Whisky on My Mind (10 page)

Over the next hour Sawyer gave uniformed cops a report of what he saw and answered their questions. He knew this was just procedure, later he would probably be called into the station to give a further statement
, but he’d deal with that when the time came.

The cops were holding them there for some reason—it was
makin’ him edgy, but he remained outwardly calm—determined not to let them rattle his cage. As he rested against the wall of the building, Sawyer’s gaze swept the crowd noting the different ways people reacted to violence. There was a tour group of Granny types, just back from a Vegas trip judging by the matching t-shirts they all wore, gathered in a tight huddle, their arms waving in the air as they re-enacted the event, shaking their heads, no doubt, at the demise of society. He felt bad for the few family groups with small kids, he didn’t agree with exposing anyone to violence, but he especially hated when kids got mixed up in it all. Then there was the other end of the spectrum—the business suited yuppies who were glued to their smart phones and using the waiting time to touch base with the office, who saw a murder as just one more thing to mess up their travel plans.

He watched one guy march up to a cop, poking him in the chest. “I’m losing money standing around here. What the hell is the hold up?” he demanded.

The cop looked down at the guy’s finger still on his chest, pointedly. “Sir, you need to be patient. As soon as an officer takes your statement—you’ll be free to go.”

“Then get me an officer so I can get out of here,”

“In due course, you’ll be spoken to,” the cop told him turning his back on the guy and walking away.

Sawyer gave a humorless snort, people looked down their nose at him with his tattoos and leather, but he had to wonder if being an indifferent asshole in a suit wasn’t ten times worse. As his gaze moved on, Sa
wyer swore when he caught sight of a familiar face making a beeline for him and the guys as they stood to one side.

“Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised at finding you here,” Caleb Santiago drawled as he came to a stop before him.

“Yeah? Well I’m surprised to see
you
here,” Sawyer replied. “I thought you were some desk jockey junior clerk over in fraud or somethin’.”

Caleb shrugged, his gaze roaming the crime scene before them. “I got a transfer.
Seems this whole possible bike gang connection interests my new department chief.”

“And what department would that be?”

“Narcotics and Gang Unit,” he said, turning his gaze onto Sawyer. “I kinda’ thought at some point our paths would eventually cross…
professionally
. Then low and behold tonight, I get a call to come down here to a shooting and look who I find.”

“You got us all wrong, Detective. We’re legit business owners just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
This has got nothin’ to do with us.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not buying any of that bullshit. You’ve gone and got a
man killed with your biker turf warfare you got going on with the Switchblades and I’m gonna’ make sure you pay for it.”

“So much hate…you know you really need to let go of it, man
, and move on.”

“Let go of what?”

“The fact she chose me over you,” Sawyer said, enjoying the flush of red that spread across the detective’s face as he flipped open his notebook and pulled out a pen.

“
I’ve spoken to the officers on the scene and they tell me witnesses have said that the deceased victim was with you and your men before he was shot. How do you know him?”

“I don’t,” Sawyer pulled out a cigarette and lit it, calmly.

“So what were you doing here with him tonight?”

“Picking him up as a favor for a friend,” Sawyer shrugged.

“What friend?”

“What difference does it make?” Sawyer answered
, bored with the questions he’d already answered earlier.

“The difference between taking a brief statement here
or me taking you back to the station and holding you overnight until I get some answers.”

Sawyer gave an impatient sigh. “One of Whisky’s old friends was going to drive in. I offered to save her the trip,” Sawyer shrugged.

“Regular boy scout,” Caleb muttered sarcastically as he jotted down notes.

“That’s me.” Sawyer was getting tired of this bullshit. The fact the Switchblades had tried to kill them tonight was more than a slight concern. All he wanted to do was get home and make sure everyone was safe. So far there’
d been no word on anything happening out at the club house—but he wouldn’t put it past the bastards to try something. Every minute they wasted here talking to Dudley Do Right was a second he could be doing something useful.

“So you got anything to offer up about the Switchblades? Any motive you can think of behind their attack?”

“Nope.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be some kind of retaliation against three of their members disappearing a few months back
, would it?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, Detective,” Sawyer said
, drawing back on his cigarette before squashing it in the outdoor smokers’ bin beside him.

“Never mind,” Caleb said
, flipping his notebook shut. “I’m sure as we process the crime scene more evidence will come to light. You and your club are going down, Riley. Make no mistake. And I’m gonna’ make sure I’m there to see it.”

Sawyer held the man’s furious gaze, keeping his cool. The cops had nothing on him or the club and today’s incident was nothing to do with them. “We’re the innocent victims in all
this, Detective…so maybe you need to just focus on catching the criminals and stop wasting time on revenge.”

“You think you’re so damn smart, Riley, but you keep laughing, this incident has put you on our radar, and now that you’re there, we’ll be digging into your club and if there’s anything there to find—we’ll find it.”

“Knock yourself out,” Sawyer offered with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “If you’re done measuring dicks now, I’d kinda’ like to get home to my woman.”

“I’ll be
seein’ you boys around,” Caleb said as he walked away from the bikers.

“Asshole,” Shaggy muttered beneath his breath.

“We done here?” Sawyer asked Shaggy.

“Yep, the computer and phone are with Dog, and he should have gotten rid of them by now.”

“Good. I would have liked to go through his luggage and check for anything he might have there, but we’re just gonna’ have to hope most of it was on the hard drive. Nothing we can do about it now,” he said, watching as the police finished taking their photos and the body was taken away by the coroner. “Good riddance, scumbag,” he said, as the back door of the coroner’s van slammed shut.

Chapter
9

When they finally arrived back at the club house, Sawyer was relieved to see the whole place had gone into lock down. He’d barely had time to take off his helmet when he looked up to see Whisky heading his way.

“He’s
dead,
Sawyer.”

“It wasn’t us,” he said
, rubbing his hands over his face wearily.

When she still stared at him with that pissed off expression he gave a sigh and knew he had to come clean eventually,
so it may as well be now. “As we walked out of the terminal, a group of Switchblades opened fire on us…the dressmaker was hit. We had nothing to do with it.”

“Switchblades?
But…how?’

“They must have been
followin’ us—I don’t know, somehow we let our guard down,” he swore violently, angry at himself for allowing something like that to happen.

Whisky’s hands began to shake.
“This is all my fault,” she said quietly.

Sawyer
knew what she was thinking and she was wrong. He hated when she put the blame on herself. “This isn’t
just
about that. The Switchblades have been wanting a fight since way before Razor tried that stunt in the alleyway.” Christ, he hated even saying it. He was glad he’d dealt with the scumbag—he was just grateful the guys had managed to stop him before he’d hurt Whisky in an attempt to get at her father.

They’d all been l
ulled into a false sense of security while most of the Switchbladers had been in prison…but now it seemed they were making up for lost time.

“You could have been killed.”

“But we weren’t. Look, it was a close call, but it’s at least given us a heads up. We’ve put mechanisms in place and they won’t catch us off guard again. “

“What kind of mechanisms?”

“No one goes anywhere without backup. No unnecessary trips and everyone stays close to the club house.”

“What about my classes?”

“I’ll have to send one of the boys with you. You go straight there and straight back. I don’t want you staying in the apartment.”

“I’m not leaving Bella alone.

“We’ll bring her here.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, both very aware that this was a dangerous position to be in. Sawyer hated that he’d been caught out tonight. He had no idea how none of his men had been injured and he blamed himself for not somehow seeing it coming.
Clearly the Switchblades wanted to get this fight started,
now
.

At least t
he cops had eyewitnesses who could pin the kids murder on the Switchblades…they wouldn’t have to cover any tracks that way. He rubbed the back of his neck irritably. He’d never intended to kill the guy…he was just gonna’ rough him up a little…okay, maybe a lot…but not
kill
him. Still, he wasn’t cut up over the little prick’s death. He was a scumbag and got what he deserved…he would have just preferred to have dealt with the kid somewhere quieter…not caught out in the spotlight like that. They’d just have to plug as many holes as they could and bunker down till the threat passed.

****

In the club house common room the TV played the morning news and leading the broadcast was the scene from after the shooting had taken place. The beauty of everyone owning a phone with the ability to video tape…there were on-the-spot images showing the chaos of ambulance, police, and sightseers all buzzing around the body that lay on the ground near the gutter.

“As you’re watching these images caught on amateur video just moments after the gangland style shooting late last night, you can see just how blatant these shooters were, seemingly firing into the crowd of passengers as they exited the airport terminal. Police believe this to have been so
me kind of biker gang war that has spilled out onto the streets,”
the reporter said.

“
The victim has been identified as 23-year-old college student Paul Sorenson, son of Senator Bill Sorenson. So far there has been no comment from the Sorenson household, but a press release will be held later this morning.” 

The kid’s
father’s a senator…fuck. Just what we need,
Sawyer thought with a groan. The only good news was about all this new technology where it seemed everyone present had recorded the whole sordid event, was that Dog had gotten away with the computer and phone inside the terminal before they walked out. Having that on national television would have given the cops all the ammunition they needed to drag their sorry asses into the station.

“
Prez, what are we gonna’ do about this?” Shaggy demanded.

“Change of plans, boys. We can’t leave the compound until the cops have finished taking statements and whatever other bullshit procedures they feel a need to go through. The Switchblades know this and I’m pretty sure they’re hoping with us all tied up here and the cops
watchin’ us like hawks, they’ll try to hijack another delivery.”

“We just
gonna’ let them do it? We can’t delay the shipments—there’s orders waitin’ to be filled,” Dog piped up.

“No. We’re not
gonna’ let them do it again…we’re gonna’ plan a little surprise in the next shipment that should solve a few of our problems…or at least buy us some time.” If they could pull this off, not only would it take care of the Switchblades, but it could end this so-called war without even leaving home.