Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Wheels
Podge found Gene Kettler right after lunch.
I knew because he came out of Twister’s office holding his laptop like it was a bomb about to go off.
The clubhouse had been loud before that.
Normal loud. Gramps bitching about his coffee being cold.
Nugget trying to convince Plug that tacos were breakfast food if you ate them before noon.
Tempi and Britta arguing over whether the kitchen needed to be cleaned now or “after one more cup of coffee.” Hodge leaning against the bar, half-listening to all of it while looking like he wanted someone to give him a reason to hit something.
Goldie sat beside me at the table, one knee tucked under her, reading through another stack of permits even though I’d told her three times to take a break.
She’d found the tunnel hatch yesterday. Actually found it. She deserved a damn break from all the papers and permits.
Podge stopped at the edge of the table and adjusted his glasses. “I found Gene.”
Every conversation in the room died.
Twister turned from the bar. “Church.”
Chairs scraped. Boots hit the floor. Coffee mugs were abandoned. The whole room shifted in seconds from clubhouse chaos to business. We all gathered around the tables, and Twister took the head of the table.
Swift sat to his right. Hodge across from him. Magnum beside Hodge. Podge set his laptop in the middle. I sat next to Goldie, close enough that my knee brushed hers beneath the table.
She glanced at me, and I gave her a small nod. She looked nervous, but not scared.
There was a difference.
Twister tapped two fingers against the table. “Talk.”
Podge opened the laptop and turned it so we could see the screen. “Gene Kettler. Twenty-seven years old. Current address is on the east side, near Lake Monona. Small single-family house. Bought it thirteen years ago. No mortgage listed.”
Magnum leaned forward. “Paid cash?”
“Looks like it.”
Hodge grunted. “Of course he did.”
Podge clicked to another screen. “Employment history is where it gets strange.”
Goldie sat straighter.
Twister noticed. “What?”
She shook her head. “Let him finish.”
Podge nodded. “Gene Kettler currently works as a private compliance consultant. Before that, he spent one year as a procurement manager for a medical supply company. Before that, facilities coordinator at a private school. Before that, warehouse logistics.”
Swift frowned. “None of that sounds like city permitting.”
“It isn’t,” Goldie said quietly.
Everyone looked at her. She leaned closer to the laptop and scanned the screen. “If he signed off on permits, he should have worked for the city. Building department, planning, zoning, inspections, something. Even if he was only a temporary official, there should be a record.”
Podge clicked again. “There isn’t.”
Twister’s face hardened. “None?”
“No city employment record that I can find,” Podge said. “No pension record. No salary listing. No staff directory archive. Nothing.”
Hodge leaned back in his chair. “So how the hell did he sign city permits?”
Goldie rubbed her thumb over the edge of the table. “He shouldn’t have been able to.”
“But he did,” I said.
She nodded. “A lot.”
Podge pulled up another file. “More than a lot. I found his name on thirty-seven documents tied to the block. Some are permits. Some are inspection approvals. Some are easement adjustments. A few are old paper scans.”
“Can they be fake?” Magnum asked.
Goldie shook her head. “Maybe some, but not all. Not if they were accepted into the city system.”
Podge looked at her. “Exactly. The documents exist in archives. Some are scanned copies, but the record numbers are real.”
Twister was quiet for a second. “Meaning somebody inside the city made them real.”
Goldie nodded slowly. “Or someone had access they never should have had.”
That was the problem with the Ledger. Every time we thought we found one answer, it showed us another locked door.
Hodge cracked his knuckles. “I’m starting to hate this guy.”
“You and me both,” Swift muttered.
Podge clicked to a photo.
A man appeared on the screen. Dark hair. Narrow face. Expensive glasses. He wore a suit in the picture, but he didn’t look like a man who belonged in one. He looked like a man trying to dress up something rotten.
Goldie inhaled sharply.
I looked at her. “You know him?”
She stared at the screen. “I’ve seen him.”
Twister leaned forward. “Where?”
She shook her head once, like she was trying to clear it. “Not directly. Not a meeting, I don’t think.” She pointed at the picture. “I saw him at City Hall. Maybe twice. He was always with someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” Her frustration showed in the pinch between her brows. “That’s what bothers me. I remember faces. I remember people who shouldn’t be in certain places. But he was never introduced. Never there officially. He was just... around.”
Swift’s jaw tightened. “Ghost with a visitor badge.”
“Something like that,” she said.
Podge turned the laptop back toward himself. “No current visitor logs available from City Hall unless we get access.”
Goldie gave him a look.
He blinked. “What?”
“You say that like you might get access.”
He adjusted his glasses. “I said unless.”
Hodge snorted. “Smart answer.”
Twister ignored them. “Address.”
Podge slid a printed page across the table.
Twister picked it up, and I watched his eyes move over the page once. Then again. When he looked up, the decision had already been made. “We’re done waiting.”
The words settled over the room.
Twister folded the paper and tucked it into his cut. “We sit here; they make moves. They break into Goldie’s apartment. They leave notes in our mailbox. They hide behind old papers and fake companies. They take shots at us when it suits them.” His gaze moved around the table. “Not anymore.”
Hodge smiled slowly. “About damn time.”
Swift nodded once. “When?”
“Now.”
Magnum pushed back from the table. “Who’s going?”
“Me,” Twister said.
That didn’t surprise anyone.
“Wheels.”
I nodded.
“Hodge.”
Hodge stood already.
“Magnum.”
“Got it.”
“Swift.”
Swift’s face gave nothing away, but his body shifted like he’d been waiting for the order.
Goldie’s chair scraped back. “I’m going.”
“No,” I said automatically.
Her head turned toward me. “Excuse me?”
“No.”
“Do not no me right now, Wheels.”
I stood too. “Goldie—”
She pointed at the laptop. “I know him. Maybe not well, but I’ve seen him. I know the documents. I know what he signed. You need me.”
“We don’t need you walking into danger.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve been in danger since before I came here.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to drive you toward more of it.”
“Wheels.”
“No,” I insisted.
Twister watched us for about five seconds before cutting in. “She’s coming.”
My head snapped toward him. “Prez.”
“She’s right.”
I hated that. Twister knew I hated it. He didn’t care.
“If Gene says something about those papers, she’ll understand it faster than we will.” His gaze shifted to Goldie. “But you listen. You stay between Wheels and me. You don’t wander. You don’t argue once we’re there.”
Goldie lifted her chin. “I can do that.”
I looked at her, and she didn’t look away.
Stubborn woman.
Beautiful, smart, impossibly stubborn woman.
I exhaled through my nose. “You’re wearing my vest.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “What?”
“My extra bulletproof vest. No argument.”
Goldie opened her mouth.
I raised an eyebrow.
She shut it. “Fine.”
Hodge chuckled. “Look at that. They compromise.”
“No one asked you,” I muttered.
He grinned. “Yeah, but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying the show.”
“Don’t steal my lines,” Gramps shouted from the bar.
Everyone paused.
Twister looked toward the bar. “You think maybe you could sit at the table with us?”
“No,” Gramps shouted back. “I’m good right here. I’ve got good hearing.” He filled his coffee cup. “I was guarding the bar.”
“From what?” Hodge asked.
“Secrets.”
Twister stared at him.
Gramps shrugged. “Truth.”
Behind him, Tempi and Britta were standing a few feet away in the kitchen doorway, looking far too innocent.
Tempi looked at Twister. “If Goldie is going, we’re going, too.”
Twister’s eyes narrowed.
She smiled sweetly. “Don’t make me ask.”
“No,” Twister and Swift said at the same time.
Goldie winced.
Britta pointed at Swift. “We talked about this.”
“No, you talked. I listened.”
“That is the same thing.”
“It is not.”
Tempi looked at Twister. “If Goldie goes—”
“Goldie has information we might need,” Twister said. “You don’t.”
Tempi’s mouth dropped open. “That was rude.”
“Accurate.”
“I own the bar,” she pointed out.
“And if we were going to recover an old-fashioned recipe, then you would be right there with us, doll,” Gramps laughed.
“And you’re staying here where you’re protected,” Twister said firmly.
She crossed her arms. “I don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“I don’t like you right now either.”
“I know that too,” Twister chuckled.
Britta looked at Goldie. “Do you want us to come?”
Goldie hesitated.
I knew the answer before she said it. She wanted them. Of course she did, but she was smart.
“No,” she said softly. “Twister’s right. If Gene says something about the permits, I may catch it. But there’s no reason for all of us to walk into whatever this is.”
Tempi’s expression softened just a little.
Britta looked annoyed, but she nodded. “Fine,” Britta said. “But if anything happens, I’m blaming all of you.”
Swift leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Fair.”
Tempi pointed at Twister. “You come back.”
His face changed. Not much, but enough. He stepped into her space and put one hand on the side of her neck. “Always.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded once.
I looked away because that felt like something I wasn’t supposed to watch.
Goldie stepped closer to me, and I looked down. “You sure?” I asked quietly.
“No.” At least she was honest. “But I need to go.”
I wanted to plant Goldie in the middle of the clubhouse and lock every door between her and the world. Instead, I reached for her hand.
She slid her fingers into mine without hesitation, and that trust hit harder than any argument could have.
“Then you stay close,” I said.
“I will.”
“Closer than close.”
Her mouth twitched. “That sounds like something a nice person would say.”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
She smiled, but her hand tightened in mine.
Twister clapped once. “Move.”
The clubhouse shifted around us again.
Magnum checked his sidearm. Swift kissed Britta one more time. Hodge grabbed his cut from the back of a chair.
I pulled Goldie toward the stairs so I could get the extra vest from my room.
Behind us, Tempi called out, “Goldie.”
Goldie turned.
Tempi pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at Goldie. “Come back.”
Goldie smiled softly. “I plan on it.”
Britta lifted her chin. “And don’t let Wheels boss you around too much.”
I looked at her. “Really?”
Britta shrugged. “Only a little.”
The Saints were done waiting for the next hit. Now we were going to knock on Gene Kettler’s door. And whatever the hell he knew, he was going to tell us.