Chapter Four
Roddick
“What the fuck, man?” Within seconds of locking my front door, I had my piece in my hand aimed at the man twiddling his fucking thumbs in my favorite burgundy leather recliner. The chair sat in the corner giving me the perfect view out the window, at the television, and of both entrances to my house. I accused Lazarus of being paranoid, but I had a healthy amount of it myself. It came with being a soldier and an outlaw.
Brockton smiled that smug smile of a Fed, not seeming all that worried about the gun aimed at his head. “I needed a meeting, and you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Whatever the fuck you believe, Brockton, I don’t sit around waiting for you to blow up my phone.” The man had a death wish because if he pulled this shit again, I’d pull the fucking trigger.
“We have a location on the money for the first drop, and we need another. At least three.” He looked at me expectantly, like I was supposed to jump in the air and click my fucking heels together.
“Why?”
“So we can watch the locations and track the cash.”
These Feds thought everything was so goddamn easy because they never learned to plan for the worst. “And you don’t think Lazarus will get suspicious about where all of our new buyers are coming from since we’ve been against drugs from the beginning?”
Brockton’s lips curled again, full of smug confidence. “Absolutely not. He only cares about the money, end of story. Keep it coming and he’ll keep you flush with drugs.” He pulled two large bricks of cash from the bag on the floor and smacked them on the table, taking the drugs I’d retrieved from a hiding place in my bedroom.
“If you really think that then this operation is in more trouble than I thought.” I grabbed two beers from the fridge, surprise flashed in my eyes when Captain America took one. I popped the cap on my bottle and took a seat. “You might be right about Lazarus having a boss, but he’s not just paranoid, he’s careful. If this shit comes back on the club, we’re gonna have problems.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.
“I know you CAOS boys don’t think too highly of the government, but we’re good at what we do, Roddick.”
“I think you might actually be good at your job, Brockton, but you don’t know how a guy like that thinks. Imagine how ruthless, how intelligent a flamboyant guy like that has to be to stay at the top for so long.” I didn’t know a single gay man in any of the organizations we dealt with never mind at the top. “He cares about money, but I promise you he cares about his freedom more.”
“Maybe so, but we’ve got this under control.”
“You think you do, but I guess we’ll see in the end. Have you checked your task force for vulnerabilities because the Devils have people everywhere?”
I saw that hint of concern in his eyes, but I decided not to go there. “It’s under control.”
“Whatever.” I finished my beer and a stood, a clear sign that it was time for him to go. “I’ll call you soon.”
He thanked me for the beer and left through the backdoor, along the trails behind my house so no one would see him. When he was long out of sight, I grabbed another beer and contemplated going back to the clubhouse. We still had prospects to deal with, and if things went the way they were supposed to, we needed them to be ready. But after spending all day there all I wanted to do was relax with a soft warm woman in my arms.
Too bad the only woman I wanted in my arms was currently pissed as hell at me, and rightfully so. The way she looked at me right before she dropped down in her car left me feeling gutted, wrung out. Hurt and disappointment shone in her big brown eyes, and there was more than a hint of anger in those depths. I deserved her anger, goddammit, but I’d been trying to call her for days. Texting too and she hadn’t responded to any of it which pissed me off. And on top of ducking my attempts to contact her, she was never home when I stopped by. She was definitely avoiding me.
And what did I expect, taking her virginity and then leaving in the middle of the night? If someone else had done that to her, I’d be the first in line to kick his ass. It didn’t matter that I freaked out like a fucking little boy and ran away. She didn’t deserve to have me leave and not call her for two days, and she sure as shit didn’t deserve the arrogant way I’d shown up like I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I fucked up, and I had done so spectacularly. But I could admit that I was wrong, and I wanted to make it up to her.
If she would ever give me the fucking chance.
***
Shit was different when Mick and I met up with Lazarus for another exchange. For one thing, the crazy little fucker hadn’t flirted with me once and I was grateful, but everyone was tense. He walked up to me holding two brown paper wrapped bricks and pushed them into my chest, letting his tiny hands graze against me. “Does this mean your little town is now a thoroughfare for our product?”
Oh, he’d fucking love that. “Hell no. I don’t want this shit infecting my town or the people in it.”
He laughed, clapping his hands with delight. “I understand. Not your town but other towns are okay?”
“Other towns ain’t my problem.”
“You boys are doing a good little business. Do you mind if I ask where you’re conducting it?”
Mick growled, “So you can try to hone in on our turf? I don’t fucking think so.”
I wanted to smile at Mick’s vehemence. “That’s what you might call proprietary information,” I told the man to appease him.
This time Lazarus tilted his head back and let loose a loud guffaw of a laugh. “Roddick, you do amuse me.” He gave another quick clap of his hands before he made a shooing motion. “Off you go, boys, to make us rich. See you soon, Roddick.”
I gave a quick nod, and Mick and I made our way back to our bikes and met up with Torch and Cash. After getting shot a few months back we weren’t taking any fucking chances, especially if Lazarus even had a clue what we were up to.
When we got to Brently the guys took the exit toward the clubhouse, and I continued on toward that fucking office building I was growing to hate more with every meeting. The process of debriefing was long and tedious, with Brockton and Johnson throwing questions at me like I was some fucking suspect. They logged in the drugs using specific information, and by the time it was all over, hours had gone by. I knew it was important work, but fuck if I ever thought I’d be doing any kind of work for Uncle Sam again. I knew this was good work though because while I had no problem with grown men and women who willingly smoked, snorted, and injected drugs—that was their business—I had a big fucking problem with the women and girls it was forced upon to make them easier to deal with. And the kids they forced to sell that shit made me sick to my stomach. Yeah, I had a big problem with that shit.
“You did good, Roddick. This is really going to help us out.” Brockton smiled and sealed the money into evidence bags.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“You’re a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?” Johnson smirked, but it wiped off her face when I stood to my full height and closed in on her.
“You have a big fucking mouth, little girl.” Damn, I wished she were a man so I could lay her out. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“How about I let Lazarus know the Feds are looking into him? Maybe I’ll tell him some agent named Molly Johnson is asking questions.” Her already pale skin paled further, and that left me intrigued. Maybe it was time to dig into the little bitch.
“All right, you two, that’s enough. Johnson, get out.” She sneered and flounced out as Brockton raked a hand through his hair. “Ignore her, Roddick, but man you can’t threaten a federal agent.”
“It wasn’t a threat.”
He swallowed whatever he’d been about to say and nodded. “I’ll call you soon, but seriously, thank you.”
I didn’t want his fucking thanks. I just wanted this shit to be over. With a half grunt, I walked out of the building, hopped on my bike, and didn’t stop until I was parked outside Cherie’s house. Of course, her car was gone and there wasn’t one light on, not even to illuminate the porch.
I did the only thing I could. Dismounted my bike and sat on her porch.
Waiting like a fucking dog.