Smolder: Trojans MC (58 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Falcon tore down the freeway. The road led away from the ocean and through the city towards the Screaming Eagles’ clubhouse. It was a Saturday night and the freeway was crowded with club kids and the rich and fabulous heading to their nighttime destination of choice. Every car he passed was filled with people wrapped up in their own worlds. None of them had any idea of the murder and chaos that rested just outside their city limits.

The people in these passing cars may have heard about the two successful busts against the Screaming Eagles, but it did not factor greatly into their lives. They may have caught a snippet on the news or seen a post online in passing, they may have noted it somewhere in the back of their minds, but then they promptly forgot it. They had no idea the huge power plays and well-planned machinations that occurred behind the scenes so they could enjoy the relative safety of a night out.

He had always wondered what life on the other side was like, what would it be like to have a normal nine-to-five job, to get up and put on a dress shirt and tie, to pack a lunch for work, to have health insurance. He never had any of those things ever in his life. His life had always been lived on the fringes and it always would be. But occasionally, at times like this, he couldn’t help but wonder what a normal life could be for him.

Falcon had everything on the line. His own life and the life of his daughter. If he messed up or if he was found out it would all be over. He had seen what the Screaming Eagles do to rats. He’d seen the damage first hand. The boss liked to make examples of people, to show what he was capable of. He was not a man of talk or empty bluster; he was a man of action who made good on his threats.

Even though he was nervous and his stomach was in one big knot, Falcon was still confident his boss hadn’t figured it out yet. He had a feeling that if Ernie knew, there would have been no text messages or phone calls. They would have found him and jumped him and drug him back to the clubhouse instead. He was being allowed to return on his own, that had to count for something.

He couldn’t let himself be nervous. He needed his hands to be steady and his voice to be strong. He had become adept at lying. For the longest time he believed the boss when he threatened that he could read men’s minds and knew when they were lying. He had never believed the mind reading part, but the part about knowing when someone was lying struck a chord in Falcon. He always believed the boss when he said liars had tells that gave them away. Maybe Falcon didn't have a tell, or maybe the boss had been bluffing the entire time. Either way, he had been lying to his boss for a week now and he still had no clue.

The realization gave him confidence. He had pulled it off this long, who’s to say he would ever get caught? He was good at this, better than his boss could have ever guessed. Hell, Falcon would have never thought he could get away with something like this, but here he was going from screwing a cop straight back to work, no breaks in between.

He pulled up to the Screaming Eagles’ clubhouse and parked his bike in a line with the rest. He looked around the parking lot half expecting someone to jump out of the woods and grab him. But the parking lot was empty and silent, only rows and rows of bikes gleaming in the moonlight. No one was waiting for him outside, that had to be a good sign. He didn’t want to look suspicious, so he didn't hesitate, hopping off his bike and swaggering to the front door.

How long could he keep this up, though? Eventually he would get caught in a lie. Eventually his luck would run out or fate would intervene and he would pass some random person on the road who would tell someone else and person by person it would get back to the club that Falcon had not been where he said he had been. So he needed to keep his lies simple and as close to the truth as possible.

He swung open the door to the clubhouse and was met with a half-full house. The normal assortment of groupies and old ladies were gathered in their corner, passing cigarettes to each other and using an old beer can as an ashtray. There were a couple of guys at the pool table and a few more sitting at the bar drinks in hand. It was quiet and subdued in the clubhouse. Men had been arrested, they had lost a lot of money, and no one was in the mood to party.

The boss's door was closed. Normally Big Chris was the gatekeeper to Ernie. He used to stand at the door and permit those the boss wanted to see through the door. But Big Chris was in jail now on some pretty hefty charges. Falcon wondered if the boss had set Big Chris and Billy up with a lawyer, or if they had been left to fend for themselves.

He hadn’t been jumped when he walked in the door and Falcon took that for a good sign. He walked past the groupies with a nod. In leaner times he might have gone over to see if there was anyone knew. But he had Grace now, and there was no groupie or old lady who could compete with her. He waved to the guys at the pool table and headed to the bar.

“Hey, Rick,” Falcon said, leaning against the chipped and stained bar. “Is the boss around? I got a call he wanted to see me.”

Rick gave Falcon a look over the tap as he poured an unasked for beer. Rick was an older man, one of the oldest in the club. He had lost a leg in an old battle against a rival gang and now he stayed at the clubhouse pouring drinks and offering advice. He had long, lanky grey hair and a nasty scar that stretched the length of his right cheek.  “He’s been behind that locked door all night,” Rick said sliding a beer to Falcon.

“Doing what?” Falcon asked picking up the cold beer and taking a grateful sip.

“Trying to get blood from a stone. He’s swearing up and down that business is going to keep going and keep making money like the raids didn’t even happen. But he lost a lot of men and a lot of merchandise in those raids. He’s trying to make the math work back there, but from the sounds I hear, it ain’t going to well.”

Falcon nodded and said, “Well, that’s why he’s the boss, right? It’s his job to figure out how to make this whole thing work.”

“Where you been, Falcon?” Rick asked after a moment of heavy silence. “Everyone was looking for you; they want whatever luck you’ve got that’s seen you escape two police raids.”

“Good thing I left, then,” Falcon said taking a heavy sip of his beer and trying to not read too much into Rick’s words. “I need all that luck; I don’t want to have to share it.”

“Fair enough,” Rick said with a nod of his head, “but that still don’t answer where you were today. There was a raid on the house, that’s an all hands on deck situation and you just disappeared. People were looking for you.”

Falcon leaned over the counter and spoke quietly as if telling a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I met this woman-”

“Ahhh, I see,” Rick said with a knowing nod.

“She wanted a ride on the bike and a ride of a different sort, if you get my meaning,” Falcon finished with a relaxed shrug.

“Who is she?” Rick asked.

“No one you know. Just another lonely housewife. I met her on the beach when I took Sophie the other day. She’s a good lay, though, I’ll give her that.” Falcon spun his lies carefully. He needed them to be as close to the truth as possible in case someone tried to call him out on it. He was reluctant to mention a woman; he didn’t want the members of the Screaming Eagles to know about Grace. But the problem was, Grace made Falcon happy, very happy and it was hard to pretend to be upset and angry at his gang’s losses when he was still so enraptured with Grace.

He wanted to be able to think about her without being worried about being caught off guard if someone interrupted his thoughts. It was good for the men to know that Falcon had a new woman. It would ease over any issues in his lies or any reactions he had that were out of the ordinary. Every man in the Screaming Eagles had lost his mind over a woman at least once before; now it was Falcon’s turn.

“Well, I’m glad someone’s having a good time. It’s been nothing but doom and gloom since the raids.”

“You’re not that worried?” Falcon asked.

“The cops raid, it’s what they do. But the Screaming Eagles will come through the other side, we always do,” Rick said with a shrug.

Not this time, Falcon thought as he drained his beer.

“Falcon!” A stern voice called over the clubhouse. It was Ernie, he was sticking his head out of his office and looked furious. “My office now!” He disappeared back into his office leaving the door open.

Falcon took a deep breath and gave Rick one last look before turning and walking to the boss’ office. He ordered himself to remain calm and to act normal. Think about Sophie, he reminded himself, do this for her, be good, for her.

He reached the open door that led to Ernie’s tiny office.

“Close the door behind you, Falcon,” Ernie said and, closing his eyes for a brief prayer, Falcon closed the door and was alone with his boss.

Chapter Nineteen

Falcon had to stop himself from coughing when he closed the door. The tiny office was filled with cigarette smoke that hung so thick in the air he could barely see through it. But slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark room and he could see his boss on the other side of his giant desk. There was a cellphone, a closed laptop, and a closed notebook in front of him. He was slouched back in his chair and looked about ten years older than the last time Falcon had seen him. His eyes were bloodshot and lined, his shirt wrinkled with a large coffee stain on the left side.

“I’m sorry I missed your calls, boss. My phone was on silent...”

Falcon waited for Ernie to say something, but the other man remained in his seat, his eyes were glazed over as he stared over the expanse of his desk. Finally, with a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair and sat up in his chair.

“Have a seat,” the boss said and Falcon sat down in one of the wooden hard backed chairs in the office. The boss sighed again and reached down and opened a bottom drawer and took his time rummaging through it.

Falcon tensed, was this is it? Was his boss looking for a gun or some evidence he had discovered. Falcon tried to stay calm, resisting the urge to grip the armrests of his chair, forcing himself to remain outwardly calm.

When Ernie appeared again he had a bottle of whiskey and two high ball glasses in his hands and he poured a large glass for himself and then one for Falcon. Once the drinks were poured he pushed Falcon’s across the desk and it spilled over the edge, leaving little drops of whiskey on its path to the other side. Falcon grabbed the drink before it fell and held it in his hands while Ernie drank his one big swallow.

“Where you been, Falcon?” Ernie asked. He sounded exhausted and he glanced at him for only a second before pouring himself another glass.

“I needed to blow off some steam, so I went for a ride and met up with this girl,” Falcon said taking a sip of the very expensive whiskey the boss kept hidden in his office for himself. It went down smooth and left a smoky aftertaste. Falcon didn’t think he had ever had a whiskey this expensive. The boss might have been busy, but he lived a good life.

“Good,” the boss said with a slow nod. “You’re a young guy, you should be out there sowing your wild oats and enjoying life. Me, I’ve been stuck in this office all day, trying to keep my head above water.”

Falcon nodded but said nothing else. He had to hide a smile, glad Ernie’s day had been ruined. It was the least Falcon could do. In fact, Falcon was planning on ruining as many of the boss’ days as he could.

“I’ve managed to secure another warehouse,” Ernie said. He sat up a little straighter and focused his eyes on Falcon. “It’s over near Echo Park. It’s a bad part of town, so hopefully we won’t get too much flack from the cops. I’ve managed to move most of our remaining merchandise there. It’s secure at the moment, but we don’t have the time to sit on the goods. The club needs an influx of cash, now, and the best way to do it is to move what we have as fast as possible. I’ve set up a buyer overseas, but we need to get the MDMA from the warehouse to the docks and then it’s out of our hands.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Falcon said with nod as he took another sip of the fine whiskey.

“I have the goods. What I lack is men,” Ernie continued. “Jobs like this need a man on the ground. Someone to coordinate the men, plan the route, talk to the workers at the docks, and handle all the little things that come up in big jobs. Normally that would be Billy or Big Chris, but sadly they’re still in police custody.”

“Any word on getting them out or getting them an attorney?” Falcon asked.

Ernie waved his hand in the air in an off-hand manner accidentally clearing the smoke that had been lingering in his face. “The city will give them a lawyer; we don’t need to waste our money on that.”

Falcon relaxed his grip in the high ball glass in his hand. He had been so angry he almost crushed it. He remained outwardly calm while cursing Ernie on the inside. How could he say things like that? How could he claim that buying a lawyer for two of his top members was a waste of money? It disgusted Falcon that he worked for this man for so long, this man who didn’t care about anyone but himself.

“You’ve been a good, loyal soldier for many years, Falcon. But you’ve always just been a soldier. I never had any grand dreams for you. But you’ve impressed me these last few days. Big Chris called me yesterday, told me how you tried to get him and Billy out of there. I appreciate that. But more importantly, I appreciate that you haven't been captured yet. Two raids by the police and in both instances you managed to escape. I’m impressed and now I’m ready to reward you.”

“Is there a room filled with redheads waiting for me somewhere?” Falcon asked finishing his drink. His voice sounded lazy and almost a little bored, as if talking to the leader of the Screaming Eagles was an inconvenience for him.

“Not yet,” Ernie answered. “But I want you to handle this job for me. Get the drugs from the warehouse to the docks and there will be something in it for you: a promotion. If you do this well, you’ll move up the chain, Falcon. You’ll be a leader in the Screaming Eagles and leadership, while hard work, does come with perks. Redheads could be one of the perks, if that’s what you want.”

Falcon’s heart stopped. Ernie didn’t suspect anything. In fact, he wanted to promote Falcon. He was putting him in charge of a major operation. Falcon couldn’t help but shake his head, years of hard work and sacrifice for the Screaming Eagles had earned him nothing more than a job as a foot soldier. But now that he had stopped trying, now that he was skipping out to hookup with women, now the gang wanted to promote him. It just confirmed what he recently discovered: the Screaming Eagles were a joke. They looked past hard-working members and promoted only those with the right biker attitude.

He didn’t care about impressing the Screaming Eagles; what he cared about now was impressing Grace. He was going to dump a huge bust right into her lap. He was going to give her a truck full of MDMA and the info on the buyer. Maybe then it would be enough to really take down the Screaming Eagles. Maybe it would be enough for them to storm the clubhouse and grab Ernie, the real mastermind, the one person who most belonged in jail.

It might be enough to end it all. No more double life, no more lying. He could get out of the gang and get his record wiped clean. Dealing with spoiled rich kids in line for the club where Kelly worked wasn’t his dream job, but it was better than this. He could work as a bouncer and make good money and have his days free to be with Sophie. There was a chance that if Falcon played his cards right, he could get out of this with everything he wanted.

“You start tomorrow,” the boss said. “I’ve been giving out your number, so get ready for a lot of phone calls.”

Sensing the conversation was over, Falcon stood and placed his empty glass on the desk.

“Oh, the fights are tomorrow, aren’t they?” Ernie said, scratching the back of his head. “You might want to bow out of those. I need you working, not recovering from a beating.”

“All due respect boss, but I never miss a fight. I’ve also never needed to take the next day off. Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you just get some sleep?”

Ernie gave a grunt and gave a nod at Falcon and it looked like he was about to pass out in right there in his chair. It was amazing how quickly Ernie had turned from a God-like figure to just another man doing a job. Falcon had no reverence left for Ernie, just disgust and annoyance and a desire to put the other man behind bars.

“All clear, but I got some more news for you,” Falcon sent the text to Grace the second he was out of the boss’ office. It was eleven thirty; he still had thirty minutes.

“Good. Will be in touch,” Grace responded almost immediately.

Falcon breathed a sigh of relief. He had managed to stay alive for another day. He was still in the game. The knot in his stomach was gone and his only regret was that Grace couldn’t be there to celebrate with him.