“Blue said you may be able to help.”
“And why should I help you?”
Blowing my smoke out, I said, “Well, I’m trying to break up a trafficking ring. The way I see it, that would help you out.”
He motioned for me to come closer. “I’m listening.”
We walked to the table and I sat after he did. Rooster and Red stayed close, but were watching my back.
“So what do you think I can help you with, Hawk?” Juicy asked.
“Do you have any info on a madame that used to work the area? Nicer clientele, hasn’t been heard from in a while?”
He rubbed his chin with his tat-covered hand. “There was a lady, Madame Jojo. It’s been a few years but I heard she was taken out.”
“Any idea who did it?” I asked.
He cocked a brow. “I didn’t work with her, so everything was hearsay, but word was a biker gang had their hand in it.”
My brows pinched. “Around here?”
“Not sure where they were from. But surely y’all ain’t the only one around town?” he asked, clasping his hands together on the table.
“We’re not a gang,” I told him as I stamped out my cigarette in the ashtray. “But not the only club around, just the biggest in the area.”
“My bad. I’ve always been more of a car man myself.”
“Convenient it was pinned on a club. Most of the clubs around here aren’t into sex work. Drugs and guns, maybe a strip club. So it seems you’d have more to gain from her disappearing than one of us.”
“We had much different operations. No change in business since she’s been gone. I had no reason to take her out. And like I said, that was some time ago.”
It was clear he wasn’t giving me more than what he had. Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it. Standing, I said, “Thanks for your time.”
Before I could turn, he said, “My infoain’t free, man.”
Looking at Rooster, then Red, I shrugged. “Hey, no terms were set. And frankly, you didn’t tell me shit.”
One of the safeties behind Juicy clicked, but Red and Rooster were quick. As they rushed the guys behind him, I grabbed Juicy by the suit jacket, lifting him out of his chair, and slamming him to the ground as I pulled my Desert Eagle that Petrov gifted me the night my Pops was killed.
Standing over him with it aimed at his face, I yelled to the bartender, “Drop it or he’s dead.”
The commotion behind the table ended, and Red and Rooster dropped the clips from the rifles and pocketed them, still holding the guns.
Pulling Juicy across the floor with the barrel at this temple, we all made our way to the door, their guns still aimed at the others. “We didn’t come for trouble. We can leave this shit here, or we can make some,” I told them.
Red and Rooster dropped the rifles by the door, I dropped Juicy, and we ran out. We holstered our pistols and took off on our bikes down a side road, as fast as we could. Before we made the turn, someone ran out after us, but they didn’t take a shot.
After a few miles, I made sure they weren’t tailing us. We pulled off into an old dusty parking lot of a closed down gas station to put our helmets on before we got back on the highway.
“Well, that was a bust,” Red said.
“Maybe. But let’s go visit Blue really quick before we head home.”
Peaches-N-Cream wasn’t too far from where we were, so we made the short drive, still making sure Juicy and his guys hadn’t followed us. Pulling up, his parking lot was already halffull midday.
The guy at the door stiffened but let us by without the cover. Once inside, the bouncers walked over.
“Can I help you?” one of them asked.
