“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” Jasper says finally. “Not with what we know about this asshole. What we need to do is get verification that he’s there. And if that aunt of his is there, we need to make every effort to pull her out of harm’s way. I’m looking at you here, Mica.”
Mica takes a deep breath. “I understand. We don’t need to get involved if we’re going to put an old lady’s life at risk. I’ll make sure she’s safe if anything pops off.”
I chime in, “And once we verify that he’s there, we call it in so Jasper can alert Morgan, right?”
“Yeah, that’s the game plan. If you can do that without him knowing you’re there, all the better. I don’t want anything that smells like a PR disaster.”
“Then you call Morgan,” I say. “And law enforcement takes it from there.”
Slate throws his hands up. “I’m still stuck on the part about how we’re gonna verify he’s there without letting him see us. Are we gonna go creeping around and peer in through the windows like peeping toms?”
That’s when I speak up again. “I’ve got an idea. Mind, it ain’t a very good one but it is all I can think of.”
And every eye in the room turns to me.
Jasper says, “If you’ve got an idea, I want to hear it.”
“We knock on the door with burgers in a bag and hand off the bag,” I say. “I think that’s something so normal, no one would think to question it.”
Jasper frowns at me. “Except no one ordered burgers. Don’t you think that would arouse suspicion?”
I shrug. “Nah. Food gets delivered to the wrong address all the time. We know what restaurants he uses because we have access to the prepaid card paper trail,” I continue. “Brennan is just sloppy enough to consider it a gift from the gods and move on.”
Slate shakes his finger at me. “I like this idea. Food shows up, he opens the door. His attention is on the food he likes, not the delivery driver.”
Mica points out the one flaw in an otherwise good plan. “Brennan knows what you and I look like. He might be familiar with Slate as well. He’ll freak if he sees us.”
“Yeah, we use Rivera,” I tell them. “He’s relatively new, a low level prospect and I doubt Brennan was ever face-to-face with him. But Rivera’s seen his face a hundred times by now. With all the times we’ve shown his mugshot lately.”
I can tell by Slate’s expression he’s all in on this idea. He pulls out his cell phone. “I’ll text him to meet us out front for a mission.”
Jasper straightens. “Alright, move out. Get there before he slips away, make sure he’s there. When the cops arrive, that’s your cue to get the hell outta there. Remember, this is an undercover mission. That means you go in a cage. Motorcycles are loud. They tend to announce themselves in advance. That’snot what we need right now. And you need to leave your cuts behind on this one.”
Jasper’s gaze moves around the room, locking eyes with each of us in turn. “Stick to the plan. Don’t confront him, force him into a corner, or spook him.”
Slate shakes his head. “Why do we always get stuck doing Morgan’s job for him?”
Jasper shoots him an annoyed look. “We’re an outlaw motorcycle club. Do I really need to explain the extreme importance of having an inside man at the local PD? Morgan doesn’t want to mobilize his entire detachment for every lead or be embarrassed in front of his brothers in blue when those leads don’t pan out. Verifying Brennan is there shouldn’t be a difficult task.”
“The way I see it, you aren’t doing Morgan’s job, you’re doing mine. I want this fucker caught and behind bars so my Emily can start living her life again without always having to look over her shoulder.”
***
We cram into Mica’s large SUV. It’s got third-row seating and can hold us all. It only takes a minute to grab burgers from his favorite restaurant. I toss the bag to Rivera.
When we get closer, Brennan’s aunt’s neighborhood looks straight out of a brochure. There are wide streets, trimmed hedges in front of every house, large yards, and even shade trees for the kids to climb. It’s the kind of place where people would freak out to find a murderer living amongst them.
Rivera’s in the back seat with the food bag on his lap. He checks the receipt taped to the bag once and then leaves it alone.
We park half a block down from the house, split into two groups, one on each side of the street. We leave our vests inthe car so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves. Then we stagger our approach, so we don’t look like a gang moving together. This is one of the many tricks we’ve learned over the years to fly under the radar.
The house is an immaculate two-story brick with a fancy door. There are two cars in the driveway. Nothing indicates a killer might be hiding inside.
Slate peels off first, crossing the street without looking back, slipping between properties until he disappears around the side of the house. He’s got the rear covered now, eyes on the back door, waiting for movement that might never come.
Mica stays with Rivera, falling into step beside him as they head up the walk. They look right together. Two guys killing time, one holding a bag that smells like fried food and chicken. Mica keeps his hands loose, posture easy, eyes up. The plan is for him to stay out of sight. If things go sideways, Rivera will grab the aunt and hand her off to Mica, who will get her out of harm’s way.
I’m pretty fuckin’ confident but know even the best laid plans are no guarantee of success.
