Chapter 24
Static
Cypher and his crew, all except Pyre who stayed back at the compound with our families, met us at the country club. He let out a low whistle. "Swanky place."
Lock chuckled and gave the building a sidelong glance before walking over to the van Scythe was driving. We parked separately so as not to draw attention to it and the bikes parked at the end of the lot. He opened the back and grinned. "Not for long."
We were all gathered around as Cypher and Lock stared down at enough cocaine to get anyone in a fuck ton of trouble. "Who did you say you swiped these drugs off?" Cypher asked.
"Don't know," Hush muttered.
Cypher's brows rose and he looked over at Lock. "That going to be a problem?"
"Yup," Lock said, expression grim. "But it's tomorrow's problem. Today is for Fremont."
Cypher nodded. "Just remember, you can only kick the can down the road so long."
"I know, but look at it this way. Whoever is moving this much coke in our city is going to be a problem anyway. It was only a matter of time." Lock said. "Let's get this done." He glared over at Butcher. "I can trust you to do your job, right?"
The offended look on Butcher's face made me chuckle.
"You know you can count on me," he growled, glowering at Lock. "Even if it means working with this asshole." He jerked his thumb in Scythe's direction.
"Good," Lock told him, ignoring the dig at Scythe even as the other man scowled at Butcher. "We'll let you know when to go." He glanced over at Hush. "You're in charge. Keep them in line."
Hush gave a heavy sigh, but just nodded in acceptance.
I turned and flipped Toxic off as I walked away with the group who was heading inside to kick the hornet's nest. He was stuck out here babysitting the drugs while I got to go inside. That was bound to piss him off, and I wasn't about to miss the opportunity to rub salt in the wound.
Toxic pulled his knife out and ran the flat of the blade across his throat.
I rolled my eyes at the threat, then turned and trotted to catch up with my group.
It was Lock, Cypher, Idaho, Smoke, Ricochet, Cynic, Warrant, and me.
Normally, this would be the perfect job for Toxic, causing a scene, but it was best to keep Butcher outside and available for the next part of the plan.
So Toxic was told to stick with him. I wondered if Lock realized what he'd done pairing those two up?
As singular men, they were both trouble.
Together? They were fucking chaos incarnate.
As soon as we walked through the doors Lock reached over and pushed a vase off a table in the front entryway.
The hum of conversation stuttered to a halt as every eye landed on us.
We'd already taken off our cuts and left them outside with the others.
As painful as it was to leave them behind, we didn't need to announce who we were to all the witnesses the cops would end up interviewing.
A woman rushed over, her eyes wide on the vase that was shattered on the floor. "That was a Waterford," she gasped. She glared up at Lockout. "Let me see your membership-"
"Don't have one," Lock told her with a wide smile.
I couldn't help grinning. He was having fun with this. It probably felt good to let loose and have a little fun. The Paldora Country Club was about to see a side of our president that most didn't.
"Then what are you doing here?" she huffed.
"We're here to see Neil Trask."
"Mr. Trask doesn't have time for-" She broke off with a gasp as Warrant flicked a second vase off the matching table on the other side of the entrance.
The dining room full of country club members was off to the left and everyone was watching with rapt fascination.
"Stop that right now!" The woman cried, all but stamping her high heel at us.
"We're just going to keep this up until we speak to Trask," Cypher said in a bored tone.
"Wait here," she told us between gritted teeth. She looked over as two security guards ran up. "Watch them." She paused before turning. "Don't break anything else."
"Sure, Sweetheart," Cynic called after her.
"Sweetheart, huh?" I muttered.
Cynic shrugged with a grin. "She has a great rack."
Cypher chuckled. "She's old enough to be your mother."
Cynic snorted. "Not quite. But I like older women. They know exactly what they want and I rarely have to dodge their calls later."
I shook my head with a laugh. "And you have all our women believing you're 'sweet'."
"Your women, huh? You finally do something about-"
"Gentlemen."
We all looked over as a man in a suit strode toward us.
"That didn't take long," Smoke muttered.
Trask was the owner of the country club, and another business owner working with Fremont.
He looked around as he approached and gave a fake smile to his patrons.
It was the lunch time crowd, so not as busy as I imagined it would be for dinner.
His eyes landed on us and his mouth settled in a fixed grim line.
"What do you want?" he asked as soon as he stopped in front of Lockout.
"To speak privately," Lock told him.
"Not happening. You're lucky I'm not having security throw you out on your asses.
Most of us scoffed at that. His security was a private firm, and they were a few levels above rent-a-cops, but they were nowhere close to our levels. Not that Trask knew that.
"We can always have the talk here," Cypher said with a shrug.
"District Attorney John-"
"Wait." Trask tilted his chin forward, trying to be discreet about casting a glance around to see who may have overheard. "I've changed my mind. Two of you follow me."
"Three," Lock said, nodding to me. He glanced at Ricochet. "You're in charge until I get back."
Ricochet shot Smokehouse a smug look. "Told you he trusted me more."
"What the hell," Smoke muttered.
"You're telling me," Idaho said. "I'm his damn brother."
"And a prospect," Warrant pointed out. "You don't get to have a leadership role until you're a permanent fixture in the club."
"Ah fuck off, War," Idaho sighed.
We followed Trask up the stairs and made an immediate right-hand turn.
His office was down the hall on the left.
We watched as he settled behind his mahogany desk.
His office was dripping in opulence. It was all a show.
A fuck you to anyone he let in here. See how rich I am.
Look what you can't have. It was like the house of a drug dealer, or a politician.
"Talk fast," Trask snapped, folding his hands together.
"You're laundering money for Fremont," Lock said, raising a brow. "Stop."
Silence descended as Trask waited for more. He'd asked for Lock to give him the short version and he had. I grinned.
"You think you can come into my place of business... into my world, and make demands?" Trask asked with an incredulous laugh. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"I'm the man who's going to ruin your fucking world if you don't comply with my demands," Lockout told him.
His eyes clashed with Trask's. One was fire, the other ice.
Lock was cool and collected. For now. God help Trask if he pissed him off though.
We were here to help with that. Well, Cypher was.
I was here to learn the location of Trask's office.
To save time for the second half of this.
"That's not possible," Trask said, all arrogance and confidence.
"No?" Cypher asked. "You sure about that?"
Trask hesitated and looked between the two men. He made his decision. "I'm sure. You can't prove a thing, and I'm done entertaining this bullshit. Get out of my office, and out of my club."
"Make us," Lock told him. Then his eyes shot to me and he dipped his head once.
I turned to leave. Shit was going to hit the fan, but I wouldn't be here for that part. Trotting down the stairs, I gave our men a wide smile. "Operation is a go."
"What?" One of the security guards asked, but I didn't stop to answer.
I went straight out the front door and headed toward our bikes and van. "Clock’s ticking," I told Hush.
"You got the location?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Hush turned and looked over the group. "You know where you're goin' Riptide?"
"Yeah, the building plans were online and easy enough to find."
Trask's office had been the only unknown in this.
And whether he would cooperate with us. Lock didn't try too hard to get him to bend to our will.
Fuck, who knew if we could have trusted him if he promised to stop.
Tara? We'd trusted her. Troy and Trask were built from the same fucking cloth.
They were scum and at least we could put one out of business today.
"Demo, Hell, and Priest, go with Rip. Watch his back," Hush ordered.
"Scythe, Toxic, and Butcher. You're with me and Static." He pointed to the van.
"You're not keeping anyone with the van?" Toxic asked.
"Nothin' left of value in the van once we pack up the coke," Hush replied. He looked over his shoulder at Rip. "Give us a minute. We'll all go in together."
We quickly stuffed bricks of cocaine into our jeans and hid them anywhere we could for the quick walk to the building. We went around the back and stopped next to a window.
"Alright," Hush said. "Make sure-" He broke off when a shattering sound interrupted. He glared over at Demo, who'd just put his elbow through the pane of glass. "No one's around first," Hush bit out. "Dammit."
Demo just grinned and shrugged as he reached through and flicked the lock on the window, then opened it for everyone to climb in. "Worked, didn't it?"
"Do you have to destroy everything?" Hell asked as he ducked into the opening.
"What?" Demo asked, sounding a bit mournful.
"These guys are worse than you," I muttered to Toxic and Butcher.
Toxic grinned. "Where do you think I learned how to do what I do?"
"Fuck and drink?" Hell asked. "Figured it came natural."
Toxic snorted and shook his head before sticking it out into the hallway. "All clear."
"Security's a shitshow," Butcher muttered.
Scythe nodded. Both men eyed each other, then decided to play nice.