Wed to the Bad Boy (38 page)

Cullen

“
Motherfucking
piece of shit,” I swore as I looked at the stripped caliper bolt.  Whoever worked on this piece of shit car before me ruined it.  And I was sick and fucking tired of working to get it off, I was going to have to replace the entire fucking thing.

So much for saving Mrs.  Sullivan some money.  Now I was going to have to call her and listen to her bitch, but what did she expect for going to some big company to do her brakes last time? All because they were on sale.  I threw my wrench on the ground and cursed out loud, my ire rising as I heard a chuckle coming from under the car in the bay next to me.

Fucking Mick.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, kicking his crawler, not hard, not even enough to be dangerous.  I wasn’t a fucking idiot.  I knew this shit was mostly safe, but I wasn’t going to risk him dropping the fucking muffler he was working on directly on his head.

“Isn’t it obvious, Cullen? You’re in looooooove,” Mick taunted me.  “And it’s making you act like a jealous idiot.”

“This has nothing to do with—”

“Oh, yes it does.  We’ve dealt with shit like stripped caliper bolts dozens of times this week.  You’re pissed she’s over there with that motherfucking mobster.” Mick shook his wrench at me, looking like a fucking idiot on his crawler, lying on the ground head popped out from under a car.

“It isn’t like it’s the Italian mafia, Mick.”

“No, it’s worse.  It’s our own people.”

“I just want to get all this shit done and over with.  Fuck up the Hounds and finish our deal with the fucking Irish, and then get back to business as usual.”

“I don’t think that is possible.  Nothing will be usual now.  Especially without him.”

Sean.  He was my brother-in-arms, and Mick was right.   It didn’t help that we had to bury another one of our own.  A prospect, but he was set to be patched in.  And he was fucking dead.

It reminded us all of why we were fighting, and now we had to escalate shit, but just as we were trying, Hound’s Breath up and fucking disappeared.  Not another fucking word about them, where they might be.  Mob claimed not to know anything, Snake swore he didn’t know shit.  Our revenge was on hold until we got wind of them.  It was like they up and left their entire territory.  Nothing.  No one else had moved into it, not yet, waiting to see if it was some kind of trap, but it wouldn’t be long before they did.

Each day that went by without a tip had me on edge.

It was all too dangerous, and I’d put Layla right in the middle of all this shit.  That was on me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.  And very little I could do to protect her.

All I had was the anger boiling inside of me and the desperation to find that son of a bitch.  Whoever the fuck killed Sean.

I can’t even see a future, not without getting vengeance.  Not even with Layla.  Not until she was safe.

Not until I got this shit taken care of.

Chapter 12

Layla

My office was quiet.  A tiny little room off the back of the club.  I liked that it was out of the way.  Never had to worry about if someone was going to come and throw a fucking grenade. 

Strike had made sure the warehouse was out of the way.  Unknown.  It was shit work, illegal in every way, but it had a kind of safety that the MC couldn’t provide.

It was easy to get used to working with a man like Liam “Strike” O’Grady; he was direct with what he wanted, he never asked me to do irrelevant things, and he was decent to me.  I wasn’t stupid enough to forget his cruelty though.  Men like him were born into a type of violence that even an MC couldn’t match.  It was deep, ingrained in them from watching their fathers do business. 

I didn’t mistake his professionalism for kindness either.  I knew what would happen if I fucked up.  Knew I wouldn’t like it, let alone live through it.  Yeah, they were high stakes, but the boss seemed to be happy so far.

“Hey, Lala.  I got you a present.” Strike was pleased by how I handled the books.  Every day, it seemed like, he was in there, asking me exactly what I was doing, and looking over the figures.  He was smart.  His aptitude in math and accounting was natural, probably from a life of laundering and embezzling, but I didn’t care.  He understood exactly what I was doing, and he could see the difference.  When I asked him why he wasn’t doing this work, he laughed and said, “with what time?”

It was true.  Even during those short half hour sessions men were always in and out of the office.  I doubted that I got him for more than ten minutes total when all was said and done.  So here he was, at our normal appointment time with a smile on his face, the devious kind of smirk that had me on edge.

“Present?” I repeated.

“Remember that thing you asked for?”

He must’ve hired someone.  I had about two weeks left with this group, and if I was going to train someone, I needed to be able to do it soon.

He kept telling me that he was looking for just the “right” candidate and that they were still doing interviews, reminding me to be patient.

He never once got irritated though, never once gave me that look he gave his men.  The one that warned them to shut up “or else”.

“I certainly do.”

“Well, I found her.  The girl for you.” He opened the door, and next to him, a small, meek looking, mouse of a woman with an upturned nose looked right back at me.

“One of the boys had a cousin in community college.  Accounting.  What do you know? It took a little bit of… motivation… but I got her on board.”

Did she actually just roll her eyes? She did! She may have looked like a mouse of a woman, but I was starting to doubt she was anything but.

“Anyway: Katie Ann, our humble savior, Layla.  Layla, this here is your new replacement.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, her voice light as she extended a hand toward me.

I gave it a strong shake, and then Strike backed out of the doorway.

“I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

“Do you know what we do here?” I asked somewhat skeptical that she actually understood what was about to happen.

“I do.  My father once worked for the family, and my cousins work for them now.”

I didn’t even ask what “worked for” meant in her case, because, like my situation, I already knew.  She’d lost her dad to the same kind of life.  Different, of course, more money.  But it was all the same. 

“Liam—I mean, Strike says you are a part of Fire and Steel?”

“Kind of.  My dad was the President a lifetime ago.  My brother was Sergeant-at-Arms.”

Was.  I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew exactly what I meant.

The reality of our similar circumstances passed between us without words.  We didn’t need them.  We both knew the consequences of a life that we didn’t ask for.

A life we could never leave.  No matter how hard we tried.

I looked down at the pile of documents on my desk.  Most of it was on paper, receipts, invoices, but some of it was scribbled notes and old POs.  It was a mess.

“Associates degree?” I asked.

“Yeah, they promised me if I took this job they’d pay for the full thing.  Got into State, just gotta get the funds.”

“Thought they took care of kids and widows?”

“Depends on the situation.”

Shit.  That didn’t sound good.

“Anyway, it’s good that you have some experience.  Training a newbie is hard as hell.  You’ve done bookkeeping before?”

“My uncle has a butcher shop.  I work there on the weekends for him, balancing the books and double checking everything he’s done.”

“Good.  Good,” I said, sifting through everything.

“I’m going through and making sure that each of the invoices match the amount in the computer.  I ensure that checks are checks and cash is cash.  Anything that can be altered easily, I look to exploit it.  Things made out to cash, invoices that are the original copy, not the carbon copy.  That’s how we hide some of the money, but other amounts I put in the loss column.  It makes it easy, being a local produce distributor and all.  ”

“Like, look at this,” I pulled out a receipt and the losses log.  “This truck load of cabbage was ten thousand dollars, but only half full.  So when they got it from the national distributor, in this case, a shell company that his father owns with his uncle.  They looked through for spoilage.  That ‘missing half’ we called it spoilage, called that loss.”

“But it was never there.” Katie Ann was catching on.

“No, it wasn’t, not really.  But how would they know that? It’s spoiled.  Gotta throw it away.”

“And the money that you paid to them for half a truck of cabbage?”

“It was money accounted for from the drug trade paid to his father’s company in the form of goods”.  Initial distribution to us was ‘all sales final’.  Can’t get our money back, so it’s just a loss.”

“Yeah, but how do you get money into the company to give to Donal?” She was genuinely curious, and picking up the process fast.  She wanted to know how they got the money to Strike’s dad.  Donal O’Grady.

“We distributed the full shipment we received locally, half to restaurants with legitimate receipts, half of that was in cash, wholesale to the customer, cash.  Hand written receipts, self reported, not even given to the customer.  It makes it easy to doctor and makes dirty money look legit.” I shrugged.

“You do this a lot?”

“Anywhere there is a cash transaction and an area where there is a high rate of turnover or loss, there is an easy place to exploit.”

“But won’t it raise suspicion?”

“Only if it happens constantly, or it is large amounts.  Half a truck of cabbage goes bad? It happens sometimes.  Half a truck of cabbage goes bad once a week? Something fishy.  Smaller amounts are easier.  Add a hundred dollars here or there to a stack of receipts for cash, who would know?”

Looking back, I realized I’d specialized in accounting because I knew I was going to end up back with the club.

I mean, hell, it seemed inevitable.

This entire life was planned out for me, and I’d never even stood a chance in getting away from it.

And now, now I was working with the mob to hide money.

There was no coming back from this.

Cullen

I shut off my bike and dismounted, looking around the small hub of operations.  Normally I had one of the prospects ride Layla back and forth in a cage.  I didn’t trust her riding with anyone but me.  I wanted her safe.  It was all that mattered to me.

It was why I hated that she came into this nest of fucking dragons.

I was sick of waiting.  Sick of playing with the damn mob and acting like they were innocent.

I knew they were the ones keeping me from going after Sean’s killers.  There was no way they just let Hound’s Breath walk off without a trace.  They were supplying them for some time now, so why would they just let them walk away?

Deal with Snake and Bones, or not.  They knew something.

I could feel it in my gut.

I opened the door to the small shop that managed most of the local distribution.  They were a front, sure, but they also ran a company, and they ran it well.

The best front is a good business.

“You, I need to talk to you.” I opened the door into what I thought was Strike’s office, but he was here, sitting next to my woman as she bent close to him.  Talking to him.

It was enough to make my blood boil.  I turned to storm out, but a young woman was right behind me, a small tray of coffee in her hand.

“Rage, welcome.  I’ll just step out so that you can talk to your girl.” Strike stood and straightened his shirt.  Everyone else who was in the room got up and filed out.  Everyone except Layla.

“I ain’t here for her, Strike, and you know it.  I’ve been pussy footing around you for far too long.  I want answers, and I want them now.  What did you do with Hound’s Breath? Hide them?” I was intense as I stepped into the space, tired of waiting and ready to use intimidation.

“Lala, out.  Go wait with your little friend.” I pointed to the girl who was standing directly behind me. 

“Oh no, this concerns me-,” Layla started, but I raised my hand.

I didn’t want to hear it.  I needed to keep her as far out of this shit as possible.  Except she kept sticking her fucking nose in it.

“She’s right.  It does concern her, Rage.  She can stay.”

Fuck this shit.  He was asserting his dominance and I knew it.  Motherfucking asshole.  I couldn’t do anything, so I just turned around to think when I ran into another body.  A woman was standing behind me.

“You.  Out,” I said to the girl behind me.   I swear I saw that bitch roll her eyes before she turned and stomped off.  It would’ve made me chuckle under normal circumstances, but right now, I just wanted to bash some heads in.

My patience was wearing thin, and my ability to reason and logic was clouded.  I needed a plan of attack.

“You know, Cullen,” Strike said as he used my real name, “I’m pretty disappointed.”

I knew from the look in his eyes that he meant what he said.

“I don’t give a shit what you think right now, Liam.  I’m sick of this shit.  I know you know something about them, and you’re telling Bones nothing.”

“Wasn’t part of our deal.  Besides, I don’t know nothin’.” Strike shrugged.  “Ain’t my fault your boss can’t track down a bunch of street thugs.  Must be too busy sampling the merchandise.”

I balled my fists and tried to get control of my temper.  He was partially correct.  This wasn’t like me, and it was too bold.  Brash.  I had a lot of anger, but it was always justified.  I was right, and I knew it.  They knew something, no matter how small it was.

“I like you, I think you’ll be of good use to the family.  So I am not going to beat you bloody for this transgression, especially in front of your girl.  She’s a real diamond in a shit pile, by the way, but that’s another matter.  I don’t know shit about those sorry fucks.  To be honest, I’m glad of the deal with Snake.  Those assholes were trying to cheat us every chance they got.  Didn’t know who they were working with.” Strike looked me over, then added, “but I got a name of someone who might know something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s going to cost you.”

“Name.”

“You aren’t even going to ask me what?” Strike all but sneered as he said the words. 

“I don’t give a shit, I’ll do it.”  I was being stupid, foolish, but I didn’t give a shit.  I wanted blood.  Yearned for it.

“You aren’t that stupid.  Come now.”

“What’s the cost?”

“A favor.”

A favor?”

“I call you, I ask for your help, no matter what it is, killing someone, taking the fall, you do it.”

I paused, he was right.  I needed to think about this rationally.

“No-“ Layla spoke up, but I wasn’t going to hear it.

“Nothing that will get me thrown in jail, but other than that, I accept.”

He smiled, “I thought you would put that little stipulation in.  See? You aren’t as stupid as you’re trying to be.  Wise up a little, Sean’s life isn’t worth yours.  You really want this woman to be left with nothing?”

Up until this point that was not what I thought.  What I felt.  Sean’s life was worth mine, no matter what they thought, no matter what they said.  Until I realized just how much that meant to Layla, who was standing next to me, keeping the tears trapped up in her eyes so that they wouldn’t spill out everywhere.

I sighed.

“Look, all I need is a lead.  I’ll do your favor.”

“Willem McCartney.  He was the one who supplied them directly.  Works in the loading bay, but he took some time off.  I hear he was fucking one of their sisters or something.  He might know where they’re hiding.”

“Got it.”

“But he isn’t going to be easy to persuade.  You’ll need me along to put pressure on him.”

“You.  You want to come?” I was a little shocked.  That was the last thing I expected from the son of the prominent mob boss.

“You agreed to do me a favor if I did one for you.  Gotta make sure it is a good deal.  I’m a crook, but I ain’t no cheat.” He grinned.  “Besides, been a while since I cracked some skulls, too much of this business shit, not enough muscle building.”

I turned and looked at Layla, who was none too pleased, but rather than saying anything she just gave me an icy stare.

“So, it’s decided? The two of you are going to go into this together? What about me?” Her nostrils flared.

“You need to stay safe.  This is doling out justice, Layla.  We have to do it.”

I had a feeling she wasn’t buying it.

But that was where we differed, and I wasn’t going to back down now.

I had to have blood.