Page 54 of Wicked Shadows
“I’ve been reading up on their initiation process. It’s fairly grueling but nothing I haven’t been through before.”
“Don’t expect it’ll be anything you’ve read about. They pride themselves on new and improved torture tactics. They have been known to order probies to kill someone for them, too.”
Jack and Shadow discussed how he’d get in touch with Nick once he was ready to ride with the club. The only part of the agreement Shadow was leery over was waiting two to three weeks to allow changes to his features to occur naturally. His normally kempt hair needed to be longer and shaggy. His beard must be full and scraggly. Tattoos would be strategically placed to show his prison allegiance and felon status.
His motorcycle and leathers would be waiting for him at his run-down, sparsely furnished apartment, complete with dust and road grime to portray his recent ride across the country after his prison release. His photographic memory and training taught him how to blend in with any type of element and gave him a decided advantage, but earning the trust of a group of very suspicious criminals wouldn’t be easy. He used the rest of the flight to pore over every detail of their known hangouts.
By the time he landed at a private airstrip in LA County, he’d moved past concerned and straight to murderous rage. Jack waited outside the fence in a beat-up truck. He looked the part of a retired lifetime club member in case he was ever spotted near Nick Tucker. In Shadow’s case, Jack would lend credence to his cover story if anyone saw them pull up to the apartment together.
“Good flight?” Jack asked when Shadow had settled in the passenger seat.
“As good as can be under the circumstances. Have you talked to Nick directly?”
Jack chuckled. “Not since we last talked a couple of hours ago. We go weeks without speaking. But I got a message to him, and he’ll meet us tonight at your place. Your cover story will be enough to explain how the three of us know each other if anyone questions it. Or, I should say,whensomeone questions it. Bonebreaker will suspect you immediately. He spent twelve years in prison because of a snitch who turned out to be an undercover agent. He suspected Nick, too, so don’t take it personally.”
“As long as he doesn’t take it personally when I serve his cock and balls to him chilled before I finish killing him.”
Jack arched one brow as he looked over his shoulder at Shadow. “Angry much?”
“Jack, I’m more than angry after reading that file. What they’re most likely doing with Elle makes my blood boil. I’m already a deadly man, but I could wipe out every single one of them and not lose a wink of sleep at night.”
“Your director at the CIA warned me about turning you loose on this club.”
“Yeah? What was his warning?”
“He said I may not have anyone left to arrest if they pissed you off. Apparently, you have a reputation in the company for taking care of business, no matter how messy the situation may be.”
“You’ve been warned correctly. Think of all the money we’ll save the taxpayers in the long run.” His tone held no mirth or indication Jack shouldn’t take his words at full face value.
“Just remember there’s always more to the story. Someone else behind the scenes, calling the plays, directing the activities, reading the field. We need to take that person down, too. So we need them alive to flush out who’s financing the big ventures.”
“The money isn’t coming from their drug operations? I read they’re in league with the Mexican cartels and pulling in major dollars from street-level dealers all the way up the chain to the manufacturers.”
“They are, no doubt. But their new business is much more expensive—at least, initially. The number of people we think they’re paying off leads to a staggering amount of money. We’ll get into that more with Nick when he drops by later.”
Jack pulled alongside the curb in front of an old, dilapidated building that probably should’ve been condemned decades before. The sparsely remaining paint was peeling, the overhangs were rotten, and the gutters had long ago fallen away.
“Charming place. You didn’t have anything a little less pretentious? I’m not sure I can afford a room here,” Shadow deadpanned.
“Sorry. Everywhere else was full,” Jack retorted. “Come on in, and I’ll show you around.”
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. With his arm extended, he smiled at Shadow. “Here’s your apartment. Try not to get lost.”
Shadow stepped through the doorway and did a full 360-degree turn. “The janitor’s closet at my old high school was bigger than this apartment. It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”
The only privacy in the small room was behind the bathroom door that would undoubtedly fall off the hinges at any time. It was barely hanging on as it was, but the slightest breeze or softest tremor would surely separate it from the hinges completely.
“No chance of getting lost in here. Bright side,” Jack laughed and closed the door. “We’ve already stocked your fridge and cupboard. Here are your keys—one to the door, one to the garage, and one to the bike. That’s the best thing about this place. The small garage next door is yours too. Your bike is parked over there.”
“Let’s go check out the garage, then.” Shadow left the apartment with a quickness in his step that made Jack chuckle under his breath when he fell into step behind him. Shadow rounded the corner of the building and stopped in his tracks. “I’m sleeping in the garage, Jack.”
The garage was formerly a service station, abandoned at least a decade before. The gas pump had been removed, weeds grew in the huge cracks in the concrete, and some of the upper windows had been busted out. The single roll-up door was all metal, shielding the inside from prying eyes.
Shadow unlocked the door to the small office area and turned to Jack. “It smells better in here than over there. Does this bathroom work?”
“Yeah. We actually just had it redone last year. You could open this place up and take in small jobs. Get your name and face known in the area to help draw them in to you.”
“Good idea. I think I may just do that, with a back-office business of my own to make extra money. Make myself indispensable to the club before they even know what hit them.”
