Devil May Care (Four Horsemen MC Book 4) (12 page)

Either way, he wouldn’t be cooperating. “No, thanks.”

Warner shrugged. “Suit yourself.” The agent opened the file, before he twisted the cap off his beverage. “Let’s get started. State your name for the record.”

He hesitated a moment. While he might not be under arrest, Captain knew the agent was itchin’ to find an excuse to put him away. But if he called a lawyer right away, he’d look guilty as fuck and he wouldn’t get a chance to see what kind of evidence they had against the Raptors or the Horsemen.  For now, he decided to play along, and see where this conversation was headed.

“Colin Cooper.”

“And your address?”

“I’m in apartment 1A at Brimstone Arms on Dante Ave.” Since the divorce, he’d downsized his life. He’d sold the house and moved into a two bedroom apartment, so he had a room for Lex as well as himself.  As president, he didn’t have time for home repair and lawn maintenance, anyway. Fitting sleeping and eating into his schedule was difficult enough. 

“Thanks for verifying your identity.” The agent stared at a page, not meeting his eyes. “And your alias is Captain, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a road name. Not an alias,” he corrected. Like he went around using fake IDs and robbin’ banks.  “But, that’s what I go by.”

The agent flipped a page. “And where were you born?”

“Corpus Christi, Texas. Actually right outside of it, in a town called Rockport.”

He’d grown up on Aransas Bay in a sleepy seaside town. The most exciting thing in Rockport was the hummingbird festival every fall. The little birds stopped in the town to refuel on their migration down south for the winter. It mostly consisted of bird watching and stuffing your face with carnival food. Not a bad way to spend a weekend. Hmm, maybe he’d take Eddie there for the festival. Could be a good getaway.

“According to your employment records, you worked on fishing boats as a teenager, right?”

“Yes, for the Aransas Bay Company,” he said. He kept his answers short and to the point, not giving any more information than he’d been asked for.

He used to work on daytime cruises. Rich oil men paid big bucks to go on fishing excursions in the ocean. They tipped really well, and he hadn’t minded the work. Basically, he navigated the boat, baited some hooks, and snuck a beer now and then. It had been an easy gig. He spent his days working on his tan and watching people fish.

 That’s how he’d earned the name, Captain. Goat had given it to him when he first joined the club. Goat and Sailor appreciated a fellow seafarer in the mix.  

“Why the change to career criminal?” Warner asked. “Seems to me you could have made a good living on the water.”

He snorted. “Now, I’m hardly a career criminal. I’ve only done eighteen months for assault once.”

The agent wasn’t playing. “We both know you run a criminal organization.”

He managed to keep his temper in check.  Law enforcement usually lumped all motorcycle clubs into the outlaw category. The way he saw it, there were all dickheads who preyed on people, like the Raptors, and then there were clubs like the Horsemen who contributed something to society…namely?  Taking out the trash.

“The club used to be into some bad shit. That’s been documented, but now we’re small business owners and motorcycle fanatics.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you guys are real pillars of the community,” he said, flipping a page in the file folder. “What’s your beef with the Raptors?”

Shit.

 
It was time to call the law firm. “You know, this has been fun and all, but it’s time to call my lawyer.”

“Why?” he asked. “You aren’t under arrest. We’re just havin’ a friendly conversation. Unless you got something to hide?”

He gave Warner a shit-eating grin. “Just being cautious.”

“Fine. Make the phone call.” He tossed the folder aside and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, I’ve had the chance to look at the Raptor’s rap sheets. They seem like bad guys. Sure, the brothers in your club have some assault convictions and such, but nothing like these assholes.  They’ve got drug, assault, stalking, and rape charges. Even a couple suspected murders. You know want to know what I think?”

“Not really,” Captain said, slumping in his chair.

“I think you busted their prostitution ring. You freed the girls and sent them home with all the cash they could carry. Then, you fucked up their equipment, and shut them down. The way I see it? You were doin’ a public service.”

He met the agent’s gaze and didn’t take the bait. “Is this the part where we make friends?” Captain knew just about every police tactic in the book.

Warner ignored him.  “But the problem is, we don’t have any evidence of what kind of shit they were into. Their cameras were smashed, the feeds taken. We’d love to prosecute these bastards, but we need evidence to get a conviction. If you guys were involved, you could send it to us, let us take a look.”

That was some bullshit right there. No jury would believe another set of bikers, who also happened to be convicted felons. Particularly, when they’d been withholding evidence they could have tampered with.  Warner probably wanted to convict the Horsemen for theft and then the Raptors for prostitution.
Win. Win.

“What an interesting theory,” he said with wide eyes. “I don’t feel like answerin’ anymore questions and I’ve gotta make a phone call now.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, walking to the door. “But if you don’t work with me, I can’t help you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re real anxious to help me out.”

“Oh, I’m a giver.” The agent leaned against the door frame. “By the way, I heard you have a big biker convention here in the next few days. It’d be a shame to put a damper on the fun.  We’d have to set up some checkpoints, just to make sure you boys were drivin’ safe.”

Oh fuck.

The agent continued on. “Then we’d have to check out at everyone’s identification, see if anyone has any outstanding warrants.”

As threats go, it was a good one.

For the moment, Captain followed rule one and shut his fucking mouth.

Chapter Nine

 “You’re Captain, correct? President of the Four Horsemen?”

Captain glanced up to see a woman in a black and white pinstriped suit walk into the interview room. She had a folder in her grasp, a scowl on her pretty face, and carried a slim leather briefcase. She had an exaggerated hourglass figure that reminded him of Elizabeth. But this woman had larger breasts, and a sleeker look. She had milky skin and poker-straight, short black hair, which fell to her chin. On her snub nose, she wore a pair of black-framed glasses.

 “Yeah, I’m Captain,” he said.

She nodded stiffly and click-clacked over to him on her high heels. “I’m Jane Hunter, your new lawyer. I just got in.” Sitting down with a sigh, she opened her briefcase. “Dallas is a long way from Hell.”

He knew it would be a bit of a haul.  The FBI agent had left him alone for the past three hours while she traveled here, but he knew the video camera on the wall still flashed red. He was still being filmed, so he’d simply sat at the table and read a newspaper he’d found in the wastebasket. He didn’t call anyone from the club and sure as shit didn’t say anything incriminating.

“What happened to my old lawyer?” he asked.

Jeff Reynolds had managed to keep his ass out of jail, but most of the club had gone inside. Of course, they’d been guilty as fuck and the evidence had been overwhelming.  For the first time, he’d been grateful for his prospect status and the fact he didn’t know that much about the club’s dealings. Reynolds had worked that angle and the grand jury had been lenient. They hadn’t charged him with a damn thing.

“He retired and a senior partner assigned the case to me, since I have a lot of experience with federal courts. I’m an excellent defense attorney and I’ve never lost a case.” She’d said it matter-of-factly, it hadn’t been a boast.

He stared at her. She was so…
young
. She looked like she could be a friend of Lex’s. He didn’t know how he could put his life, his trust, in her. “How can you have
any
experience? You’re like what…twenty-five?”

“Thirty-two, actually.” She shrugged. “I have good genes. But to address your question, I was second chair on several federal trials as an assistant district attorney, before I started taking my own cases three years ago. And I observed three dozen or so in law school as a project. Altogether, I have eight years of experience.” She pushed her glasses further up her nose.  “Do you have any other objections to me representing you?”

A high-powered law firm had hired her, and she seemed very qualified. Fine by him.  Besides, sitting in an interrogation room wasn’t the best place to shop for another attorney. “I guess not. If you’re as good as you say you are.” 

 “I am. Now, that we’ve established my role, I need to know something, and please speak freely. I made them shut down the microphones and video cameras.”

He glanced at the wall, sure enough the red light had gone off.

“Are you an idiot?” she asked.

He blinked, his mouth falling open. “What the fuck did you say to me?” No one had talked to him like that since he’d been a prospect.

“You heard me.” Then she paused, her brow creasing. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I being rude?”

He stiffened. “You don’t know?”

“No,” she admitted, fiddling with the watch around her wrist. “Disclosure. I have Asperger’s. When I’m being impolite, I don’t actually mean to be.  Please tell me and I’ll correct my behavior.” Then, she continued on. “According to the voicemail you left the firm, you spoke with the FBI without legal counsel present. Mr. Cooper–“

“Call me, Captain,” he said.

“Please call me Jane, Captain. As someone who narrowly survived a RICO conviction, I’d think you’d be smarter. Never speak to law enforcement again without me present.”

“Okay, you were rude again,” he said.

“Sorry.” She tapped her fingernails against the tabletop. She seemed to be counting under her breath. Or maybe just praying for patience?

“And they aren’t investigating
us
, they’re looking at the Raptors. I shut down the Q and A session, when it got dicey.”

“That was intelligent, at least.”

He’d hit his limit. “What kind of bug crawled up your ass?”

“Let me put this into perspective for you. A RICO case is the legal equivalent of herpes.”

“Herpes?” What the fuck did an STD have to do with anything?

“Yes.  Like herpes, it spreads fast, infecting everyone.  Once they connect you to the club, you become responsible for all the crimes committed by your brothers, simply by association.”

“Yeah, I saw it in action.” He’d seen a lot of brothers hauled away to prison. The rest had gone to the morgue.

“But you didn’t have any real consequences for
your actions
back then. You skated without any charges that time. It won’t be like that now. You’re the president, so you are definitely going down, if they come after your club. Try to be less cavalier in the future.”

Shit. Nothin’ like havin’ his ass handed to him by a kid. What she’d said made a lot of sense, too, so he couldn’t even argue with her. Fuck. “Got it,” he said.

Jane continued her tirade. “And I have more bad news for you, the federal government is following the activities of all outlaw motorcycle clubs. They may not have come here initially to dig into your club, but they’d love to find some dirt on you. It would be a high profile win for the justice department. Unlike the secretive terrorist crap, RICO cases are sexy and get a lot of press.  The feds love to posture in front of the media, talk about how they’re protecting the public from dangerous criminals.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.  “And do you defend other clubs too? The ones who run drugs and traffic in women and children?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and assessed him coolly. “I only take cases I can win. I don’t judge my clients, I defend them. Having said that, juries aren’t sympathetic to drug dealers, rapists, and pimps. I personally don’t take those cases on, because they’re losers.”

Hmm.
She didn’t have a moral objection
exactly
. For her, it was about winning and about the optics.
Interesting.

“Your case, for example, has potential,” Jane informed him. “According to the report, your club allegedly released the women being held in a brothel. I can use that. Vigilante good guys stepping in to save citizens, where the government has failed them. But I’d prefer to head this off, before we even get to court.”

“Agreed.” Having the government sift through his life, searching for evidence had been stressful as hell. Captain had no desire to go through it all again.

 And he sure as shit didn’t want to put Eddie through it. The last time had nearly killed her. The FBI had made a mess of her life. They’d frozen her assets, seized her property, questioned her for hours, and grilled her relatives and friends. It’d nearly broken her.   

 “Good. If I do my job, no one from your club will be charged. Having said that, I have a few rules. No one speaks to the police without me present.  No one has contact with the Raptors. If you are currently engaged in any illegal activities, you need to stop, at least while the FBI is here.”

Luckily, he’d already taken care of the Raptor problem. “Agreed.”

“And I will need to stay in town until this blows over. Driving from Dallas every day isn’t practical.”

“The club owns a hotel, Hades. You can stay there.”  Captain grabbed his phone and fired off a text to Voodoo while he was thinking about it.

“Excellent.” She stood up and grabbed her bag. “I’ll inform the agent you have nothing further to say until he charges you with something or hands you a subpoena. Then, I’ll rip the locals a new one for using lights and sirens to bring you in for questioning.”

He sat back in his chair and blew out a long breath. She might be unconventional, but seemed to be a good attorney.
Thank the Lord.
 

They needed all the help they could get.