With red-rimmed eyes, he opens the door and gestures for me to come in.
“Jesus, did you sleep at all?” I ask as I kick off my shoes next to the door.
His tongue slides over his lower lip, causing his snake bite piercing to twist. “No coffee?” he replies dryly.
Shaking my head, I walk further into the minimalist’s home and follow him to his office.
As soon as we step inside, my jaw drops. “What the fuck, Colt?”
The desk—which runs across the entire length of the back wall—has five computer screens linked. Each screen displays something different, and I haven’t got a clue what I’m looking at. “What’ve you found out so far?” There’s a second, simple office chair, which I grab and roll over to the screens. Colton sits downin his luxurious office chair and clicks through a few things. The screen changes on two of the monitors, and I decide to focus on those.
“Dragonfly sent me some information she dug up. She has other connections than I do, and we help each other out regularly. It took a little longer than expected to decipher everything.”
“Decipher?”
He nods. “We send everything encrypted and often in some kind of code.” He waves his hand to indicate that he won’t go into too much detail because I wouldn’t understand it anyway. “So I had to decode everything. In the meantime, I’ve found out that she’s discovered serious connections between Vanderberg and the Knights of Mayhem. Not just the suspicions we’ve had, but real shit that links them together.”
“Like what?” I raise my eyebrows and try to make sense of the documents.
“She found payments on both Vanderberg’s and the Knights of Mayhem’s accounts. They originate from the same foreign accounts. She tried to crack the foreign account details, but she hasn’t been able to do so yet.”
“How do you know she’s a woman? You don’t know her, do you?”
“I’ve, er… I’m not sure, but it’s just a gut feeling.” He sighs and clicks on something else. “There was a list of all the real estate Vanderberg ever owned. I put it next to a list I compiled of the Knights of Mayhem. At least half of those buildings were once owned by Vanderberg.” Colt glances cautiously at me.
“Too many to single out one location?”
He visibly cringes. “I’ve narrowed it down to ten possibilities, but if we choose the wrong one, they’ll know we’re onto them.” A list of addresses appears.
“Have you looked at addresses in this area versus other locations?” I study the list more closely.
“Of course, but that still gives us a lot to go on. It’s a huge red flag that those fuckers own so much real estate; it strongly implies their involvement with Vanderberg.”
“What I’m wondering is why they put all the real estate in the MC’s name? It would make more sense to keep it in the individuals’ names so it can’t be traced back to the club unless you’re really using it for business. But that’s a lot of buildings.”
“Those ten are in this area. The rest are scattered across the country. There’s even a few abroad. I imagine they’re used for the trafficking operation. But these ten… I was just about to look them up on Google Maps. I’m sure a few will be ruled out as unsuitable for human trafficking, because that’s still what we think, right?”
I nod reluctantly. God, I hope we’re wrong.
“So that’s what I’m doing. Comparing and crossing off. What’s Pax got?” His fingers fall from the keyboard and he turns his chair toward me.
“Nothing. Nada.Niente. Just picked up a stalker, is all.”
“What? A stalker?“ A strand of black hair falls over Colt’s forehead.
“He gave his number to The Kid after he promised to contact him if he heard anything.” I sigh and rise.
A deep frown appears on Colt’s forehead. “Pax would never give his number unless he seriously thinks The Kid will call him.”
“Or as a sign of trust,” I mutter. “He said he wanted to wait and see.” I walk to the door. ”Thanks, man. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know, and vice versa?”
He nods at me and gets up.
“I’ll find the way out.” I pat him on the shoulder and walk out of the room.
I pause for a moment on the porch to take in the forest. Maybe I should ask my cousin Alex if he’s heard any rumors among the hitmen. Even though he can’t say anything on the record, he might let something slip that can’t be traced back to him.
I drive the final stretch slowly across the beach, heading toward the old trailer my dad once set up here. Alex’s already standing next to me before I’ve even unfolded my stand.
