You're Not Broken (32 page)

Chapter Twenty
Rowan

              This was all wrong.

              All wrong.

              I looked around at the small army that was riding with us. What the hell was Raze thinking?

              Riding out to Low Pointe, I had thought that everyone would be at the club, ready to meet me. We would then make the call to Manuelo to organize the drop. For most drops, it would be Raze, me, and then three other riders for pick up. We needed two to ride ahead to sweep the space and then one spare member to either watch our backs or to help with recon.

              But as soon as I had pulled into Low Pointe, I had been met with Raze and nearly a dozen other riders, all on their bikes.

              I had only recognized two or three faces. The rest of the riders were complete strangers. And that was shocking since all the riders of Black Wings came from Low Pointe. And I had grown up in Low Pointe all my life. I knew every boy and man who could or would ever be in the Black Wings. And yet, I hardly knew any of these riders that stood behind Raze.

              “What is this?” I demanded as I took off my helmet.

              Raze took his time in looking me over. “Glad the bright lights of Hollywood hasn’t made you forget how to ride,” he said in a voice that dripped with disdain. Clearly he saw me as some kind of pussy that had turned soft. I could care less what he thought. Pussy or not, it was apparent I was still his best option for drops.

              “What is this?” I asked again, looking around the strange members. The two or three faces I did recognize, the men turned their heads, as if ashamed to meet my eyes.

              Raze turned over his shoulders. “Oh them? It’s been awhile hasn’t it, Steel? Haven’t met the new members,” he said. He turned back towards me and grinned.

              I narrowed my eyes. “Where did they come from?”

              These riders not only looked unfamiliar but they looked extremely out of place. They had a gauntness about them that spoke of possible drug use. Their eyes moved shiftily and they had a edgy look in their faces that told me that they had each killed a man or two before.

              “Riders from all over are all clamoring to get into Black Wings these days,” Raze bragged breezily. “I even have riders from Carlitos’ in here.”

              My eyes widened before I felt a dark rage plume within me. “You let riders from Carlitos’ gang into the Black Wings?” I asked lowly, my voice tight with my anger.

              Carlitos was a known gang and club several miles north of Low Pointe. They were a ruthless club that all abused drugs and woman. They were constantly in turf wars and had several members in prison for murder, including their last president.

              Letting in riders like that into Black Wings and therefore Low Pointe was like letting in a horde of locusts into your farm. They would only bring more trouble and danger. As if the town wasn’t already in harm’s way with Raze running the streets with his wild will.

              Raze only smiled coldly, refusing to answer my question. “At least your taste in bikes hasn’t gotten awful,” he said, looking at my bike. It was the only one I had kept—an old Triumph I had customized slowly over several years. “Let’s go then. Manuelo’s waiting.”

              “What?” I said. “I thought you needed me to organize the drop.”

              “I need you to ease that twitchy bastard,” Raze said, his gravelly voice growing impatient. “I was able to get him to agree to a drop but I’m sure he agreed only because he knew you’d be there. I can’t lose this one on account of his goddamn paranoia. So you’re coming with us.”

              No. This was all wrong. There were warning flags all over this mess. Didn’t Raze see that? But looking at the club president’s dark eyes, I could tell he had gone so far off the rails, he could see nothing beyond profit. After having his true nature revealed, he had lost all need for pretense and had let his greed and cruelty grow with abandon. And with every passing month, he had lost all semblance of control and judgment that he had had before—qualities every club president needed.

              Raze started his bike and the other members followed suit. As Raze skidded out, the other bikes followed. I threw on my helmet and started my bike as well. There was no saving this deal. Something was wrong. But there were at least couple old members of Black Wings that I wanted to make sure did not get butchered in what was sure to be an ambush.

***

              The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge as we rode into the desert. I couldn’t yet pinpoint what it was but there was something definitely off. Even though I was surrounded by riders, I felt conspicuous and vulnerable. I felt like everyone could see us coming from a mile away.

              And they could. With this many riders, how could you not see the dozen headlights burning across the black desert ground?

              I could see that Raze had organized the drop in our usual spot. It was funny. Raze had called Manuelo paranoid and twitchy and yet who was the one coming with a dozen men, undoubtedly armed to the teeth, for a simple drop?

              Was Raze planning on taking out Manuelo this drop? If he was, that would explode the entire drug ring. Wars would happen on an almost daily basis. So many innocent people would be killed until a new order was established. Everyone would suffer.

              Except Raze.

              I could tell the sociopath would enjoy such chaos. He would take advantage of it and make sure to use the turmoil to push himself up even higher.

              We slowed down and came to a stop as we neared a truck. It was Manuelo’s truck. The truck headlights blinked twice.

              We killed our lights. I got off my bike and so did Raze. Together we walked forward till we were only a dozen feet away from the truck. Raze clamped a large hand on my shoulder. “Go on, Steel,” he said. “Talk to him.”

              I could feel the danger in my bones.

              With no moon in the sky, the truck was covered in darkness. All I saw were the inky figures inside, unmoving.

              Behind me, I could hear Raze ordering his men to bring the payment. Two black duffle bags filled with money were brought forth. Raze dropped them at his feet so they were in clear sight.

              Suddenly, through the darkness of the truck, I saw a glint of something shiny. It looked like it was on someone’s wrist. I caught it for only half a second. If I had blinked, I would’ve missed it. But suddenly, I knew why everything had felt off. I nearly chuckled in relief. I was suddenly glad I had never had that talk about proper camo with Agent Todd.

              I raised my hands and shouted, “Manuelo! It’s me, Rowan! I am unarmed!”

              Raze grabbed at the back of my jacket. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed at me.

              I turned around and gave him a steely look. “He’s clearly paranoid. Don’t you feel it?” I lied, playing on Raze’s own paranoia. “He needs some reassurance before we have a firefight. I need to talk to him.”

              I could see Raze’s dark eyes shifting around. He was definitely paranoid and he definitely felt something in the air. But he was too power hungry to sense the real danger that was present.

              “Fine,” he said, letting go of my jacket. “But make it quick.”

              Making as direct an eye contact as I could with the dark truck, I walked forward, my arms held high, hoping that no one would get trigger happy.

              Reaching the passenger door, the seat that Manuelo usually sat in, I wasn’t surprised to see the inside of the truck to be nearly as dark as it was outside. I could barely see the figures inside. Everyone was wearing dark clothes with black masks covering more than half their faces.

              “I know you’re the FBI,” I murmured quietly, keeping my back turned to Raze.

              There was a shift of surprise in the truck. I could see the driver’s eyes widen a little at being caught.

              “How did you know?” the passenger asked, his dark hair pulled low over his eyes, making his face nearly obscure.

              I shook my head slightly and huffed a laugh. “You guys need to stop being so proud of your damn watches,” I said. The agents in the truck all look at each other and then at their own gleaming wrists. I could see their slight embarrassed shame over their blindingly stupid mistake.

              “It doesn’t matter,” I said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

              “We’ve been following Franklin Jonas and his activity for years now. We have everything we need for a bust but after hearing about the new members he’d recently initiated, we thought to wait till we could get all of them at once,” the agent in the passenger seat said.

Franklin Jonas. The name Raze had before joining the Black Wings.

              “Who are you?” the driver asked.

              “Rowan Matthews,” I answered. “I’m working with Agent Harrison and Todd in LA on a different case.”

              I could hear the quiet tappings of a laptop from the backseat. Someone was clearly verifying my words.

              “What do you need me to do?” I asked, knowing there wasn’t much time left. If I talked for any longer, Raze would get suspicious.

              The agent in the passenger seat looked at me, clearly unsure if I could be trusted. Someone from the backseat suddenly piped up, “He’s clear.”

              Satisfied, the agent in the passenger seat noticeably relaxed. “We want all of them but we want Jonas the most. So we don’t want him spooked.”

              I nodded. “Got back up?” I asked. The agent nodded then jerked his head back. In the inkiness of the night, it was hard to see it but there men surrounding the truck in a wide perimeter. We were completely covered. “Get ready then,” I said, knowing what to do.

              I moved away from the window and slapped the hood of the car twice, something I had always done before with Manuelo. It meant everything was clear. I saw Raze’s shoulders lower a little in satisfaction at the sound.

              As I walked back to Raze, I wondered where Manuelo was. Probably in prison. He must’ve been caught for the FBI to set up this sting.

              “Drop’s in the back. They’re ready for you to check it,” I said calmly to Raze. Turning to the two men nearest, I said, “Bring the payment to the driver. Don’t talk to them.” I used a firm voice to make sure they knew to follow orders.

              Turning to Raze, I said, “Bring the men who’ll be carrying the drop back. It’s a
lot
.”

              Raze grinned at my emphasis. “Goddamn right it is,” he said, his eyes glinting with greed. He turned around and barked some orders. Quickly the men were divided up and sent towards the truck. I followed behind the last man. It looked like I was maintaining order of the men, just like I used to, but really, I was just making sure no one ran.

              My entire body felt as if it was strung as tight as a piano wire. This was a massive sting. Raze had become a huge fixture within the black market and taking him down would be a massive coup.

              I hoped it would work.

              I watched as Raze approached the back of the truck to check the quality of the drugs. The two men I had appointed approached the driver’s side with the duffle bags of money.

              And then it all happened at once.

              A flash bang grenade went off. Smoke obscured our vision. I immediately threw myself on the ground, not wanting to be struck by a stray bullet. But through the foggy haze, my ears still ringing, I could see men scattering and yelling as FBI agents swarmed the space, taking down men left and right.