Derringer Gage was waiting for Prosper and his boys at the door of the warehouse. Derringer was a small man with hard eyes, a mean mouth and several Vietnamese prayers inked onto his skull. Rumor had it that he had been a very effective and thorough interrogation specialist during the Vietnam war. Hal had wondered more than once about what Derringer’s deal was. Oddly, along with his reputation for extreme and systematic brutality, it was also well-known in the circuit that Derringer ran his chapter with integrity, was dedicated to Prosper, and would do anything for the brothers in the HSMC.
“Thanks for making the trip, brother.” Prosper gave him a hard man clap on the back in greeting.
“Anytime, anywhere, anything for you, brother,” Derringer automatically responded. Then he lifted his chin towards the individuals seated on the other side of the warehouse. Hal hardly recognized them as the same two men who had attempted the assassination at the lake house. It seemed that Derringer had been a very busy guy.
The two hit men had their hands, feet, and necks wrapped in heavy chains. Their limbs stuck out at odd angles giving them the look of bloodied, broken scarecrows. Blooms of purple patches covered their naked chests and told the story of internal bleeding and organ damage. Their eyes were swollen shut and their noses were non-identifiable. Blood had congealed in their hair in a gory mess and they weren’t moving.
“Are they dead?” Prosper asked dispassionately.
“Not yet. You want ‘em dead?” Derringer cupped his hand over the end of his cigarette and lit it. Then he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as if relaxing after having had a very long work day.
“Nice rings.” Diego snorted.
Derringer looked down at his hand as if just remembering the bloodied brass rings on his knuckles and grinned. He pulled them off and set them on a table that held a few pairs of pliers, a set of surgically sharp tweezers, and a box full of small shards of splintered glass.
A collection of razor edged knives were laid out on a black velvet cloth, and next to it sat a small tin cup filled with a bloody soup of what looked like…teeth?
“Did they talk?” Prosper looked with disgust at the prone figures.
“Oh, hell yeah. Big asshole sang like a canary. Little one took some gentle persuasion.” Derringer grinned a terrible grin.
“And?”
“We got a problem.”
Prosper spat on the concrete floor and snorted in derision, “When don’t we have a fucking problem?”
“Problem’s name is Eddie Lobards. He goes by…”
“Rooster.” Diego finished for him. “His club name is Rooster.”
“What do we know?” Prosper turned to Diego.
“Prospect’s been with the club for about six months. Comes from Nevada. He’s a mouthy fucker, likes his women dirty, and his sex public. He was at the after- wedding thing we hosted.”
“He the one that had that bitch caterwauling and blowing him under the spotlight?” Reno asked.
“Yeah, that was him.”
“Who sponsored him?” Prosper asked.
“Cap called in the request for his transfer from Boulder City. Prospect was just about at the end of his year when he asked permission to make good on the rest of his time here on the east coast. Reason he gave for the move was that his mom was sick.”
“But he’s not one of ours.” Prosper knew every goddamn man in his home chapter inside and out. Every member who wore the Crownsmount patch was handpicked. He expected the presidents of the other chapters to do the same. The selection process was tough for a reason.
This fucking reason.
Diego picked up where Reno left off. “He’s with Brute’s boys over in Highpoint. Me and Reno did the initial interview together, and then I had Jules go over his shit with a fine-toothed comb. Every bit of Rooster’s story checked out, but there was just something about him that made me uneasy. Nothing I could put my finger on though, so I sent him along to Brute’s crew, but I had Brute attach a rider. We added an extra six months to Rooster’s probate time.”
“How deeply is he involved?” Prosper looked at Derringer.
“Up to his nut sack,” Derringer snorted. “Sold the club out for 100 K and a piece of the drug action that Sebastian is still trying to make work with the Colombians. He was the one who gave up the location of the lake house, and helped arrange the hit on Gianni’s daughter.”
The muscle in Hal’s jaw was working overtime, and there was hell to pay in his eyes when he turned to Jules. “We hear from the plane yet?”
“No.”
In the next five minutes, two things happened in lightning fast succession. One was the call from Gianni’s guy informing them that Gia had not made her connecting flight back home. The next was the call from the crew waiting at the hangar.
“Talk to me.” Prosper spat out then listened for about ten seconds before he hung up and growled out to Jules. “I want everything there is to know on that traitor, Eddie Lobards. Put in a call to Brute and let him know that his goddamn prospect is a turncoat. And I want word out to every chapter on the east coast to get out on the road and look for that cocksucker. Maybe we’ll get lucky, but my guess is he’s already got those girls and went into hiding with them.”
“You sayin’ Valentina and Gia are both missing, Boss?” Hal asked while the muscle in his jaw jumped, and his hands clenched in tight fists.
“That’s exactly what I’m fucking sayin’.”