further response from him, I leave the office and step back into the blazing sun.
Apparently Connor had connections with the Russians. Strapping on my helmet, I speed off.