He wasn't exactly paranoid, but he was careful by nature. The gun was for intruders. The White Wolves didn't have much of a territory, but what they did have was prime real estate in North Houston. They also weren't at odds with any of the other clubs, but that didn't mean that things couldn't change.
And, he had Chelsea in his house.
He lingered in bed for another thirty minutes, playing in his head what he knew about her, and following logic trails to color in some of the blank spots. He was certain that there was more to the tale than she gave him. For example, it was probably true that Tomas was using her as a resource, but for what was a large gray area. His instincts told him that he wasn't using her only for his job. Something was missing.
Unable to mentally ferret out what that something was, after half an hour of pondering he got up, put on some pants and a t-shirt, and then made his way to the kitchen to make coffee. The market would open at eight, so he had plenty of time to relax, make breakfast, and have a few cups of black caffeine before he needed to jump online and begin his day.
Elias discovered the market at seventeen. Shortly after that he realized that the market didn't move based on anything like actual facts; it was completely based on perception. Then he discovered that he had a knack for picking out what events would move the market, and where the movement would occur. For example, when the real estate and banking took a dive in 2008, he knew that the Internet industries would also take a hit—a big hit. Sure enough, Yahoo's stock plummeted to less than five dollars a share. He bought as much as he could afford, because he knew that the rest of the world would soon figure out that real estate and banking had nothing to do with Internet services, and Yahoo's stock would come back up. When the stock hit forty a couple of years back, he sold, and bought his fourth and fifth rental homes.
If he was pressed he would say that his instincts for the market were the same instincts he had for threatening situations. He was very good at divining whether a situation was a matter of perception, a bluff, or truly a threat.
His instincts about Chelsea's situation told him that it was truly a threat, but there were too many holes for him to know how, or why. That was fine for now. He would act as required for a real threat, and hone his actions as new information presented itself.
After coffee was made, he went into his office and turned on his computer. By the time the pot was perked he verified that there was a detective in the Narcotics division of Houston proper named Tomas Brick. Tomas was thirty-five, had blond hair and green eyes, and had been on the force for twelve years as a detective, three as a patrolman. The picture was probably not recent, but close enough that Elias felt he would recognize Tomas if he caught sight of him.
Chelsea came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel as he was coming out of his office, and the sight of her shifted his groin and caused a sharp ache of need. She really was a very beautiful woman, with curves in all of the right places. Her long legs were mesmerizing extending down from the bottom of her towel which barely covered her ass.
"Good morning," she smiled, and her smile lit and warmed many key areas of his body and mind.
"Morning," he replied. "Coffee?"
"Oh, that would be good. Let me get some clothes on. I didn't expect you to be up already. You said seven, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I woke early. Flummoxed me as well. Cream? Sugar?"
"Both please. I'll be right out."
"Sure," he said, and hoped that his ogling wasn't too obvious. He started to turn away, back to the kitchen, and then causally asked, "Are you still on probation?"
"No," she said, and then something flickered in her eyes, which told him that she didn't want to tell him about that—at least not right now. "Why do you ask?" she added cautiously.
"Just trying to see where the legal lines are drawn. If you aren't on probation then we can ship you to California if we choose, and you won't have to worry about a backlash, right?"
"True," she nodded, and seemed to relax a little. Then she went into her room and closed the door.
So, if she's not on probation, then what hold does Tomas have on her?
The answer appeared to be none, from the story she gave him.
More holes.
He set that thought aside and went into the kitchen. After pouring two cups of coffee and doctoring Chelsea's for her, he found his cell phone and waited for Chelsea to come out of her room. It didn't take long. As she approached the table he speed-dialed Larry Turner, the club's attorney, and one of his partners at the Log Cabin.
"Hey Larry, I didn't wake you did I?"
"No, no, I've been up for two hours already, what's up?"
"Good," Elias said. "This is business so start your clock."
"Alright, shoot."