“Yeah. He’s got a few more serious complaints around the country, but nothing went anywhere with the law. Women were reluctant to deal with the cops or he paid ‘em off.”
I didn’t like what this was all saying, dammit. But it wasn’t just what Slate had uncovered, it was that niggling sensation that was taking root at the base of my spine, the one that warned me when to trust my gut. “Do you think you can dig deep into his connections, business and personal?”
Slate nodded. “Anything in particular?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted and blew out a heavy breath. “Just everything you can find, I guess. All of this shit that’s happening to Viv seems too coincidental.” And I was a man who didn’t like and didn’t trust coincidence.
“I agree,” Rocky’s deep voice bellowed. “Something don’t smell right about this, but I don’t have enough information to say what exactly.”
That was exactly how I felt.
Slate nodded, fingers flying across the keyboard. He was either making notes. or he was already digging deeper into the asshole ex. “I’m trying to access Petrov’s medical records too. Gotta see what happened in that fucking OR. I’ve seen your woman in action, no fucking way she made a mistake.” He tapped the screen and got a buzzing sound that wasn’t pleasant. “I’m looking into everyone who was on duty that night, checking paperwork to see who else might’ve been to blame.”
“Thanks,” I stood just as Dagger entered the room with his face pinched into an angry expression.
“Who pissed in your oatmeal,” I asked with a smile I didn’t feel.
“There was a drive-by at Leather & Chrome.”
“A fucking drive-by,” Rocky asked, his tone matched all of ours. We didn’t often tangle with gangbangers, who were most likely to do shit like that.
“Yeah,” Dagger answered, his expression more grave than usual. “First reports says it was a bunch of homeboys, but I was tattooing Frenchy when it happened, and he said that’s bullshit.”
I sat up and leaned close. Frenchy was part of the Black Brotherhood MC, who we had a good working relationship with which meant we could trust his intel. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. Said he saw a dark green Impala rolling deep past the tattoo shop as he headed in. He thought it was for him at first until he saw them.”
“He saw them?” I couldn’t believe this shit. “And?”
“According to Frenchy, they aren’t affiliated but they are wannabes. He said they’re kids.”
Fucking kids didn’t just wake up one day and decide to go after our MC. “Frenchy tell you where we can find these assholes?”
“Yeah, said they hang out at the park near the high school.”
I was on my feet in an instant. “Let’s go.”
Diesel stood and stared me down until I relaxed. “Take Gio and Rebel with you,” he ordered. “I want more answers than blood. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I answered with a half-smile. “I got it.”
Diesel narrowed his gaze. “Go.”
It took less than a minute to find Rebel and Gio and explain to them our mission. “Why the fuck are you going?” Gio asked. “I thought you were keepin’ an eye on Dr. Viv.”
“I am,” I answered as we left the clubhouse and headed to our bikes. “But I need to hear with my own goddamn ears that it was the Russians, and I want any other details they have on these assholes. No offense.”
“None taken,” Gio grinned. “I’m fine with being the muscles of this operation.”
“I guess that makes me the babysitter for you idiots,” Rebel grunted and started his bike.
***
We made quick time to the park where we easily found the four little shitheads decked out in hoodies and oversized jeans. They didn’t even look old enough to drink yet, but they’d been responsible for scaring the shit out of a club full of people. They sat around smoking cigarettes and drinking from something hidden inside a paper bag. We approached slowly with me in the lead, and then I waited.
One of them, a blue-eyed kid with dreadlocks. “We don’t got any weed, grandpa. Try the dispensaries and stay the fuck out of the park.”
Rebel had the shortest temper, and he wore his all-business mask. “We ain’t lookin’ for weed. Just answers.” His voice was low and gruff, using that don’t-fuck-with-me tone.
