Dangerous Secrets (Knights of War MC Book 2) Read online

  After one more stop to pee and refill drinks, they rolled into Little Rock. Arkansas was a green state with lots of trees and forests. Where Texas was more flat and wheat fields, Arkansas was lush. If it had more opportunities, Hem wouldn’t mind living there. Might be a nice place to retire up in the Ozarks or something. He could see himself living in a cabin with a lady friend and enjoying nature.

  The taller buildings and heavy traffic let them know they were leaving the countryside and filing into the metropolis. The River Market bridge came into view as they found their exit. The Little Rock chapter of Knights of War was situated along the edge of the city, where they were close enough to town to be convenient and close enough to the woods for privacy.

  Hem and Hunter traveled through town, and fifteen minutes later arrived at a set up not dissimilar to the Dallas clubhouse. The front was an auto body shop called “Parker’s Auto,” and behind it, was the clubhouse. They didn’t have anywhere near the amount of security that Hem had orchestrated back home. No iron gates and keypads to get in; no surveillance cameras.

  They parked next to a row of Harleys and got out. Hunter stretched his arms up. “That wasn’t a bad drive.”

  “It’s not too far. Easy to do a turnaround.”

  “Yep.”

  The outside of the clubhouse was a metal building, but the inside was more comfortable with overstuffed couches and a large table with padded office chairs. He assumed that was where they held their chapel meetings since there didn’t seem to be a conference room. It wasn’t as nice or as big as his clubhouse, but Hem thought it was decent. A stainless steel, double-door refrigerator stood in the corner next to a coat rack.

  The club president met them at the door. “Welcome, fellas.” Corky was a little younger than Paul and had headed up the Little Rock chapter for the last two years. The men shook hands and clapped each other on the back. “Have a seat. Make yourselves at home.” He pointed toward the refrigerator. “Can I get y’all a drink, soda?”

  “I’m good,” said Hunter. He looked at Hem.

  “I’ll take a water if you have it.”

  “Sure thing, brother.” Corky went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water and gave it to Hem. He took a seat on the brown corduroy chair across from them. “So, what brings y’all out here to the Rock?”

  “This is an informal meeting, Cork. We’re looking at some investment property out this way and thought it would be convenient to stop in see how you guys are doing here.”

  “I was actually glad to get your call, Hunter. We have a little problem here that I was giving a few more days before I contacted Paul.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, one of our men went down to Mexico about two weeks ago.” Corky fiddled with the label on his beer. “He hasn’t come back.”

  Hem sat forward on the couch. “How long was he supposed to be gone?”

  “Four days,” Corky said. “It’s been twelve.”

  “Did he go alone?” Hunter sat back and crossed one leg over his knee. The rings on his fingers gleamed under the light from the ceiling fan just above them.

  “Yeah. It was recreational, not business-related.”

  “And nobody’s heard from him?” Hunter asked

  “Nope.”

  “Does he have family, a girlfriend?”

  “Nope.”

  “And this is out of the ordinary for him? No problems brewing that might turn him into a deserter?” Hunter inquired.

  “Not that I know of. He was one of the quieter ones. Sometimes those types fly under the radar, though, you know?”

  “Yeah. For sure. You guys doing any deals down there?”

  Corky shook his head. “You know we’re not authorized to deal south of the border. That’s y’all’s territory.”

  “Maybe he’s mixed up in some unauthorized shit,” Hem added and took a swig of his water before twisting the plastic cap back on the bottle. The condensation dripped off the bottle and onto his jean-clad thigh.

  Hem’s curiosity was piqued. Maybe the missing dude was involved in the trafficking. Maybe he disappeared on purpose to pursue another career avenue. If he had, Hem would kill him. There was a bylaw on the books prohibiting it, but fuck that. Anybody who could do that shit to another person, particularly a woman or child, didn’t deserve to breathe. And a slow and ugly death was called for. There was always a hunting knife attached to his belt, but the gun strapped to his ankle felt more present at the moment. Which would he use? The knife would be more satisfying, but the gun would be more efficient. People survived stab wounds. A bullet to the dome was pretty final.

  He knew that Hunter also had a gun, but it was hanging off his belt. Most of their members had concealed carry licenses, and Arkansas had reciprocity, so they were all good. In Texas, open carry was legal, but you had to be an idiot to go around with an exposed firearm. If shit got real, the fucker with the exposed gun would be the first one to get popped by the bad guys. Basic common sense. And too many people lacked that nowadays.

  Hem tamped down the homicidal thoughts. It was counter-productive. He was getting ahead of himself, but this whole situation really made his blood boil. Part of that was his culture and the unfairness his people had suffered in the past. He personally hadn’t been affected by it, he was too young. But he knew people growing up who had been. Human beings were not a commodity to be bought and sold or traded for whatever. And especially not the most vulnerable ones. Women and children.

  He knew Hunter felt the same way. He’d part the sea to protect Holly. He’d killed her dad to prove it. And he’d do it again in a heartbeat. Hem had no doubts about that.

  Hem also wondered how this debacle would affect their relationship with the cartel. If Mescalito was involved in trafficking, Hem would have a coming to Jesus talk with Paul. Trafficking drugs was one thing, but selling human beings was quite another. There would be no quarter granted for that bullshit. He tuned back into the conversation between Corky and Hunter.

  “We’re doing a run down to El Paso soon. I can check in with our contacts down there and see if they’ve heard any chatter about your missing guy.”

  “I’d appreciate that, brother.”

  “What part of Mexico was he visiting, do you know?” Hem asked.

  “He was headed to Sonora, but as far as I know, he never made it past Juarez.”

  Hunter nodded. “We don’t generally venture that deep across the border, but we know people down there.”

  “Well, if we aren’t doing any runs, we could safely dip into Mexico,” Hem added.

  “We’ll weigh the pros and cons and then decide.”

  “Fair enough.” Hem took a pull off his water bottle, wishing it was a beer.

  “The club is pretty empty. Why all the bikes outside?” Hunter asked Corky.

  “A lot of the guys leave their bikes here. It’s kind of a Jedi mind trick.” He laughed. “Makes it look like a lot of us are here when we’re really not.”

  “Clever fuckers,” Hunter said. “Nice clubhouse you got here.”

  “Thanks, man. It’s a work in progress, you know?”

  “Yeah. Well, I guess we’ll get out of here.”

  Corky stood and stuck out his hand. Hunter shook it then said, “Hey, do you got a picture of your missing guy?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure I do.”

  “Text it to me.”

  “You got it. And, thanks, y’all.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Hem said.

  “Same. Whenever you’re in Dallas, drop in.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hem

  Hem parked his bike next to the small tent that Holly had set up. He hooked his helmet onto the back. The Knights of War’s logo was posted on the front of the red canvas tarp. Holly was a great spokesmodel. It didn’t hurt their brand that she was cute and smart and could probably sell you something you already owned.

  A brown pit bull with a pink bow attached to a white collar sat at her feet
, the leash wrapped around Holly’s wrist.

  She grinned when Hem walked around the front of the tent. The first cover from Holly’s magazine was leaned up on an easel behind, and copies of the magazine were lined up on the table in front of her. Pens were held in cups on each end, and a few keychains were scattered between the magazines.

  “Who’s your friend?” Hem pulled his hair into a ponytail holder, then leaned over and rubbed the dog’s head.

  “Hem, meet Daisy.”

  “You’re a pretty girl,” Hem crooned to the dog. She licked his hand in response and rubbed her head against his jean-clad thigh. “Man, she’s adorable. How’d you end up with her here?”

  “One of the shelter volunteers was walking her around, and the dog pulled her into my tent. So, I asked if she could hang out with me.”

  “Cool. How old is she?”

  “They think she’s about three years old. She’s spayed and micro-chipped, ready for her forever home.” Holly patted the dog’s ears. “Hey, I was thinking about starting a column in the magazine to feature dogs that need homes. What do you think?”

  Hem nodded. “That’s a great idea. I’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to pitch it to the rescue folks before we leave today.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Hem looked around. “Where’s Hunter?”

  “He’s on his way. Where’s Kol?”

  “You know that lazy bastard is still asleep. He stayed up half the night watching serial killer documentaries.”

  “Really?” Holly laughed.

  “Yeah. Plato gave him a book on some murderer, and now he’s on a crime documentary bender.”

  Holly shrugged. “There are worse things to be on a bender with.”

  “True that. I’m going to walk around and check out the pooches.”

  “Okie dokie. I’ll be here with the beauty queen, Daisy.”

  There were a lot of local businesses with tents set up. Hem strolled by the fast-food tents which offered samples of burgers and burritos along with coupons to be used in their stores. Everybody was selling something these days.

  A woman in a yellow dress and white sun visor leaned forward, displaying an impressive rack. “Hey, where do you do your banking?”

  Hem stopped more to admire the strength of the buttons keeping her dress together than to hear her sales pitch for banking services.

  “I bank at Wells Fargo,” he lied. Hem didn’t trust commercial banks and kept a small amount of money in a locally based bank.

  “Well, we’re a newer bank in town, and I’m sure we can beat Wells Fargo’s prices.” She held out a pamphlet. “Check it out. I’m Mandy, and my number is on the back if I can do anything to lure you through our doors.”

  Hem raised an eyebrow and took the information from her. “Thanks. I’ll consider that.” He gave her one more look, her brunette hair hung just past her shoulders, and her lips were redder than any lipstick he’d ever seen. She reminded him a little of the high-class call girl who’d tried to sell him some pussy last year. He laughed to himself.

  When he turned to leave, he almost ran into a guy standing behind him. The dude was probably waiting for his turn to ogle the bank lady’s goodies. Hem walked around him then did a double-take. Who was he? Hem had seen him somewhere before.

  He was Hispanic and had a Great Dane on a leash. The lightbulb in Hem’s mind lit up. He was the dude from Calliope’s mug shot.

  “Pretty dog you got there,” Hem said to him.

  “Thanks. I just adopted her from that rescue over there.” The suspect pointed to a booth near the parking lot. “They have a few other Great Danes if you’re looking for one.”

  “I’ll check them out. Thanks.”

  Hem walked out of earshot and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his numbers and called Calliope.

  “Cooper.”

  “It’s Hem. Can you talk?”

  “Just a second. Let me go find that file.”

  “Okay.” He played along with her ploy.

  “All right. I’m clear. What’s up?”

  “I’m at this dog rescue charity event in town, and I’m pretty sure I just saw your suspect.”

  “Shit. Hold on. Let me check on his status.”

  Keys clacked in the background while Hem kept an eye on the dude with the dog. He was still chatting up the sexy bank woman.

  “He bailed out yesterday,” Calliope said.

  “He just adopted a dog.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He’s got a Scooby-Doo looking Great Dane on a leash right now.”

  “Are you sure he just adopted it?”

  “Yes. I asked him.”

  “Okay. Let me make some phone calls about this guy. We need to know what his fascination is with dogs.”

  “Cool. Let me know what you find out.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Hem.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Hem walked around some more and ambled his way down to the booth where the gangbanger had just adopted a dog. A bubbly woman with blonde pigtails and four dogs of various breeds at her feet greeted him.

  “Hi there. Are you looking to adopt today?”

  “I’m just looking around actually. Out of curiosity, what’s your adoption procedure like?”

  “Well, we ask you to fill out an application.” She pointed to a small stack of papers on the table. “Then we check your references and call your veterinarian, and if everything looks good, you get to improve your life with one of our pups. All of these dogs were rescued from kill shelters when they didn’t have much time left.”

  “That’s great that you guys do that. I’ll think about it. Adopting a dog is a big commitment.”

  “It absolutely is. It’s a forever commitment. We’ll be here all day,” she said. One of the dogs at her feet was a cute little Pug with big, bulging eyes. Hem wasn’t really a small dog type, though. And he wondered how she was really checking references if Carlos had just picked up a dog from her.

  His phone buzzed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, it’s Callie.”

  “What’s the word?”

  “So, I dug into his background a little more. Rubio has adopted seven dogs in the last thirteen months.”

  “What the fuck? What is he doing with these dogs?”

  “He also only adopts large dogs. Great Danes, Doberman Pinschers, Rottweilers.”

  “You thinking dogfighting?”

  “Not really. Dogfighting is almost exclusively limited to pit bulls. Great Danes aren’t good fighting dogs. They’re big teddy bears. Dobermans are good guard dogs but aren’t usually used for fighting. I’m a little baffled. I hope this bastard isn’t eating them or something wacky like that.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want me to follow him?”

  “I can’t ask you to do that officially.”

  “I’m not asking officially. But I think we both want to know what this fucker is up to besides watching illegal porn.”

  “True statement.”

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep an eye on him here for now. He’s walking around with the dog and talking to people.”

  “Okay. I could come down there.”

  “Won’t he recognize you?”

  “No. I’ve never met him. I didn’t arrest him. I was just charged with invading his privacy.”

  Hem chuckled. “What a job.”

  “Right?”

  “Come on down then. You can meet Holly.”

  “Who’s Holly?”

  “She’s Hunter’s old lady. Very cool chick. I think you’ll like her.”

  “All right. I’ll be there in about half an hour. If Rubio jets before I get there, give me a call.”

  “Will do.” Hem put his phone back into his pocket. The sound of a Harley caught his attention, and he turned to see Hunter parking his Crossbones beside Hem’s V-Rod. Hunter waved to Hem and plante
d a kiss on Holly’s cheek. Hem made his way back toward the red Knights of War tent.

  Hunter was petting Daisy and stood when Hem approached. They shook hands.

  “What’s happening, man?” Hunter asked.

  “Not much. Just strolling around, checking out the wares.”

  “Anything good?”

  “Cute dogs down at the other end. Hot bank lady in the middle.”

  Hunter laughed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “The hot women gravitate toward you.”

  Hem shrugged. “It’s a curse.”

  “Bullshit. It’s your hair.”

  Hem shook his head. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”

  “Fuck off.” Hunter punched him on the shoulder.

  Hem turned around to spy his mark. The dude with the dog was still tooling around, moving in and out of the crowd. More people had shown up since he’d called Callie. He lost sight of Carlos and craned his neck to get a better look. There were advantages to being taller than the average person.

  “What are you looking at?” Hunter asked.

  “Just some guy who adopted a cool dog.”

  Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Okay, then.”

  Hem checked his watch. Callie should be there soon. There was a coffee cart toward the other end near where Carlos was hanging out.

  “Hey, you guys want a coffee?” Hem looked back at Hunter and Holly.

  “Sure,” Holly said and reached for her purse.

  Hem put his hand up. “I got it. What do you want?”

  “I’ll have a skinny mocha.”

  “That sounds like a stripper,” Hunter said and laughed.

  “Oh, shush.”

  “What do you want, Hunt?” Hem asked.

  “Just a plain coffee. Black.”

  “Cool. Be right back.”

  Carlos was still walking around, and Hem wondered why he hadn’t left. If he had only come to get a dog, he had that. He could’ve left already.

  The coffee cart was like a mini food truck with a big purple umbrella over it. The girl working behind the stainless steel counter was a perky redhead.

  “What can I get you, sir?”