Chapter 17
Me and Pops were chopping it up about what happened last night when I had dinner with Jelai and her mom when he said, “Well there goes another hating ass nigga.”
Turning my head in the direction of his gaze, I shook my head and chuckled at the sight of Hamilton.
I was surprised to see him on our side of town, and I was even more surprised to see that they’d let him into our clubhouse.
He lifted his hands immediately as a form of peace as he neared our table.
“I ain’t here on no bullshit. I’m actually here doing you a favor,” he said, looking at me.
“What favor could you possibly be doing me?”
Pops pointed for him to sit in the unoccupied chair at our round table.
“I’ma tell ya straight like this; Chris has had the Outlaws in his back pocket for the last five years.”
Me and Pops looked at each other before he asked, “Chris who?”
“Peterson?” I asked.
“Yeah. Captain Chris Peterson of the RVH Police Department,” Hamilton confirmed.
“I’ma try to make this story short. He infiltrated our club when he busted one of the members selling drugs.
He wanted in. We started paying him to make sure him and his detectives looked the other way.
Whether it was drugs, guns, fights, robberies—whatever.
Anything we did, he made sure it was swept under the rug.
“I don’t know how, but somebody at the police department found out.
He was being investigated for bribery, extortion, corruption, assault, all that shit.
If a dealer didn’t have his money, he’d beat him half to death.
I started having my men do their drop-offs to him in pairs for their safety.
Fast forward, someone from your crew gives up that information in exchange for a lesser sentence.
“Apparently, they saw a deal go down. Chris had gotten some money from one of the dealers and he had a video of it. My men got word of the meeting and Chris ordered the hit. He told them to pull up and shoot. Dylan got hit, but Eric got away.”
“Wait.” The laughter that escaped me wasn’t from amusement.
It felt like my body was searching for a way to release what was brewing inside of me.
“You’re telling me Dylan had information that suggested his best friend, who was a sergeant at the time, was into some illegal shit, and when he went to get proof, Chris ordered a hit? ”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Henry sent the shooter away, and we were never supposed to speak of it again, but shit has gotten worse.
After my brother was killed, Junie took over, and I became the vice president.
Junie likes for me to handle everything, which means I had to keep Chris on a leash. Chris started getting greedy.
“Henry was the one who wanted to keep the club as clean as possible, but I never gave a fuck. He’s not just getting a cut to avoid us going to jail.
He’s running a full scale drug operation through our club.
It took on a life within itself and became something I didn’t approve of nor am I able to control.
I couldn’t find a way to get the man out, until now. ”
“What do you think we can do?” Pops asked. “Because I’m assuming that’s why you’re here. For our help.”
“We’re about to help each other,” Hamilton countered with a smile.
“After your family dinner last night, Chris decided he wanted to get you out of the way,” he told me.
“His plan is to make Diane fall in love with him and marry her. He wants Jelai and Diane to himself, and he knows if she stays with you, there’s a chance she might uncover the truth about what happened to her father.
He asked me to put my men on a scheme. They were supposed to kidnap Jelai and bait you into pulling up so they could gun you down.
I declined, and he told me that I’d pay after he handled it himself. ”
“When is this supposed to happen?” I asked.
“He wanted it done as soon as possible, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he snatched her today or tomorrow. Go find him. And if you can kill him, consider The Outlaws a friend of The Wilted Roses. You’ll never have any issues with any of us ever again.”
I didn’t bother to respond as I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call Jelai and tell her not to let Chris anywhere near her, but I was too late.
Her text thread showed me that she’d stopped sharing her location with me, which I knew was his doing.
When I tried to call her, it went straight to voicemail.
Frantically, I pulled up the app for the security camera I’d installed at her place.
I watched as she invited him inside, confronted him about the way he acted toward me last night, then turned her back to him when she told him she wanted him to leave.
That was her mistake. He covered her mouth and nose with something that knocked her out instantly. Chris grabbed her phone, and I assumed that was when he stopped sharing her location with me. After that, he picked her up and carried her to his car.
“I’m finna kill this muthafucka,” I vowed, leaping from my seat.
“How can we find him?” Pops asked.
“Her choker. It has a tracker in it . . .”