Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
MITCH TOOK the takeaway coffee cup from Ross, grateful he’d brought it to the meeting at the safe house. He sunk into the seat and took a reviving gulp. Ross slid a paper bag with muffins across the table before making a call. Within moments the teleconference was established.
“Hi, Rowena. So what have you got for me?” Mitch spoke into the speakerphone.
He could hear her rifling through some papers. “Got some more detailed background on some of the Soldiers including Warren Jones. He’s one messed-up son of a bitch. I’ve got no idea how he’s managed to stay out of prison.”
“He hasn’t done any time? It doesn’t make sense, not for someone like him.”
“Arrested, not convicted.”
“He’s one lucky motherfucker,” Ross said, glancing up from his laptop.
Ross picked up a page from the manila folder in front of him and passed it over the table to Mitch.
He scanned down the list. When he reached the bottom, he was astounded. “How the hell hasn’t he been convicted? This is a goddamned A to Z of crime.”
Rowena snorted, the sound loud through the phone. “That man’s like bloody Teflon—nothing sticks.” Once again there was the sound of papers rustling as he assumed Rowena referred to her notes. “He and Rocky are similar in many ways. Rocky is a classic example of narcissistic personality disorder—self-important and needing to have others look up to him. His sense of entitlement makes him appear controlling, intolerant, and selfish. If he can’t get his own way, he resorts to anger, which can have devastating consequences. Drug use would only exacerbate his irrational behavior and violent tendencies. Warren—Stack—has clear psychopathic traits. He’s quieter, more controlled and disciplined.”
Ross pushed the laptop away and dragged a hand over his tired face. He focused on Mitch. “Couple Stack with Rocky, and the whole club is a recipe for disaster. Imploding isn’t a possibility; it’s inevitable.”
“Thank God things are coming to a head, then,” Mitch replied.
“What has me most concerned is what happened to Pete. We haven’t found the white Commodore yet but assume it’s one of the Brute Riders. We’ve checked CCTV footage and canvassed the local area, but no luck getting the plates. We’ll keep digging, and it’s only a matter of time. Did Lucky Reed come close to catching or identifying them?”
Mitch shook his head. “He had to stop the chase when he saw a police car heading toward him. It was heading to the scene of the accident. Anyway, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself and the bike, so slowed down. By the time he could give chase again, the Commodore had gotten away from him.”
“Is there any word on the location for the shipment delivery?” Ross asked.
“Not yet. But as I told you, Rocky wants me to step in, fill Pete’s shoes on the job. I’ve been doing a bit of driving for him as well as taking Finn to and from work, and there’s a meeting on Monday. I’m hoping I’ll get more details then. It’s hard to get access to Rocky’s office, and anyway, I don’t think it’s the type of info he leaves lying around. I managed a quick sweep and came up empty-handed. Finn keeps his computer completely locked down. I think it’s been drummed into him to never leave it accessible, so it’ll be up to Lana to crack that one.”
“She’s on it,” Ross confirmed. “I hope you’re right about the meeting. With Pete in hospital and out of the picture, we don’t have anyone on the inside to pass us the information.”
“I’m working on getting them to open up more. After what happened with Pete, they trust me more. I just don’t want to ask too many pointed questions.”
“What about working on Finn some more? From what you’ve said, he doesn’t like Rocky.”
“That’s an understatement. He’s also been pretty clear he doesn’t like the direction the club is headed. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any loyalty and would take direct action against them. After all, he was brought up in the club and it meant a great deal to his father and other brother. If we approach Finn and he realizes how close the task force is, it might backfire. The risk is too high. Especially when I can keep a close eye on him regardless.”
Ross looked up from his keyboard and leveled his gaze on Mitch. “You know best. But if there’s any chance—”
“I’ll keep an eye on him and see what else he knows, but I think he’s passed on whatever Rocky has told him. Monday will be D-day. That should give our guys enough time to set things up on this end.”
“I hope so.” Ross finished typing something and clicked his laptop shut.
“Do you guys need anything more from me?” Rowena asked, her voice cutting into the conversation “If not, I’ll leave you to it.”
“All good,” Ross said. “Thanks, Ro.”
Mitch used Rowena’s departure from the call as a chance to stretch his legs. It had been a long and frustrating morning already. He paced the small apartment before returning to his seat to finish his coffee.
“Has there been any word on Pete? I’ve only had the clinical update. How are his parents doing?” Concern was evident in Ross’s voice. “And more importantly, how are you doing?”
“It’s been a couple of days, and Pete hasn’t deteriorated, so that’s the main thing. He’s still in a coma, but there hasn’t been any additional brain swelling. I’m not sure when they’re looking to try to bring him out of it, but I think the intention is to keep him in a coma long enough for him to start healing.”
“And the Crowleys?”
“I’ve spoken to them a couple of times each day since Wednesday. They’re hanging in there. No one likes to see their son in such a condition—” Fuck, Mitch hated seeing Pete lying there with all the tubes and machines, so could only imagine the distress his parents were going through. “But they’re hopeful.” At the unspoken prompt in Ross’s eyes, Mitch continued. “And before you ask again, I’m fine. I’m upset by what happened to Pete, just like I’d be upset if it happened to any of my other friends, but that’s all.”
Ross seemed to accept the answer and didn’t push Mitch for more. It didn’t stop him asking about Finn, though. “And how are you handling this thing you’ve got going with Finn Cummings?”
“Ah, the million-dollar question.” Mitch drew his hand down his face, reminiscent of the action Ross had made only a short time before. The rasp of a couple of days’ beard growth reminded him he hadn’t had much time for anything apart from driving Finn and meeting with Rocky, and he was well overdue a shave. He sighed and finally met Ross’s gaze. “This is me talking to you as a friend, right?”
“Of course.” Ross relaxed back into his chair.
“I’m not sure I understand it myself. Fuck, it’s been quick and come from total left field, but I’ve got feelings. Finn’s… I don’t know…. There’s something different about him, something special.”
“Mitch, he’s a Cummings—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Mitch sat upright and squared his shoulders. “You think I don’t think about that every minute of every day—”
“And that’s what I’m worried about.” Ross’s voice rose in volume to meet Mitch’s, and Mitch cringed as he realized he was nearly shouting. “You shouldn’t be thinking of Finn Cummings as any more than a means to an end. That kid is part of the Soldiers of Fury hierarchy, and that means he’s the bad guy.”
The words were like daggers to Mitch’s heart, each one piercing with pain. He deflated, and his words dropped to almost a whisper, because no matter what he knew about Finn, no matter how much he knew Finn hated his brother and didn’t agree with everything the club stood for, there was no changing the facts—Finn was still a member of an outlaw bikie gang. “I know. Oh fuck, Ross. What the hell am I going to do? He’s a criminal.”
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Mitch’s eyes snapped up. “What?”
“Oh Jesus, mate. He’s gotten to you, gotten to you deep. I haven’t seen you like this since…. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”
The thing was, Mitch knew Ross was right; he just didn’t want to say it out loud. Voicing his feelings would make it real, too real, and the reality of the situation was something he wanted to avoid as long as possible.