“No. Already gave my statement.” She frowned at the phone in her hand. “Shari’s watching Trent, but she has to get to work soon. Jess rode with me in Wasp’s Jeep, and I don’t want to leave her stranded here by herself. Especially not after everything she’s been through today.”
“Shari’s watching Trent?” I asked, surprised. Shari was a club whore who had big fake titties, dressed like a tramp, and swore like a sailor. Trent was far too smart and observant to be left with someone of her… uh… qualities. God only knew what sort of shit she’d teach the kid. Carly needed to get back to her son like yesterday.
She nodded, looking a little green around the gills.
“Go,” I replied. “I’ll take care of your girl. Does she have somewhere to go?” The idea of getting a little more time with Jessica had potential, but there was no way I’d take her back to her apartment with a broken door and the memories of what had happened there. Especially since I knew Carly and Trent would be staying with Wasp for the foreseeable future.
“She has parents up north, but I don’t know if she’ll want to stay with them. The traffic would make her morning commute hell.”
I nodded, understanding all too well the hardship of Seattle traffic. “I’ll check with Link and see if we can put her up at the station.” Since our headquarters was only blocks from Carly and Jessica’s apartment, it would be more convenient for her.
Carly’s face lit up as she rushed forward to give me a hug. “Thank you! You’re the best, Spade. I’ll text her and let her know you’re handling everything.”
“Get out of here. I like Trent. I don’t want to see him get kicked out of preschool for smokin’ and swearin’,” I said, pushing Carly toward the door.
“Oh, God.” She hit the doors running.
With no idea how long I’d be waiting, I took a seat and pulled out my phone to check in with Link. He and Emily were in with Wasp and Havoc, making sure they didn’t answer anything incriminating. He replied, telling me that Jessica was welcome to stay and to let Eagle know which of the empty rooms she’d take.
Planning to stash Jessica in the room across the hall from mine, I texted Eagle. Then I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for a response and wondering what else I should do. It bugged me that Nate had made such short work of Jessica’s apartment door. In fact, her building’s complete lack of security pissed me off. Using my phone to search the internet, I found her building manager’s contact information and made a call.
Matt Hempernick answered on the fourth ring. After listening as I explained the situation, he replied, “I’m aware of what happened. Procedure has to be followed, but I’m sure we’ll repair the door. What did you say your relationship is to Ms. Munroe?”
“I’m a friend, and that door is beyond repair. It, and the entire frame, need to be pulled off and replaced with a more secure solution.”
“I’m not authorized to speak with anyone other than the tenant about her apartment.” He was trying to play the privacy card and I wasn’t about to let him get away with that shit.
“I’m not talking about the apartment. I’m talking about the door. It’s a piece of shit and you can’t repair it. The frame’s shot, too.”
“Although I’m sure you’re a certified expert on doors, we do have a procedure to follow and our maintenance man will evaluate it.”
Condescending little bastard.
Maintenance people were rarely licensed and known for cutting corners and doing shit jobs. “As a matter of fact, Iaman expert on doors. I’m licensed and bonded and I’m trying to help you and my friend out by telling you that door is not repairable.” And I was losing patience.
Hempernick snorted. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll take it under advisement.” His tone made it clear he’d do nothing of the sort. The son-of-a-bitch was dismissing me.
Letting my anger seep into my voice, I tried again. “You’re not listening. That door is a piece of shit, and if you don’t mount an up-to-code replacement, I’m going to shove every splinter of the broken one up your ass. You feel me?”
“You’re not on the lease,” he reiterated, still trying to pull that bullshit card. “I don’t know who you think you are, and why you believe this is any of your business.”
He clearly didn’t value his life.
“I’m a concerned citizen who won’t sit idly by and let a cheap-ass slumlord take advantage of a single woman. I’m also an Army veteran, a member of the Dead Presidents Motorcycle Club, and a licensed contractor who knows how to call the state and report a violation of a tenant’s fucking right to a safe rental in good repair. That’s who the fuck I am, and I’m making this my business. Either mount a new fucking door, or I’ll use the old one to mount you. You understand,Matt?”
“I’ll talk to the owner and see what he’s willing to do.”
“You do that.” I said before ending the call.
When I looked up, half of the cops in the room were watching me. I hoped Matt chose to do the right thing, because if I ended up having to kill that motherfucker, the word ‘premediated’ was sure to come up.
My phone dinged with an incoming text from my father and I swore under my breath as I opened it.
Dad: You planning on coming back? Breaks aren’t supposed to be all day.
He made it sound like I was slacking, like I did this shit all the time or something. My father didn’t understand my involvement with the club, but as long as it didn’t distract me from work or family obligations, he held his tongue. I couldn’t tell him that I’d left work for club business without getting an earful about my responsibilities. But I also didn’t like to lie to him. It took me a few minutes to come up with a truthful reply that would explain my absence—not make me sound like I was shirking my duties—and not worry him.
Me: Sorry. I meant to message you. I witnessed a shooting and the cops needed me to come down to the station so they could question me. I don’t think I’ll be back today.
