CHAPTER EIGHT
Jim hung up his cell and shoved it in his pocket. He was beginning to wonder what good it did to have contractors on the club payroll if he still had to threaten their families to assure good work. At least now he was certain that by tomorrow morning the spare room in his house would be set up like a plush hospital room, completely equipped for Susan’s father. The nurse would meet them all at the hospital for the transport, and she’d be given the medicine regimen and daily care. With the salary Jim offered, the woman better not make a mistake, or she’d be staring up from six feet under.
“That sounded rough,” Ari ground out, stepping up beside him and lighting a cigar. Jim considered him with interest. The two of them had kept a distance since their little altercation, and Ari’s nose was still swollen and looked like, this time around, it was going to heal crooked. Not that it marred his looks any worse than they already were. “Everything alright on the home front?”
Jim nodded, lighting his own cigarette. “Yep, it’s all good.” He stared straight ahead of him, cautious of getting in too deep with his club president.
“We’ve got a problem on our hands, Wade. Any thoughts on what to do about the Diablos?”
Jim couldn’t remember the last time Ari had asked his advice, and he had to wonder what the man’s angle was. He opened his mouth to respond, but several of the brothers started yelling. He squinted toward the road, his mood darkening as he saw a train of three black sedans turn in. “What the hell?” he muttered, taking a couple of steps forward.
“This can’t be good,” Ari grunted, following. Together, they strode forward to meet the unexpected visitors.
The minute they stepped out of the car, Jim recognized the suits. Only FBI wore such stiff, no-nonsense suits, and that definitely wasn’t good. He ran through his head, trying to recall if there was anything on the property that was incriminating. Thankfully, he came up with nothing—unless his crew had made a move without his knowledge. If they had, he’d shank them himself once they made it to prison.
Two of the six men flashed their credentials, and Jim made straight for them. “I’m Agent Schertz, and this is Agent Wilson.”
Jim nodded amicably. “Jim Wade. Can I help you boys with something?”
“Mr. Wade, weren’t you recently released from custody on charges of murder?” Agent Wilson asked in a deep, accusatory voice.
Jim grabbed his jacket and smiled. “I was released because the charges were dropped. I didn’t shoot or kill anyone. My brothers and I were attacked. The bullets that killed the victims were deemed to be friendly fire. Is that what you came all this way for?”
“No, sir, we have another matter to investigate,” Agent Schertz told him. “We received an anonymous tip that your club was trafficking drugs and other illegal substances.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up paper. “We have a search warrant for the entire premises, inside and out, including personal and business vehicles parked within this lot.”
Jim took the paper he offered and skimmed it. He’d seen enough of these to know it was legit, and he prayed none of his boys had packed away the kind of treat he shied away from in any of their bikes. He nodded, handing the paper to Ari to check out. “Go ahead, gentlemen. Let me know if anyone is uncooperative or if you need my assistance with anything.”
The two men gave him a suspicious stare and exchanged glances, and then Agent Schertz gave a short nod as the two of them strode in sync toward the building. The rest of the suits followed, and Boxer moved in behind Jim. “What’s going on?”
Jim leaned back and said, “I’d be willing to bet the Devils had a hand in this. Thought they’d take us down the cheap way, staying out of the picture and claiming we had shit here that would get us charged.” He shook his head and scoffed. “The storage building is locked up tight, right?”
“Yes, sir, and none of the keys are here,” Boxer assured him. “They’re with Willie, Digger, and at your house.”
Jim nodded. “Perfect. Then, we’ll just sit back and watch the show.”
Inside, Jim was raging. This was a low blow, even for the Diablos Blancos, and it wouldn’t be a stretch of imagination for the feebs to start looking at the individual properties held by each member of the club. They’d have to move everything on hand quietly, with eyes watching, and that pissed Jim off. When it came down to survival, he took matters seriously, and this time around, he had other people to think about. He wasn’t about to let the Diablos take him down now. Protecting his tribe and his family were the only things he would kill for—and that meant his brothers, as well as Susan and her father.
Lighting another cigarette, he leaned on his bike and waited, knowing that the agents were going to be frustrated at their waste of time as they left empty-handed. Then, he and his boys would have a good laugh before they sat down to discuss the business of retaliation.