No way in hell was he getting out of this alive if the speculations about Garcia knowing his identity were true. He'd be walking into a death trap.
Brad, the treasurer of Lagsturns MC, pocketed his phone. "True Blues MC confirmed the rumor. Garcia has the east side gangbangers doing his dirty work, and says they've got information on you. They're feeding the fish, saying you're a badge."
He schooled his reaction. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"That's what I'd like to know." Brad widened his stance and looked him in the eyes. "No one throws that kind of shit around, and the gangbangers are standing by their word."
Raul attacked, shoving Brad against the side of the building and pinning him with his body, his knife at Brad's throat. "Are you questioning my loyalty,
hombre
?"
Brad lifted his chin and gritted his teeth, not moving. "No, Prez."
The blade of the knife bit into the sensitive skin at Brad's neck. Raul never let up on the pressure. "Sounds like you're speaking for the club."
Brad's Adam's apple moved under the knife, creating a deeper cut on his skin. Blood ran thin down his neck. Raul would kill him without looking back, but he needed to know how many from his own club had doubts. Somewhere down the line, he'd fucked up and his cover was in jeopardy.
"There's been talk since you took chair at the table," Brad said. "Only in passing. We're behind you, Prez."
Sweat rolled off Brad's face. Raul brought the knife up and sliced a one-inch, thin line, horizontally under Brad's nose. The cut would bleed like a stuck pig and fill Brad's mouth every time he tried to talk. He pushed off Brad's chest.
"I want names of the members." He swiped the knife off on the thigh of his jeans, and slipped it back into the sheath at his hip.
"Prez, it was bull shit talk. Nobody believes you've played us. We got your back." Brad wiped his forearm under his nose and spit. "Fuck, I'm bleeding all over the place."
Raul spared him a glance. "Be glad you're still standing and I don't finish what I started, one piece at a time until you bleed out. I hear any of this bull shit, and you'll be the first one who pays for the club's talk."
Brad nodded and stopped mid action to swipe at his neck. "You've been a Lagsturns longer than eighty percent of the brothers. Fucking no way does anyone believe the talk. It's left over shit from when you took over the chair and removed…the last president."
Speaking of an ex-brother, stripped of his colors, went against club rules. No names, no talk, no thinking about past members belonged within the boundaries of the Lagsturns. Doing so meant your allegiance remained with the fallen and not with the men who had your back and would kill for you.
Butch jogged around the corner and approached Raul, his bandana wet with sweat and his face red above his beard from the exertion of coming from his post five hundred feet away. "We're cleared. Big Joe, me, Duck, Brad will go in with you."
"Yeah." He wanted to wipe his own sweat from his face, but ignored the desire to take his frustrations out in a weak action and show his worries. "In and out. Let's get this done."
Butch motioned with his chin at Brad, who stood to the side, swiping blood off his face with his arm. "Something else going down?"
"Not anything that concerns the club." Raul walked over, threw his leg over his Harley, and started the engine. "Head back and grab your ride. We're not going to walk in the damn heat and I want to get this meeting over with and get back to the club."
He tore out from behind the building and left his men to follow orders. He'd called Crystal when he'd made excuses to the others about taking a piss behind the building. He had everything set up and under control. All he had to do was tell the guys after the meeting that he needed a few days alone with Crystal to make her his bitch, and he'd buy some time to make sure Crystal was safe before heading into the job.
Crystal would believe he went nomad, relax, and he could dig for more information to bring down Garcia and temporary stop the delivery of heroin and women. If everything went according to his plan, he could close an eight-year case next week when he exchanged deliveries with Garcia.
First, he had to convince Garcia they were solid on the delivery and squelch any rumors.
If he succeeded, it'd be a career move that would see him to retiring. If he was lucky
and
made it out alive, he could settle down within the Lagsturns, bring them around, and keep Crystal by his side. If not…well, he'd be dead.
He pulled up to the front door of the Armory and shut off the engine as he kicked the stand down. All he had to do was stay alive for one more week, and no one would ever know his true occupation.
At the door, he glanced behind him, took in his men headed his way, and knocked twice on the door. He patted his pocket, reassured that the phone he used to call Crystal was now broken into a hundred pieces and dumped into the trunk of an old abandoned car behind the Armory.
The door swung inward and one large man, at least fifty pounds heavier than Raul and six inches taller, dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt despite the heat, stepped out and motioned for Raul to move toward the side of the building. Raul strolled over and placed his palms flat on the metal siding. He clamped his teeth, pushing the pain of burning his hands against the metal, and concentrated on the man's hands roaming the inside of his legs, his boots, his back.
He knew the drill. He'd been here twice before.
The two pistols, his knife, and the extra clip from his back pocket were now in possession of Garcia's guard. Raul dropped his hands to his side, curling his fingers and regretting it instantly when the skin heated even more.
The only thing the guard left him was the twelve-inch chain hooked to his belt and connected to his leather wallet. Unlike the others, he had a slit in his belt that if he pulled hard enough, the chain would come free and he could use it to defend himself if need be.
He motioned with his chin for his men to line up and be cleared for entrance. The sooner they got inside the building, the better. He strolled a few feet away under the disguise of wiping sweat from his brow, and took in the security cameras.
Abandoned my ass.
Garcia used the Armory for more than meetings. It was a well-guarded building and afforded the Mafia lord time to know when the enemy was coming.
"Go." The guard stood back and let his men enter.
Raul brought up the back, nodding at the guard and going through the doorway. Then steps inside, the coolness from the dark settled over his skin and created a flash of a chill that quickly went away and left his body five degrees cooler.
The guard led them toward the left, down a hall, and knocked at the third door on the right. One after another, they filed into the room. On Raul's turn, the guard slapped his hand on Raul's chest holding him back.
"Sanchez of Allegra villa?" The man's eyebrow lifted. "
Me familia
is there."
He grinned. "
Si,
amigo
."
The man's shoulders relaxed and he moved back. Raul squeezed into the room and waited. He'd lied.
He wasn't related to the Sanchez's of the small Mexican town. He was American born, but for Garcia's sake, he was one of their people who came from a neighboring village, his people deceased and untraceable. The real Raul Sanchez, buried in the desert, a used up coke addict who'd died from his habit at the perfect time, letting Raul resurrect himself into a man with no background.
Raul had covered his tracks. He couldn't take the chance of anyone finding holes in his story, because Garcia's arms were long, and he had the penal system and contacts within the government to use whenever he snapped his fingers.
Two people outside the bureau knew his identity, and they owed Raul their lives. Rain and Tori Brookshire. He preferred to put his trust into others on the wrong side of the law to further himself within the club, while staying in his role as the president of Lagsturns. He looked at the closed door. Even right now, Crystal was safe within the arms of a woman married to the Mafia, and he hoped to get back to her.
"How long are we going to wait?" Duck swept his long stringy hair, ratted from the wind over his shoulder. "Place freaks me out."
"Afraid of ghosts?" Big Joe chuckled. His beer gut trembled with the sound.
"Fuck off," Duck said.
"Calm, boys." Raul walked across the room and leaned against the wall. "We'll stay until business is done."
At the announcement, the door swung open, and Guillermo Garcia strolled in as if he hadn't watched their whole movement the last hour while the Lagsturns waited outside. The six-foot black haired man with perfectly arched brows smiled at Raul. Raul remained where he was leaning on the wall, and lifted his chin. The Anglo shaped nose always looked out of place on Garcia's brown face.
"Sanchez." Garcia held his hand out, and Raul reluctantly shook. "Glad you could make it."
"Wouldn't miss it," Raul said, sniffing rudely and taking up his lax position again. "Bitch of a ride in this heat."
"A hundred and seven degrees the last time I looked." Garcia knocked his knuckles on the desk. "I'll make this quick, and you and your men can go back to the air conditioned comforts you are accustomed to."
"I'd appreciate it," Raul said. "We've lined up two semis for the job. We'll escort the shipment through Cali and stop at the border. From there, your team will take over and see everything through Arizona."
Garcia's gaze narrowed. "That wasn't the agreement."
The smooth attitude gone, Garcia's hands stilled. The 40-caliber pistol tucked into Garcia's waistband a reminder to Raul who was in charge. Raul, naked without any way to defend himself except the chain latched to his belt and his men standing beside him, could only go so far against a bullet.
"Once we step over the state line into Arizona we have no backing, no charter to see to our safety. I have two men who I need on that ride that have warrants in Arizona and with all of us riding together, we'll have too much attention on us to promise nothing will happen to bring them home safe to their families. I have us covered through California. Nobody will touch us," Raul said.
"I will,
amigo
," Garcia whispered. "I can't let you leave this room alive if you don't follow through with our agreement. You and your men know too much, and have disappointed me. If I would've known you were going to go back on your word, well…"
He would've shot Raul and every Lagsturns on the property. Raul looked away and gazed at each of his men. They'd talked at the table and called club majority. None of them wanted to flip off the odds of making it safely through Arizona. Skepticism and worry met his gaze. He ignored his brothers' silent questions and turned to Garcia.
"We'll take the delivery through Arizona, and—"
"Prez." Duck stepped up beside him. "They'll slam me in prison for arson and murder. I've got an old lady, two kids."
"Shut up," Raul snapped. "We ride."
Garcia laughed, but the sound came out forced and condescending. "It's good to see you have control of your men."
"Thursday?" Raul ignored the tension in his men and pushed off the wall.
"I'll get word of the time and location to you." Garcia sat down on the top of the desk. "Do I understand that you'll have the girl I want in your possession upon our meet?"
His toes curled and he nodded. "That was the agreement, wasn't it? Thirty percent of the profits on the blow, twenty percent on the women we deliver, and you get my bitch."
"Excellent, my friend. You came through in good time too. I look forward to getting to know her better." Garcia inhaled deeply. "Now, I have one concern."
A lengthy pause came to the conversation. Raul gave him a few seconds and said, "What would that be?"
"There's a rumor you're a doubler," Garcia said.
"Heard the rumor myself." He walked over to Brad, grabbed his nose, yanking his head up, and let the fresh cut bleed, showing the cut along Brad's neck. "Here's where I heard the story."
Guillermo's mouth twitched. "Your handy work?"
Raul shrugged. "A past time. I'll deal with him when we—"
The gun blast echoed in the room. Raul's gaze went to Garcia and he heard the thud to the right of him of a body hitting the floor. There was no reason to look. He knew what happened, and he knew he had to pass the test.
"Holy fuck," Big Joe mumbled.
Raul ignored his men's shock. His heart pounded and he forced the air into his chest through his nose, because if he opened his mouth, his vulnerability would show. An eight-year member of the Lagsturns saw death every week. A fallen brother came with the lifestyle. The agent inside of him never could stand back and watch someone murdered in cold blood, and it took everything out of him to tap down his reaction.
This was how he took care of business. Garcia knew the rules. Raul played by them.
"Gracious,"
Raul said, dipping his chin. "You've saved me the work of taking him to ground."
Garcia remained holding the pistol. "Do you need an escort out of town, so your men don't decide to off their president to save their own asses?"
Raul looked toward his men. "Speak now? Do I have someone who will stab me in the back?"
Duck shook his head. "No."
"No," Big Joe said.
Butch grinned. Raul cocked his head to the other side. The sick fuck enjoyed the shooting. "Butch?"
"No, Prez. I have your back." Butch's mouth barely moved as he studied their fallen member.
Raul turned back to Garcia. "The Lagsturns wait for you."
Together, four members of the Lagsturns walked out of the room, leaving one of their own behind. Without a word, Raul was the first to start his motorcycle, the first to leave the Armory, and the first to lead them out of town single file. Free from the dust flying in his wake, he let the dry hot air flow over him, flicking his sweat soaked hair.
In one hour, he'd pull over and explain how he'd be with Crystal until Thursday. His decision to distance himself from the club would add speculation to the rumors, but he had to get Crystal away somewhere safe.