Steele: Into Your Heart (Carolina Bad Boys #3 (28 page)

Vigilante

HUNTER MET MY GAZE without so much as a flinch when I drew back my fist to pound his face.

“Brodie! Brodie, man. I didn’t call you in here to kill him.” Probie grabbed my arm to dislodge me but my grip was ironclad on Hunter’s neck.

“That’s too damn bad, because that’s exactly what I aim to do.” I only spared a quick glance beyond Probie where several charter members stared at me like I’d lost my ever-lovin’ mind. “Clear the room.”

“Brodie—” Probie tried again.

“GET EVERYONE THE FUCK OUT NOW!”

“I think I can help clear everything up, Brodie, if you’d consider letting me breathe,” Hunter said.

I waited for Probie to pull the door closed after the last gawker left. Tightening my hold, I gritted out, “You don’t seem to be havin’ a hard enough time breathing.”

A faint glimmer appeared in Hunter’s too-cool eyes. “I could break free if I wanted to, but I’m not going to disrespect you in your own house. I’ll tell you this though, you’re wasting time if you want to find Ashe.”

Staring him down as his breaths finally came sharper and shorter, I tensed a last time before letting him go. Spinning around, I kicked the nearest chair clear across the room. “If you had anything to do with why the hell I can’t reach her, so help me—”

Hunter rubbed at his throat, and then retrieved the chair I’d hurled out of my way. Placing it back to front, he straddled it. “I was brought in undercover to work with her and Davies.”

Shock sucker-punched me. I plunked my ass down in the seat across from him. “What?”

“I’m investigating Retribution from the inside. I’ve got the MC creds.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“The higher ups at MPPD. And this kid here, apparently.” He reached out, slapping Probie on the leg. “What are you? A fuckin’ narc yourself?”

“I watch a lot of TV, read a lot of crime books, that’s all.” Probie ducked his head. “Something about you. You’re big and in-your-face visible—I mean you’re an attractive guy, right? The honeys dig you—but you move around here almost unseen.”

“Like a fucking ghost.” I sat forward. “That’s why I couldn’t find anything about you online.”

Hunter’s lips tilted in a half-formed smile. “Something like that.”

“If you’re part of the investigation, why the hell aren’t you with Ashe right now?”

“I was told to make sure none of you get involved.”

“And now?”

“All bets are off. I’m more interested in making sure Detective Kingston stays alive than maintaining protocol.”

His words were like a knife slicing right through me. “What’s going on? And don’t you dare bullshit me.”

“I think we should speak privately.” He jerked his head toward Probie.

“Fuck that. He stays. He pegged you as UC, there’s no telling what else he’s seen that we haven’t.”

With a curt nod, Hunter got down to business. “If your gut was telling you Dirk is shady, you were right.”

“I point-blank asked Ashe about Dirk, and she denied it.” I rose half off my seat with a shout.

“She had no choice, Brodie. Keeping you safe.”

“Great. Right now my gut’s tellin’ me Ashe is in big fucking trouble, so let’s get on with it.” Raw nerves were eating through those guts minute by minute.

“Cole, get us a few drinks then pull up a chair. If you’re in, you’re in,” Hunter said.

“But make it snappy, Probie.” I ran my fingers through my hair and glared at his retreating back.

As soon as he returned with three shots, Hunter downed his neat whiskey in one.

“Few things you need to know first. Dirk isn’t the stupid clueless shitbag he’s made you all think he is.”

“Beg to differ, he’s definitely a shitbag,” I shot back.

“Granted. But in all other respects, he’s highly intelligent. He’s sort of a criminal genius.” Hunter drummed his fingers on the table. “Started out smalltime. Dealing a little weed when he was a teen. Got into the theft racket in his twenties—took over from his pappy. Steal and deal. When the Feds sent his dad down, Dirk decided he didn’t want to be small-time anymore. High aspirations, that one. It only took him a few years to gain complete control of the lowcountry’s meth operations. Miss Leta Ann Clark
runs the prostitute side of the operation for him. Gets the girls hooked on crank and then gets them to
hook
for their next hit. They got it
all
figured out.”

“Leta. That lying bitch.”

“I’d be more worried about Dirk. He’s got a serious hard-on for your old lady. Revenge on his mind for the hand she played in his dad getting sent up the river.”

“Then why the fuck did Sipowicz put her on the case if you guys knew all that shit?”

“Sipowicz?” Hunter asked.

“MPPD Chief.”

His dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “That fits. I’ll have to tell Chief Tilden sometime. He’d like it.”

“Listen. I get you’re all Zen-master-undercover-detective and shit, but cut the fucking crap already before I cut your throat.”

“Chief knew Ashe could rattle Dirk’s cage, make him screw up. Maybe lure him into doing something stupid.”

“She’s been bait?”

“Kingston’s smarter than that, and you know it. She questioned him on several occasions, and because he has it out for her, he lost some of his usual slack-ass attitude. She cracked him. She cracked this case. She, Davies, and I have all the evidence sewn up tight.”

I stood up to pace beside the table. “Has he been running shit through my club? Is anyone else involved?”

“I should probably tell you we obtained a court order. Cameras were placed in here and throughout Chrome and Steele six weeks ago.”

“Good.” I clenched my jaw.

Hunter’s eyebrows arched. “Not the reaction I expected.”

“I don’t care what’s been done or what has to be done to keep this place clean.”

“Well, it is. Retribution came up smelling like roses. You and Boomer run an exemplary charter and a solid business. You got no worries there.”

I gripped the back of my chair with white knuckled fists, allowing one brief moment of relief to wash over me. “Keep going. I need to find Ashe. Where is she, man? What happened to her?”

“Arrest warrants for Dirk and Leta were issued this morning.”

“And?”

“Dirk grabbed Ashe.”

“Fuck! Is she alive?” My heart dropped down to my stomach, rage and worry colliding inside me.

“He dragged her in front of him as he made a run for it. Pushed her into his car and made her drive. The attending officers did not expect him to run. They lost the vehicle en route. We think Leta is with them.”

“What about Davies? Wasn’t he there?” I lunged for the man. Probie jumped up behind me and tried to restrain me.

“Dirk wasn’t interested in him.”

With a roar, I sprang from Probie’s grasp, arms swinging. “Davies just let her go? He should’ve stayed on her!”

Hunter’s neck snaked back as I snapped a ring-encrusted fist at his face. My blow whistled past without making contact, and Hunter rose from his chair. On my next swing, he grabbed my wrist midair and twisted it behind my back, bringing me chest to chest with him.

“Settle it down now, Brodie. This isn’t helping matters.”

After I closed my eyes and counted to ten, I nodded. Hunter released me. I stared at him, my face a stony mask. “Where is Davies now? Where the fuck is he?”

“With the other plain clothes at the station holding his limp dick in his hand.”

“That is not reassuring,” I gnashed out.

“The jail cells are full of their cash cows and crank-heads, but they’re all keeping mum. We’ve got no leads as to Dirk and Leta’s whereabouts, and we can’t keep the prossies and perps in custody much longer.”

“You made me sit through all that to tell me you’ve got nothing?” I sneered in Hunter’s face. “At least show some emotion. This is the woman you work with, the woman I love.”

“If I got my shit wound up every time somebody’s life was in danger, I’d be out of a job and wrapped in a straitjacket. I made you sit through all that so you know exactly what we’re dealing with, and it is not the Dirk
you thought you knew all these years.”

“What exactly are the police doing about it, because it looked like Armageddon when I was down at the station?” I wanted to go ballistic, but the asshole was right. I couldn’t lose my shit, not when Ashe’s life was on the line.

“Looking for her, and hoping for a break.”

“A break isn’t good enough.”

“I don’t think so either.” Hunter studied me for a moment then said, “Call your brother and get him here. We might need him. Got a permit to carry?”

“Yeah.”

I placed the call to Boomer, keeping it a short and serious SOS. I went into the office safe next door for my handgun. By the time I returned to the clubhouse, Hunter had laid his badge, his Glock, and a shotgun on the bar. He was busy loading bullets, listening to the walkie-talkie that had materialized at his side.

A few minutes later Boomer stomped inside, wearing a hip holster. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Probie.” I pushed the man in Boomer’s direction. “Bring my brother up to speed.”

Hunter turned to me. “Now I need you to think. Where would Dirk go? Does he have any hideouts? Any property off the record? Someplace that reminds him of his dad?”

“Fuck if I know. Barely tolerated the guy. We didn’t exactly sit around discussing his daddy issues.” Looking across the room, I watched Boomer soak in the bad news Probie delivered. My brother’s face visibly hardened as his eyebrows drew down over his eyes.

“Yo! Probie! Get your skinny ass over here,” I called out.

He did the dead man walk back to me like he thought I was about to hit him. Okay, so maybe I was a little unhinged. “What do you know about where Dirk might go?”

Probie rubbed his forehead back and forth. “I dunno. Let me think for a minute.”

Boomer whispered in my ear, rage evident in his raw voice. “Dibs on killing Dirk.”

“Not if I get there first.”

“He mentioned a cabin up in Summerville once.” Probie snapped his fingers. “On one of those unnamed townie roads.”

“Think you can find it on a map?” Hunter asked.

“I . . .” Probie’s jaw took on a determined edge. “Yeah. I think I can pull it up on my phone.”

As soon as Probie Google-mapped that shit, Hunter picked up his walkie-talkie. “Golf Hotel Oscar Sierra Tango. Golf Hotel Oscar Sierra Tango. Do you copy?”

“Ghost?” I said.

“My call sign, just like you thought I was. Knew you were a smart one.” He got back on the walkie-talkie. “We have a location for the hostage. Do you read me?”

I checked my weapon, listening to the affirmative squawk-back on his handheld.

“Sending coordinates now.”

The location confirmed, Boomer, Probie, and I hustled into Hunter’s black SUV after him.

“It’s already night. She’s been missing all day.” I watched the darkness zoom past as Hunter went pedal to the metal.

“Not much longer, bro. Keep it tight.” Boomer reached over the back of the seat to squeeze my shoulder.

It took a solid thirty-five minutes to reach the outskirts of Dirk’s land, and by the time we got there, the back road in the middle of nowhere was packed with fire trucks, ambulances, police cruisers and a SWAT van.

We ditched the SUV as Sipowicz went nose-to-nose with Hunter. “What the fuck is Brodie Steele doing here?” The chief’s voice shook like he was about to lose his temper. “And the others? They’re goddamn
innocent bystanders
, Sexton.”

“They’re with me, and I’m going to keep them in check. Thought it was the least we could do seeing as we’re the reason Dirk got Kingston in the first place.”

Before stalking off, Sipowicz spat, “See to it they say out of sight and the hell out of the way.”

“You heard the man. I got you on the scene so you can be here when we find her, but now we sit the fuck tight,” Hunter ordered.

I started forward, thinking maybe I’d put my gun to good use on Hunter’s head when Boomer grabbed me around the middle.

Hunter stuck his finger in my face. “Cool it. My ass is already grass for involving you. Do anything stupid and you might get Ashe shot or worse.”

His words had the affect of icy water dousing me. I nodded, and Boomer backed off. Hunter went to huddle with the SWAT team, and when he returned he gripped me by the back of my neck.

“They’re going in.”

We watched the cops move out, soundless on the forest floor and nearly invisible in their black gear. My heart raced full throttle in my chest, nearly beating out of my skin. We had no visual of the cabin through the thick trees.

Less than a minute later, another van burst open. Four police dogs strained at the ends of their leashes as they jumped outside. Their loud barks ricocheted around us, the sound only drowned out when not one but two motherfucking helicopters came into visual range. Their high-beam searchlights cut through the woods. Their rotor blades a hundred times louder than any Harley.