Move the Sun (Signal Bend Series) (8 page)

He growled and wiped his mouth, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” With a grin, he added, “Didn’t seem to mind much.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think we’ve established the attraction. But that’s not why you said you were here.” Now she finally made it to the kitchen. “Want a cup? Fresh brewed.”

“Thanks. But don’t put any crap in it. What you drink isn’t coffee. It’s practically dessert.” He leaned against the doorway of the galley kitchen.

She ignored his gibe and poured a cup for him, handing it to him hot and black. Hers, she fixed the way she liked it, creamy and sweet. Then she nodded to the little Formica dining table in the corner of the living room, and they sat down.

“So, what brings you lurking today?”

He grinned. “Lurking is such a sinister word. I prefer visiting.”

“Uh-huh. Why the visit, then?”

“Thought I’d update you on my progress solving the mystery that is you.” He already had her undivided attention, but her ears perked up a little more at that. He took a swallow of his coffee. “It’s good. Strong.” She waited, and he leaned forward, putting his hand on the table alongside hers.

“My guy tells me that what’s between him and your info is military grade. The word he used was
weaponized
. Spent a long time poking at it, but he couldn’t get through. He was worried about keepin’ at it. I told him to back off. So I doubt we’ll be poking at your story anymore. Not like that, anyway.”

Lilli nodded and waited. There wasn’t anything she had to say to that. She could tell him that backing off probably did save the club, and his hacker especially, a lot of grief, because eventually they would’ve tagged him. But she didn’t. She just waited for him to continue his move. She knew he wasn’t done. He wasn’t conceding, not this quickly. She sipped her coffee.

He ran his fingers lightly along her forearm. “Question I have for you is what’s the military—or the government, anyway—doing protecting the information of an unemployed chick living out here in the sticks? Gotta tell ya, Sport, that has me paying attention. I’m starting to think maybe your interests and mine are gonna complicate each other. I can’t have that.”

Lilli pushed her coffee cup aside and leaned toward him. They were nearly head to head. “That sounds on its way to a threat. Is that why you came today? To threaten me?”

He shook his head. “Just making sure all the pieces are on the board, baby. It’s my job to protect this town, these people. There are things about you that make
you
seem like a threat. Can you ease my mind about that?”

Okay, it was time to make a move of her own. “Isaac, I tell you truly, I don’t even know what it is you do that might make me a threat to you. I can tell you truly that I have no interest in your club. No professional interest, anyway. And I can tell you I’m no kind of cop. Don’t even like them. Really can’t stand them, in fact. From what I’ve seen, you’re more of a cop than I am. That’s the best I can do.”

For long seconds in which the silence was thick around them, Isaac regarded her, his eyes squinting slightly. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know why, but I’m inclined to believe you. I’m not happy about it, and I want you to understand what I mean when I say I will protect my people no matter what. But we’ll play a little longer, I think.”

Lilli finished her coffee and took their cups to the kitchen. She didn’t offer him a refill. Instead, she walked to the sliding door and opened it. “Well, thanks for the chat, Isaac. Have a great day.” He sat where he was for a few seconds, watching her, then languorously stood and strolled over.

He leaned down and pressed a soft, sensuous kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you soon, Sport.”

CHAPTER SIX

Isaac’s burner buzzed as he walked back to his bike. He yanked it out of his pocket and answered. “Yeah!”

It was Showdown. “Holding our friend here, thought you might want to drop in.”

“On my way.” He ended the call and mounted his bike.

He was having a shit week. Mountains of uncertainty and risk rising up out of fucking nowhere all of a sudden. He felt deeply conflicted about Lilli, and he was going out on a limb for reasons he couldn’t explain. He needed to get inside his head some and understand whether he was making the right calls there.

But now he had to focus on the other trouble.

He was running point on a shipment into St. Louis today, so he would talk to Kenyon Berry, leader of the
Underdawgs, the crew at the end of their pipeline. If the Northside Knights, whose interests had always been in crack, not crank, were making a run at the Missouri meth trade, Kenyon would know about it and have something to say.

Isaac had gone yesterday to check on Will, see how he was doing after being stabbed by a so-called friend, and get his take on his new beef with the Sullivans. Will had been abrupt and uncommunicative. Isaac had let it go, preferring to give him a chance to calm down and feel better, and then try again. He didn’t want to go hard at a guy he’d been good friends with since grade school. Not unless he had to. For now, he had other avenues he could explore.

Like Mac Evans, for one thing. Slimy piece of shit. For the greater part, the residents of Signal Bend hung together. The ones who’d stayed were committed to staying, and they felt a bond to the town and to each other. Even though there were some rank assholes among them, they were united by the common interest of keeping the town together. Not Evans, though. His only interest was himself. He’d helped banks evict and foreclose on dozens of families, getting a fee from the bank for his efforts. Profiting on the misery of his neighbors, people he’d known his whole life. He wouldn’t get the kind of patience Isaac had for Will.

Mac had dodged Isaac all day yesterday, but Showdown had him pinned in his office this morning, so Isaac went straight there from his perplexing visit with Lilli. If the Knights’ mysterious backer was looking for property in or around Signal Bend, then Mac knew about it. Fuck, he was probably in on it, or trying to be. The situation was about to change, though. Isaac was ready to make Mac an offer he couldn’t refuse.

He pulled up in front of the realty office and went in. Show was sitting in front of Mac’s large walnut desk, stroking his long, tawny beard, his big, booted feet resting on the heavy wooden inbox. Mac had a thing for the 1950s, so most of the décor in his office was of that era. Isaac figured Mac thought it looked vintage. Really, it just looked old. In Signal Bend, lots of old things stayed in use.

Mac was sitting in his roomy, “vintage” leather chair, looking sweaty and uncomfortable. Lisa, his secretary, was not at her usual station by the door.

Isaac nodded a query toward her desk. Showdown answered, “Sent her home for the day. Mac here is giving her a paid day. Right, buddy?”

“Guess so.” Of all the things to be unhappy about today, paying for Lisa’s day off should have been low on Mac’s list. But the asshole was all about the dollar signs.

Isaac turned the “Open” sign over, locked the door, and shut the blinds on the door and front window. Then he pulled up a chair and sat down next to Show, knocking his VP’s legs off the desk. Mac was eyeing him nervously. As he should.

“
Mac. Left a message for you yesterday, but I didn’t hear back. So we thought we’d catch you early today. Got some questions.”

“I’d have called back, Ike. I was tied up yesterday. You guys have no need to shut me down—I’m missing appointments here.”
Mac gave him a petulant look.

Isaac leaned forward, putting his elbows on Mac’s desk. “See, buddy, that’s the thing. That’s what makes me wonder. How busy could a real estate guy be in Signal Bend? I feel like I’d know if there were more people behind on their mortgages for you to fuck out of their homes. So I’m wondering what could have you so busy that I don’t know about.”

From somewhere in the depths of his oily heart, Mac Evans must have found something he thought was courage. Or maybe he’d made a new friend he thought more dangerous than Isaac. Because he leaned forward, too, his palms flat on his desk, and said, “You ever think that you don’t know everything that goes on? You ride around on your noisy-ass bike like you’re the king of this town. Well, let me tell you,
Little Ike
, the world is a lot bigger than Signal Bend, and when it comes right down to it, you’re just a small-time, small-town thug.”

If Mac hadn’t used that hated name, maybe Isaac would have reacted more calmly, spent more time trying to talk some sense into him. But Mac had chosen to heap scorn and disrespect, and he’d gone for the thing he knew would
dig deepest.

Lightning-fast and without a word, Isaac grabbed a large pair of silver scissors off the desk and rammed it through Mac’s hand, pinning him to the desk. Mac shrieked and instinctively tried to pull his hand back, worsening the wound but not freeing him from it.

He was making a huge ruckus. The realty building had some distance from other businesses, but not enough to be sure he couldn’t be heard. As Isaac yanked the scissors out, Showdown clocked the squalling fuck upside his head with his old-fashioned Bakelite desk phone. He collapsed to the desk in a heap, unconscious and quiet.

Showdown gave Isaac a look.
He was almost as tall as Isaac, and every bit as broad, and his steely blue eyes bored into Isaac’s greens. “Brother, you can’t take that bait.”

Isaac glowered at him. “Fuck you. You know we were
gonna have to do it hard anyway. Mac’s an arrogant ass. But he’s also a pussy. He’ll fold.” Show pulled his burner out; Isaac knew he was calling for the van.

They were going to have to fuck up another town resident this week. Putting hurt on Mac Evans wouldn’t lose Isaac any sleep, but what the holy fuck was going on?

~oOo~

Isaac had to meet with Kenyon in St. Louis that afternoon, so he left Show and Vic to deal with Mac, and brought Len, Havoc, and Wyatt on the run. If all went well, it was a turnaround run, and they should be back before midnight. Not that any fucking thing was going well lately.

When they stopped for gas, Isaac called Snow and checked in. Mac had caved, as Isaac had known he would, and, after Bart took Mac’s intel and dug deeper, they now had a name: Lawrence Ellis.

The ride into St. Louis was uneventful. As they rode into the more heavily populated areas, they spread out a bit, pulling away from the pickup with the camper top in which Darren Brown was hauling the actual product. Too tight a formation put them on law radar. Four men in kuttes got notice enough. And sure enough, five minutes after they crossed into St. Louis County, a county trooper pulled up in his cruiser, even with Isaac and Len, and sat there for a good three miles. Just making his presence known. Isaac waved when he pulled alongside, and again when he finally pulled away.

They met the Underdawgs at their usual location, behind a barbeque place on the northern edge of the city’s Central West End. Darren and his brother George handled their business while the Horde looked on. When they were done, Isaac got two envelopes, one from each end of the transaction. That was the deal. The crews were friendly and had been for years, so it was their habit for everyone to sit down to some wings and beer before the Signal Bend group set back off for home. Today, Kenyon and Isaac sat apart from the rest.

Kenyon Berry was a tall, slim man with dark brown skin and darker brown eyes. He kept his head and face shaved smooth. He dressed like a businessman spending the day in the office—sharply pressed slacks, crisp button-down shirts, well-shined shoes, but no jacket. Isaac always felt a little scrubby sitting with him. He was also considerably older than Isaac, about the age his father would have been. Isaac was taller and heavier, and no less mean, but Kenyon had a sophistication that Isaac knew he lacked. He was just keyed into the world better. Maybe it was a city/country thing. Isaac had a great deal of respect for the man sitting across the dinged Formica table from him, and was honored that he got respect in return.

Kenyon finished a wing, wiped his hands clean, and took a long drink from his beer. “Tell me your concerns, Isaac, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“The
Northsiders have somebody new backing them, and it looks like they’re trying to branch out into our turf—yours and mine. He’s leaning on the cookers in Signal Bend, and now he’s leaning on a farmer, trying to get his land. I’m thinking he’s looking to mass-produce—take over the town, take over the corridor. Got a name today: Lawrence Ellis.”

Kenyon abruptly sat back in his seat at the name. “This is news to me. But I know Ellis, and if he’s the player, then things are about to get very interesting. He’s Chicago, and he’s connected all the way to DC.”

Fuck
. Now Isaac sat back. “What does that mean for us?”

“Nothing good. But like I said, this is new information. Let me think this through. I am not without friends, Isaac. That means you’re not without them, either. But I need some time.”

“I don’t know how much time we’ve got, man. That kind of weight leaning on my town? These are not strong people anymore, Kenyon. They’ve taken all the lumps they can.”

The older man stood and put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “It’s a strong town, Isaac. The ones that stay? They’re the strong ones. And they’ve got you and your brothers. I’ll know something in a few days.”

~oOo~

Without illicit cargo to protect, they made good time back home, and they were at the clubhouse by 10:30. It was Friday night, and the place was pretty well packed with Horde, hangarounds, and girls. The music was loud, and the booze was flowing
, and the bud was wafting. Len, Havoc, and Wyatt just about ran inside, girls already under their arms—Len had two, per his custom.

Gwen, one of Isaac’s more regular fucks—and one not looking for anything more—came up. She had a voluptuous bod and fiery red hair, and tonight she looked especially good
, if fancier than was really his taste: snug black skirt made out of some shimmery material, high, red strappy things on her feet, and a tight white top leaving just about nothing at all to the imagination. He could see the rosy tops of her areolae peeking above the neckline. He put an arm around her waist and kissed her hard.

He had business to attend to first, though. So he sent Gwen off with a pat and wink, knowing if he wanted her later she’d be there, and scanned the room for Show. He found him getting head in the hallway.
Show was a family man, but his wife had had some kind of medical problem after their third kid, and that had killed their sex life. So he had permission for head. He was big and built—and, by biker metrics, a gentleman—and the girls loved him. Even so, he availed himself infrequently. Isaac caught his eye and nodded toward the office. Show eased the girl off his dick and followed his boss, closing his jeans as he walked.

Isaac closed the door behind his VP. “What’s the deal with Mac?”

Show leaned against a tall metal filing cabinet. “Visibly, he’s no worse for wear, other than the fancy new stigmata you gave him, but Vic had to go at him hard. He’ll be uncomfortable for awhile.”

Isaac saw no need for further details on that score. “Get anything more out of him?”

“Tough enough to get what we got—Mac’s more scared of these guys than us, boss. Bart pulled the emails, and I had a look. There’s nothing there but a few inquiries about the property. But the trail Bart found leads to Ellis. Who is this guy?”

“Bad news. Big player from Chicago. Kenyon’s lookin’ into it. Meantime, we pay attention.”

Show stood straight and gave Isaac a concerned look. “Isaac.”

“What?” Isaac knew he was about to get some advice. Usually he took counsel well from those he’d tasked with giving it—Showdown
first and foremost. But he was off his game these past few days and already feeling pissed before he’d even heard what Show had to say.

“I know how you feel about Mac. I do, too. He’s shit I scrape off my boot. But I think we need to bring him into the fold. If this Ellis guy is as big a player as you say, we can’t have Mac Evans gettin’ a friend like that. Goin’ hard like we did today, that’s the wrong play with him. We gotta work with him, make him
our
friend.”