Chapter 2
Riptide
“You have twenty minutes,” the prison guard muttered, giving me a hard look before glancing back at Static, “or until he asks you to leave.”
Static gave the guard a nod, then motioned for me to follow him. “Don’t say a fucking thing at first. Let me get through the shit I need to, then you can ask questions.”
I nodded in acceptance while we waited for the guard to open the cell.
Derek Holden—also known as Derek Johnson, and a slew of other names—looked up as we entered.
He’d been told his attorney was here to speak with him and Static had managed to get himself placed as such not long after the cops took him into custody.
It wasn’t a coincidence. There were things we needed from Derek to pull this off.
We sat down and Static introduced me before handing over some paperwork. “These are the charges being filed, Derek.”
The man’s eyes scanned the page, his face getting more and more grim as he went. When he finally looked up there was a finality in his gaze. He was fucked and he knew it.
They spoke back and forth as they went over the charges, the potential sentences—this guy was looking at being an old man or dead before he got out of prison—and what the plan would be for the eventual trial.
I watched his mannerisms. If anyone in the cult—other than Chet—had met him before, I was finished. The only way I was accessing the cult would be by pretending to be this guy.
Static cleared his throat and shot me a pointed look. Derek’s eyes followed the movement and he stared at us with mistrust flashing over his face. “What’s going on?”
“We have an offer for you,” I told him.
“Who the fuck are you to offer me shit?”
“Someone who can help you,” I said with a shrug. It was important that I played this right. He needed to think that we could help him, but he had to be the desperate one here. If he knew how much we needed his cooperation we were screwed.
“How the hell could you help me?” His dark brows pulled low over his eyes as he stared down at his handcuffs.
Pasting a bored look on my face, I sat back in my chair. “We can get you out of prison and get the charges on you dropped.” I crossed my arms over my chest, biting back a grin when his eyes snapped up to mine.
“Bullshit. They have me dead to rights.”
“We have someone that can make it all disappear,” I replied.
Rat was a techie who was better than everyone.
The cops, FBI, CIA, none of those agencies had anyone working for them who could outsmart the kid.
He’d already agreed to help us with the Austin Chapter President’s approval.
Those guys were out of the life, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t occasionally dip their toe in when their brothers needed it.
They agreed that the termination of this cult was worth Rat playing around in the FBI’s databases for less than an hour.
He could make the evidence disappear, leaving the FBI holding their dicks.
Hope flickered there in Derek’s blue eyes. There was heavy suspicion to go with it. “What do you need me to do?”
“A few things,” Static said, taking back over. “We need information. And we need you to fucking behave in here until we finish up what we need to do. Only after that’s been concluded will we get you released.”
Fucking lawyer speak. Derek looked back at me since I was giving it to him straight. That desperation I was hoping for was pouring off him in waves now. He wanted to take this deal. “What kind of information do you need?”
“It’s about The Silverbells Cult.”
Derek sat frozen. “How do you even know about them?”
“You think if we can erase what you’ve done, we can’t find out about a cult?” I asked.
He shook his head. “You don’t want to go fucking around with them. They’re not-” He paused as a guard walked by, checking on us. Shifting in his seat, he waited until the guard was clear of the area. “They play for keeps. You cross them, you end up dead.”
We figured that was the case. This wasn’t news to us.
“Do they know what you look like?” Static asked.
“Not likely. Maybe an old photograph from one of my old jobs. Nothing recent. I just got into town. Was supposed to meet my cousin then head out to meet the big wig himself.”
“Ethan.”
“Ethan Hargrove,” he confirmed with a nod. He looked around again as though he expected someone to be crawling along the walls trying to listen in. “Guy’s nuts. Something fucking weird is going on out there. Turned Chet—my cousin—into a raving fucking lunatic.”
“Why were you going to join them then?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Money. Fucking loads of it. They were willing to pay me a small fortune to manage their finances for them. Set them up with shell corporations that would funnel their money from wherever they’re getting it back into legitimate businesses.
From there it would return back into their hands.
Clean as you please. Plus, they were going to set me up with a real hottie for a wife.
I mean, look at me, I’m not exactly pulling the ladies. ”
I ground my teeth as I tried to calm myself.
Her face appeared before me again, and the thought of her—or any other woman—being forced to marry this pile of shit made my blood boil.
I silently counted to ten, and studied him while doing so.
He was right about one thing, he was no prize.
He had a gut, receding hairline and a pathetic attempt at a comb over to hide it. That made me feel a little better.
“What were the terms?” Despite his less than desirable appearance, he still was clearly successful financially. It fascinated me why someone with as much going for him as Derek would do this.
He shrugged again. “Had to live out there in the desert with them for a year. Get everything set up. Easy peasy. Once I did that, I had to train someone—probably would’ve been Chet—then I could leave.”
“What do you mean get everything set up?”
“Well, all I’ve seen is photos so far, but they’re not exactly roughing it out there and they plan on making it as comfortable as they can.
He’s got a semi-modern set up, electricity, water, food, and ammunition.
It takes some doing to hide all that, considering they’re not on private property.
To build that kind of infrastructure on federal land and keep it secret takes more than money laundering.
You need contractors that work outside the law, that can get permits with no questions asked.
Shit like that. That’s my other specialty. ”
This was an interesting dichotomy. They needed him and his weaselly skills and connections, but they were still fanatics.
Considering what Butcher had told me about these guys I doubted he would train someone and then leave.
He’d have either been assimilated into the cult, or they’d have learned his techniques and killed him, guaranteed.
“When were you supposed to meet?” Static asked.
“Was going to meet with Chet tomorrow at noon. He was going to bring me out. Show me the ropes. Introduce me to Ethan. Haven’t been able to get a hold of him.
” He played with the chain connecting his cuffs.
“I’m willing to play ball to get myself out of this.
” He motioned to the paperwork still on the table.
“I don’t want to go to prison for that long…
or at all, but there’s no way Chet will go along with it.
From what I can tell he trusts this Ethan guy and is loyal to him. ”
I cleared my throat and shifted. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, Derek, but Chet is dead.”
His eyes widened, mouth falling open as he looked between us. “What? What the fuck happened?”
“We don’t have answers for you,” Static said, evading the question. The last thing we needed was for him to find out we’d been responsible for Chet’s death. That would shut down his cooperation instantly.
“Do you think Ethan would accept you joining the cult without Chet bringing you?”
Derek’s brows rose and he huffed out a breath as he thought that over. “Maybe…if he thought it was his idea. I mean, they still need me.”
“You haven’t spoken to him?”
“No, but Chet would have given him a way to contact me.”
I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table and glanced over at Static. He gave an almost imperceivable nod. “You’re going to tell us everything you know, tomorrow, when we come back.”
“Why not now?” he asked, anxious to make a deal with us that would ensure his freedom.
“Because for now, you’re going to give me the location of all your shit. Your laptop, your cell, everything you’ve hidden in preparation for joining that cult.”
“You want to make sure I’m not jerking you around.”
“Exactly Derek,” I told him, giving him a wide grin. “Once we know you’re in this fully, then we’ll talk.”
* * *
“Take everything,” I told Static, as I started loading up duffel bags with Derek’s things.
“How are you going to keep Ethan from finding out about Derek being in prison?” Static asked as he packed up clothes.
“Seek spoke with her contacts. The police are holding him under one of his many aliases, one not associated with the cult. It’s a simple clerical error that will buy us time.
Plus, they’re keeping everything on the down low as much as possible, as they investigate and gather the evidence they’ll need to prosecute Derek. ”
“That usually lasts for about seventy-two hours.” He glanced down at his Rolex. “That gives us about twelve hours.”
I grinned over at him. “Press got wind of it about five hours ago.”
He straightened up and cocked his head. “I haven’t seen shit. It’s my client-”
“Thank Rat for that. He’s keeping an eye on things and anyone who tries to break the story keeps ending up with a virus shutting down their company.”
His lips tipped up into a smile. “You guys have some impressive friends.”
“You mean like a badass lawyer who gets paid more than most make in a lifetime to represent a single client?” I arched a brow at him.
“Something like that.”
“He doesn’t blame you for making the choice you did, you know. Lock’s always been proud of you.”
Static went back to throwing clothes into bags. “We need to be out of here as fast as we can.”
I let him change the subject. He would talk about it when he was ready. If he ever was. “The others are heading over to help us out.”
Static cursed and gave me a dark look. “You sure you’re ready for this Rip? This isn’t a fucking game.”
I’d known Static almost as long as Lockout.
Many of our brothers didn’t know him—that had been a choice he’d made—but I’d always looked at him as an older brother.
At twenty-eight years old, I was one of the younger members of the club, but Lockout had still made me his VP back when he’d taken over.
When I’d told him there were others who could take the position he just shook his head and said, “I need someone I know will have my back no matter what. Someone that would kill for this club. Die for this club. For its members.”
I was a surfer kid. Had grown up in Washington State riding the waves until circumstances forced me into the military.
From there I’d found the brotherhood I’d been searching for, yearning to have.
Once my enlistment contract had been fulfilled I’d walked away from the military.
The retirement couldn’t hold me, neither could a promise of a fat reenlistment bonus.
I’d been done, but that was only because I had this club to walk toward.
It and my brothers were my life. Nothing would ever change that.
I slapped a hand on Static’s shoulder and just went back to cleaning out Derek’s apartment, leaving his question hanging in the air.
Her face, that gorgeous, innocent, and defiant face hung in my mind.
I was ready for this. I needed to get in there. Get her out.