Troubled Son: Savage Sons MC Romance (20 page)

Angel took my arm and pulled me back toward her bedroom. "His name's Rob. He's been over a bunch of times. Always wants a quarter and a fuck."

We got into the bedroom. The light that came in through the dirty mini blinds showed a queen sized bed -- sheets and covers all a mess -- with a man who appeared to be very dead sprawled across the middle.

"I just pushed him off of me, and I ran out and called you. I didn't know what else to do."

Max pulled a pair of latex gloves out of her back pocket, put them on, and went over to check the man's pulse.

"He's dead," she announced, shaking her head.

Angel put her hand -- the one that wasn't grabbing my arm -- on her hip. "What the hell is she? A doctor?"

I pulled back from her. "Enough bullshit, Angel. Let me think."

Max stepped away from the bed and looked around the room, taking it all in. I guessed she hadn't been in very many bedrooms as depressing as this one. Empty beer bottles crowded the dirty nightstand, and condom wrappers littered the floor next to the trash can.

"Angel, I need you to tell me everything that happened." I hoped she'd give me some clue that would explain the dead tweaker in her bed. Maybe his heart had just gone out, but I wanted to make sure that nothing weird had gone on.I also needed to find out if Angel knew if this guy had family that was gonna miss him anytime soon.

Angel put her hand on her chest, cheap ratty lace peeking from beneath her fingers. "Moses, it was the same old thing as every other time. He texted me a couple of hours ago and asked me if I had any free time -- that's what he always says, and I just know what he means."

"Okay. And then what happened?"

"Well, I was about to call Bug and let him know that I needed more stuff. Last night was busier than a usual Thursday, and I was out. Right when I was about to call, the new prospect showed up and dropped some off to me. Rob showed up right on..."

I stopped her with a hand on her arm. "What new prospect?"

"The guy didn't tell me his name. Just said that he was the new prospect and that Joker had sent him with fresh shit to sell."

I looked at Max and then back at Angel. Something didn't add up. "Angel, we don't have a new prospect."

"I don't give a fuck about your prospects. He brought me the shit I needed."

Max came up behind me. "Angel, did you sell the new stuff to Rob?"

"Yeah," Angel answered, like she was offended that Max had talked to her.

"Did you take any of it?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm fuckin' sure. Who the fuck do you think you are, asking me questions that got nothin' to do with you?"

I stepped in between the women. "Angel. Answer the questions. Are you sure you didn't take any of the new shit?"

"Yeah. I had a bump before Rob got here, and I used the last of the old stuff."

This was bad, and I was afraid it was gonna get worse. "Did you sell any to anyone else?"

"Not yet, but I got a couple of stops to make before I head to the club tonight."

"Bring it to me."

Angel went into the living room, and Max looked at me.

"You thinking this is the Vandals somehow?"

"Yup. I don't know exactly how, or what they gave her, but this has the Vandals written all over it."

"What are you gonna do?" Max asked.

"Can you have your guys analyze whatever it is that they gave her?"

She thought for a second. "Yeah. I can drop it at the safe house, and they should be able to get the results in twelve hours or so. A day at the most."

"Good."

Angel came back in and handed me a paper bag filled with little Ziplocks that each held a quarter. It looked just like the stuff we handled.

"Angel, did the guy have a cut?"

"Yeah. Looked brand new, but it was one of yours."

"Alright. One more question. Did Rob have kids? An old lady? Anyone who's gonna miss him right away?"

"His old lady's in Dallas with his kids. They ain't gettin' along so good. He lives by himself, I think."

"I gotta make a call. Give me a minute."

I walked out into the living room and pulled out my phone to call Joker. The fact that Rob lived alone meant that it would be easier for us to dump the body without leaving a trail that led right back to Angel's door -- at least that's what I hoped. My big concern was keeping Joker from blowing up and leading the other guys on a rampage headed for Wyoming. I knew that I was gonna have to tell him about the guy posing as our prospect, but I wondered how pissed Joker would be if I kept that a secret until church on Sunday. I didn't see that I had much of a choice.

I called Joker, told him that one of Angel's guys had dropped dead in her bed and that we had a mess to clean up. I didn't say a word about the suspect crank, and I knew that by the time church rolled around, I'd know exactly what was in those Ziplocks. The way I figured it, my best shot at getting out was to somehow, someway get evidence before the Sons could go to war and everything went to hell.

It was gonna be a race -- a dangerous one -- but I didn't see any other way. I couldn't stop an entire MC hell-bent on revenge, and I couldn't expect the Sons to ignore the Vandals having delivered some kind of poison shit directly to one of our girls. My fucked up situation had gotten way more complicated.

Chapter 25

Max

I
wasn't in shock, but it was taking me a little while to process everything that had just happened. Moses stowed the paper bag with the meth -- or whatever it was -- in the saddlebag.

"So do you have a plan?" I asked.

"First of all, we're gonna get the fuck outta this parking lot. Then we need to get this stuff to your guys to analyze, and then I think I'm gonna turn my phones off, go to the store, head home, and cook you dinner."

What the hell was going on?

"Are you just gonna leave that guy up there?"

"Joker's got a couple of guys who are gonna handle it."

"What are they gone do with him?"

Moses took my helmet out of my hands, set it on my head, and buckled it. "Max, we need to get out of here. Now. If the cops show up and find you, me, a bag of crank, a hooker, and a dead body upstairs, we're done. There's no case if that happens. We have got to go. Now. We can talk later."

He got on the bike, and I climbed on behind him without saying another word. He drove for about ten minutes before he pulled over into a McDonald's parking lot.

"You okay?" he asked after we'd gotten off the bike.

"Fine."

Actually, I wasn't exactly fine, but I wasn't totally freaked out, either. I had never in my life seen an apartment quite as dark and nasty as the one we'd just left. The whole place smelled like stale carryout boxes, years of cigarette smoke, and desperate sex. I really didn't know how anyone could live that way. And that was just the apartment.

We'd walked away from a dead body -- someone who'd died because of the Savage Sons and their drug business. I wanted to know what Moses thought about what had happened, and I needed to find some space to think things through.

Moses looked at me like he didn't quite believe me. "Do you know how to get to the safe house from here?"

I really had no idea where we were. "No, but if we get to 25, I'll be able to figure it out. It's north of here, I'm sure."

"Max, I know this has been a lot to handle. Let's get this shit dropped off, and we'll take the rest of the day to figure things out."

I nodded and took out my cell phone to call Tombley. I explained the situation to him briefly and held the phone away from my ear when he started to holler.

"Jeff, if you don't lower the volume, I'm gonna hang up."

"Sorry, Max, but this is a catastrophe."

"Jeff, it's handled as well as it can be. We weren't there when it went down, and there's no way either Moses or I can be implicated in any wrongdoing."

"Disposing of a dead body?" Tombley's voice was starting to rise again.

"Neither of us is handling it. He was dead before we got there, and I can't afford to be picked up by the cops. My cover will be shot, Jeff."

"Jesus. This case has gone to hell in no time flat."

"It'll be fine. Can you have one of the guys meet us right away and get this stuff analyzed ASAP?"

"Tombley sighed. "Yeah. Is Moses there?"

I handed him the phone.

"Moses," he said when I handed him the phone, clearly displeased. He listened for a moment. "Yeah, I'll handle it." He ended the call and handed me the phone.

"What did he want?" I asked.

"He's worried about this blowing up into a war."

"Aren't we all?" I said, expecting and receiving no answer. "Let's get this done."

We met the agent, and he promised that he'd get me the results as quickly as possible. Even though it was only two o'clock, I felt like I'd been up for a week.

Moses headed back south and drove for a few minutes before he pulled into a shopping center.

"You a picky eater?" he asked.

I was surprised by the question. "No. I don't really like broccoli, but other than that, I'm pretty easy." Even though we'd had to deal with some really awful stuff, I laughed out loud when I saw the smirk on Moses' face when I told him I was easy. "I didn't mean it like that," I muttered as we headed into Whole Foods.

I pushed the cart, feeling oddly intimate and domestic as Moses made his way through the store. He picked up asparagus, garlic, a couple of Kumamoto brown tomatoes, lemons, and fresh basil and rosemary in the produce section before heading to the cheese counter. He picked out two different kinds of cheese I'd never heard of and headed for the bakery. He picked out a fresh ciabatta and asked the man behind the counter to slice it.

At this point, I was stunned speechless. What the hell? I was walking behind an outlaw biker watching him sniff tomatoes before selecting them. He looked like a freaking chef. Our last stop was the meat and seafood counter, where he picked out two small dry-aged filets and exactly four huge scallops. We went through the checkout and Moses paid for everything in cash. I liked to cook, but I hadn't ever paid seventy dollars for a meal that I had to cook myself. Clearly Moses was unconcerned.

Back out in the parking lot, Moses carefully stowed everything in his saddlebags. It just barely fit. He handed me a backpack that he'd pulled out before filling the compartments up.

"Mind wearing this on the way home? I'd do it, but it'll be uncomfortable with you behind me."

"Sure, but what else do we need? There's no way I can eat anything else."

"I don't know about you, but I'm gonna be thirsty the second I walk through the door."

I smiled and nodded. "Brilliant."

We walked across the parking lot to a liquor store. I wasn't going to be surprised if Moses was picky about wine, given what I'd seen in the grocery store, and I realized that I was going to feel foolish for having assumed that he didn't know anything when I'd cooked dinner for him at my apartment. That felt like it had been a month ago, rather than just a couple of days.

"Any preferences?" he asked as we went inside the wine shop.

"Surprise me," I answered, hoping that he would read anything and everything into what I'd said.

Moses shook his head and the smoldering look in his eyes gave me a clue that he knew what I was thinking. I realized that I was very much looking forward to the evening.

Moses picked up a bottle of Champagne, and a bottle each of white and red.

"Is that all for tonight?" I asked.

"We'll see. I just want to have a variety. I don't have much at home right now."

Moses handed over a couple of hundred dollar bills that covered the three bottles, and his change didn't amount to much. Not only was I looking forward to spending some time with Moses, but I was starting to get hungry anticipating the menu.

Back at Moses' house, I sat at one of the stools in the kitchen, sipping the glass of South African Chenin Blanc that Moses had poured for me. I'd offered to help with dinner prep, but he'd declined and offered me a seat instead. The view was spectacular.

When we'd gotten home, Moses had changed clothes, and when he'd come out of his bedroom, I'd nearly gasped audibly. He was rolling up the sleeves on a light blue button-down that brought out his eyes. He wore broken in, faded jeans, and he was barefoot. Good heavens, even his feet were perfect. I could see glimpses of ink through the shirt, so I figured it was old and one of his favorites if it had gotten that thin.

His movement in the kitchen was economical, and it was clear that he knew what he was doing.

"Can we talk about today?" I asked as I watched him zest a lemon into the plastic container that held the scallops.

Moses used scissors to snip fresh rosemary into the container and added fresh ground pepper and some sea salt and olive oil before he closed the lid and shook the container to evenly distribute the flavors over the surface of the fat scallops. "Yeah. Tough day." He took a sip of his wine. "How're you doing?"

"I need to know what you're doing with the body." I hated to ask, but I did it anyway.